Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The library was Tommy’s safe haven—the one place that he didn’t have to be someone else. Although libraries were meant to be quiet places—and Tommy did stay quiet while he was there—he felt so different, so much freer in this one. Nonetheless, he was certain that there was no difference between L’Manburg Community Library and the school’s library or any other library he’d ever been to.

He’d only recently begun to come, having found out about the place through a flyer that was posted on the wall of the boys’ locker room, where Tommy commonly ate his lunch. His one thought after reading the poster was why?

This is a high school boys’ locker room, no place for a library poster. Numero Uno, I don’t know any boys who actually read and aren’t mentally ill. And that is the only Numero. What’s two in Spanish again?

Actually, he thought a bit more (as seen above), but he didn’t really count that as a separate thought as all of that was thought in less than a second. He then proceeded to tear down the poster, stuff it into his backpack, and throw the rest of his meager lunch away. He wasn’t hungry any longer, and he knew that if he kept the food on him, it would only get taken away by an older boy anyway.

He would use the flyer to draw on once he got home. It was a large piece of paper, but it wasn’t laminated or anything so drawing on the back would be easy.

Then he remembered his math homework. He needed paper to do that because he had to work out the problems on paper even though they could use a calculator for the class (‘No, Tommy, you cannot use your phone’s calculator.’ DARN MS. CANON!). Mother wouldn’t buy him one and when he was in class he used the provided calculators, but he hadn’t had time to finish the paper in class that day. He had sighed; no drawing on that flyer.

Tommy hadn’t started going to the library that day, or even that week—no, it was the Monday of the week after—but he’d thought about it. He’d thought about it while doing that very math paper that he would’ve been able to do in his head, but Mother advised him not to, which, fair enough, he could’ve made a mistake that wouldn't have been made if he did it on paper.

He did the paper using the back of the flyer.

And now, he was sitting at a secluded table in a secluded corner of the L’Manburg Community Library- exactly where he didn’t want to be. Wait, no- that was wrong. He wanted to be in the library; what he didn’t want was to be alone, and he was. Yet, that was his fault. It was his fault no one had tried approaching him because of the aura that he exuded. It was his fault that he didn’t try hard enough to make friends. It was his fault he acted the way he did. That’s what Mother told him, at least. She was right, it was his fault because who else could make him act the way he did? He controlled himself and no one else did, so it was his fault.

Tommy tended to ignore the fact that he was alone when he didn’t want to be because it didn’t matter in the end. All he was worried about was how much his History teacher must hate him for including Hamilton references in almost everything.

He said that he was worried, but he wasn’t. No, he put those in on purpose because it was funny to see Ms. Whateverhernamewas look so angrily at his paper as she handed him back a perfect grade. He would always smile politely and thank her, as he was taught, and she would just look even more annoyed. Tommy wonders what her teenage angst looked like.

Speaking of Hamilton, it was by far the best musical Tommy had ever seen (although technically, the only one he’d ever seen, and the way he watched it was far from legal). Its music popped off and was currently what he was listening to, through his four-year-old headphones, of course.

A few other library patrons wandered around, never coming very close to Tommy’s table, and once he finished his crappy History assignment with a few Hamilton references and doodles, he was ready for his daily dose of people-watching. The people in the library were never very interesting, most often they were old hags who probably didn’t know what the internet was. Sometimes there’d be another student or an unemployed adult hanging around—he was certain those adults were trying to kidnap him—but there were few other people in the library. It made it a nice place to hang around for some peace and quiet.

Although now would be the time that his house was quiet, it just didn’t feel right being there, so he hung out here instead.

By far, the most interesting people at the library were the ones who worked there. From what Tommy had gathered, there were two or three full-time workers and about four or five part-time workers. He typically saw the part-time workers more often, oddly.

The first one, the one he saw most often, was a brunette with curly hair and bangs pushed to the side. A beanie covered his hair most of the time. He seemed to linger around Tommy’s table as he stocked books nearby, but Tommy didn’t worry much. The guy was an absolute twig. Tommy could take him, easy. No, the twig was not taller than him and he would not let anyone tell him so- he was the biggest man ever, Big Man Tommy Innit, wife haver, woman lover, that was what everyone called him. The guy seemed to talk quite a bit, as Tommy had seen him chat with absolute randos that he had never seen in his life while checking out their books at the counter.

The second worker, much more elusive, was not as out-going as the other. Tommy had seen them shelving books mostly, never doing counterwork much. And in all honesty, the person probably scared off customers. They had long, hip-length, pink hair that was always kept down along with a tattoo winding down his arm—he’d never gotten close enough to tell what the tattoo was of, but he was certain it was something badass. They had several piercings on their ears, but none were distasteful, just adding to their fear factor. Tommy would admit, this person was by far the scariest person he’d ever seen, and that was saying something (he’d run into lots and lots of bad eggs).

The third one was the youngest, but Tommy only knew that because he had seen him at school before. His name might have been Ranboob but Tommy wasn’t too sure. Ranboob was the tallest in their class, an absolute weird-looking string bean. He had white and black split hair that reminded Tommy of dalmatians (Cruella! There’s one there!) and dual-color eyes, one red and the other green. He commonly saw the guy in a suit for some reason and he seemed to have some weird skin disease. That was when Tommy decided he would never interact with the guy; Mother would not be pleased with him if he contracted a skin disease, and would probably lock him in his room to keep herself from getting contaminated. It was all understandable.

He didn’t see much of the full-time workers, but he knew they were there too. From what he’d gathered there was a man with shoulder-ish length blond hair and a girl whose hair color seemed to change pretty frequently. The girl seemed to be pretty nice, talking to patrons and any students who needed help with homework or a child looking to find the perfect book for themselves. The man seemed to work mostly behind the scenes or behind the counter, so Tommy wasn’t too worried about ever running into him.

Tommy had been frequenting the library most days after school since the beginning of March. Yet, he’d never once tried reading or checking out a book. The library was simply a place to finish his homework, people-watch, and get out of the house for a bit.

He decided that today would be different; the people had been boring and the music just wasn’t vibing with him. It was time to find a book to read.

He didn’t know where to start, barely remembering the last book he read, and that was one he had to write a thesis, several summaries, and a report on—it was a book for class and definitely not a good one.

Getting a book at the library would be a large change for him, but he’d dealt with that before. It had to go reasonably well with how much experience he had with change.

Change had always been difficult for him. Like, his eating habits and schedule. The days he didn’t get to eat dinner made him feel wrong and he felt worse if he did eat dinner. Oftentimes, he snacked throughout the day on whatever wrapped, dry food he found in Tesco's back alley near the school. It worked and he didn’t understand why a massive chain company would throw away pure profit.

Tommy had, in fact, sold some of the better-looking food to unsuspecting children he saw on the sidewalk. And those pitiful, no-good, money-less children he occasionally saw? Well, those ones got basically nothing for free, just whatever he had left after going around for a bit—y’know, a box of unopened granola bars (the kind he didn’t like, of course), maybe some biscuits if he wasn’t feeling up to eating something sweet... never much, of course.

Right! Getting a book.

Cautiously, he paused the music and slipped his precious headphones off his head, and after glancing around the area and spotting no one, he stood. The last time he read a book he genuinely enjoyed had probably been about three years ago—when he was actually into reading—and he remembered the book—it was The Twits by some random British author that was pog—but he didn’t know if he’d still enjoy the genre. Not knowing how the library was organized was another issue heaped on top of the rest. The pile just kept on growing—just like him, he grew lots and was massive!

He decided to just look at the books on the shelf closest to him. This was a terrible idea.

They were nasty, gross, utterly unbelievable, terrible, cooty-filled romance novels. Like… who even read those besides desperate, horny, middle-aged men who worked an office job and couldn’t get women like Tommy could!?

Then, something absolutely, positively dreadful happened…

That one brunette saw him—which in itself would have been fine, but he went one step further—and then went up to him.

And he didn’t flinch (nope, because he is a big man- the massivest) but he winced hard . This was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him, even more, embarrassing than that one time when he went downstairs while his mom and her work were over. Because what self-respecting, Tommy-like person got caught browsing through romance novels in the library!? Tommy, apparently.

“‘Afternoon,” the brunette greeted cheerfully. “I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves properly. I’m Wilbur Soot! You?”

“I’m- uh… Tommy Innit…” he began, not sure what else to say.

Wilbur glanced at the shelf next to them. “I’m assumin’ you don’t want to read crappy romance novels—but if you do—” Wilbur backtracked “—I won’t judge, I had that phase too. But would you like some help finding something you’d actually like to read?”

“Yes.” Tommy let out a relieved sigh; this was not as awkward of an encounter as he had expected, seeing as he had only ever said hello or goodbye to this guy.

He smiled politely at Tommy, standing and holding out his hand for the blond to take. He didn’t take it, instead standing up on his own with his gaze cast to the ground. Wilbur didn’t seem offended, simply leading him to the other side of the library and up a flight of stairs Tommy hadn’t seen before. He didn’t even realize that you could get up to the second floor of the library—you could see it from the ground floor—and was planning on climbing his way up to check it out up there. Turns out, he didn’t need to (he would totally do it still).

“So…” Wilbur wondered. “Is there a certain genre or author you’d like to look for?”

“Uhh… I didn’t really think too much about it…” Tommy admitted, somewhat surprisingly. He chastised himself—he should’ve just said Roald Dahl or something. It would make him seem more prepared… or something.

“Alright! Here, I’ll just get you something I liked reading around your age—how young are you?”

“20, because I am a big man.”

Wilbur looked at him with disdain. “Mhm… big man isn’t an age. What’s your real age?”

This man was not fooling around, not believing Tommy, not giving in to his planned lies- UGH! It was so annoying (and surprisingly refreshing).

“Almost 17.”

“So you’re 16?”

“Now, I never said-”

“You’re 16.”

Tommy resigned himself to stay quiet if only to not get on this guy’s bad side… Wilbur seemed to at least know the pink-haired person. He could sic them on him.

“Alright! Let’s get started.” Wilbur clapped, moving over to an aisle.

He quickly glanced up at the ‘100% Made Out Of Recyclable Material!’ sign hanging above the aisle entry. Mystery. Huh. Suspense and stuff. Yep, ok, that’s alright. Tommy shrugged to himself internally.

Oh, and he was falling! He had tripped over Wilbur’s shoe having not seen that he had stopped walking and had squatted down next to a bookshelf. Oh, and he was still falling! WOW! Wait- CRAP.

Tommy screeched, forgetting that he was in a library and someone would definitely be concerned. He prided himself on being a big man and his shout was manly… but it simply wasn’t up to his usual big manliness levels. It simply could not compete.

He hit the ground hard. Instantly, a migraine formed and he groaned. He could tell that Wilbur was trying to speak to him, but he couldn’t really hear him. In Wilbur's—worried(?) angry(?)—rambling, he mentioned a hospital, which immediately set Tommy into recovery. Albeit- with a terrible migraine.

“NO! No… I’m fine, fine… Sorry about that.” Tommy exclaimed, quieting down after the first word, realizing that his loudness was probably annoying Wilbur more when he already had to deal with Tommy. Why wouldn’t he just leave? “Just a headache… Yeah, I’m fine.” He was trying to convince himself. “Now, what book were you trying to show me?”

Wilbur looked at him with an odd look, before, seemingly, caving (he hadn’t done that the first time). Tommy pressed his hand to his head as inconspicuously as he could, but he knew that the guy would see it.

“Woo…” Wilbur breathed. “You scared me, gremlin—” Tommy squawked in manly indignation. “— Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie. It’s a classic so it’s an easy one to start with. Agatha Christie in general has several good mystery novels. If you want to read more, you can come find me or you can come here! This is where the mystery books are and a lot of her books are mysteries or thrillers.

“Now, most of the library is organized alphabetically, but this special section up here is organized by genre for those who don’t know what author they’d like to read or those who don’t know exactly what book they want to read. If they know the genre they like, they can find it up here!”

Tommy nodded, thinking that the idea made sense. Wilbur set the book in his hands, and he ran his hands over the spine. It was worn, obviously a book that several had read, but it felt cared for in a way that a lot of the school library’s books weren’t. It was nice to see something that was completely open to the public in such good condition.

“Thanks…” Tommy murmured, staring at the book.

“No problem! You can give it back to me when you’re done.”

And they headed back to the main level. Wilbur left, returning to the counter, and Tommy went back to his table.

A brave child had ventured nearby, not seeing Tommy, but as soon as he was in sight, the child ran off. Tommy grinned to himself; it was funny to scare small children who would never live to be as great as him.

He took his seat once more and pulled his headphones on. Tommy turned his music back on and opened up the book.

Today seemed a bit better for some reason. Huh. It must have been because he actually finished his lunch today. Yes, he was certain it was that.

Chapter Text

There had been some kid at the library lately. Not ever doing much and always arriving right before Ranboo came into work, which meant they came in just after getting off school. They’d always left close to 6 PM, so they were there for about three hours typically.

Wilbur questions why they spend so much of the day at his family’s old library when they could be hanging out with friends. It was what he would’ve rather been doing at that kid’s—presumed—age.

The kid didn’t do much. They just sat at the table farthest away from basically everything, and if anyone came near them, the people would usually back off within a few minutes. They always had on some ratty-looking headphones that looked to be twelve years old at least. Wilbur could occasionally hear the person humming quietly to whatever he was listening to and he generally looked pretty peaceful except for the minuscule but almost constant hint of... frustration? or anger? Wilbur wasn’t sure what exact emotion it was.

They usually wore a pair of jeans with a super oversized jacket that looked about two sizes too big for the scrawny kid (though Wilbur had to admit he was decently tall), and that was all Wilbur could see besides the falling-apart tennis shoes that seemed to be barely holding on.

After about a week of seeing the kid come in regularly, Techno had asked Ranboo if he knew them. 

Apparently, he was named Tommy Innit and was a very obnoxious boy who often got sent out of class. Yet, Ranboo had also said that he was rather reclusive, not having any friends, and he hadn’t even seen the boy in the cafeteria before. It wasn’t any of their business, but it did seem a bit strange for a teenage boy to act like that.

Maybe he was just shy like Ranboo. Maybe he just got into fights and got sent out for that like Techno did when he was younger. Maybe he was bothering other students with noise like both he and Techno had got sent out when they were his age. Maybe he couldn’t stay focused like Ranboo and Techno.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t anyone but Tommy’s business so Wilbur wouldn’t make it his (at least that’s what he told himself).

It took another amount of time until Wilbur actually approached Tommy. He’d only said hello and goodbye to the kid—the usual—but finally, he had one interaction with him.

Tommy was looking at the books in what Ranboo classified as, “The Scary Adult Fiction Bookshelf That Shall Never Be Touched” or “TSAFBTSNBT” or “SAFBNT” for short. It was truly a wreck there, but Phil made sure the section was never removed while he wasn’t looking. Something about wide selection or something. (Wilbur could only hope that the reason he didn’t want it gone was actually because he read and enjoyed reading those things). Whatever the reason behind keeping the shelf was, Wilbur still wanted the thing gone.

(It wasn’t even that hard to get rid of! They’d already scribbled out J.K. Rowling's name on all of their Harry Potter books they carried and replaced each name with Daniel Radcliffe, so it wasn’t like they hadn’t already done something that deterred other people.)

He didn’t know what the blond was thinking when he walked over to the SAFBNT, but he knew that Tommy probably had no idea what to expect. Wilbur would have to be the one to save him.

And save him he did! Because Wilbur Soot is the savior of all.

It wasn’t his problem, so he shouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t his problem, so he shouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t his problem, so he shouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t his problem, so he shouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t his problem, so he shouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t his problem, so he shouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t his problem, so he shouldn’t worry about it.

Tommy was surprisingly tall for how scrawny he was, Wilbur realized once the blond stood up. He also looked incredibly nervous, no matter how much he tried to exude intimidation with his puffed-out chest. Like a peacock.

Coming closer to him also made Wilbur realize that not only was his hoodie massive, but it was also incredibly thin and worn. It had to have been someone else’s before it was Tommy’s. He also saw the faint bags underneath his eyes and some faint scars. None of it concerned Wilbur (he told himself)—Tommy’s a teenage boy and probably stays up until at least midnight. It wouldn’t surprise him if Tommy had gotten into fights before, with how he looks at people it’d be surprising if he didn't.

Wilbur gave Tommy a way out of his current predicament. It was obvious that at first he was tense and nervous, but after a few minutes the kid relaxed. When Tommy admitted that he hadn’t known what he wanted to read, Wilbur had taken it upon himself to find some books that he himself enjoyed.

The poor kid had then proceeded to trip and fall down, letting out a gut-wrenching scream, but he recovered fairly quickly. If only after Wilbur mentioned bringing him to the hospital. Tommy claimed to only have a headache after standing up, and he seemed fine otherwise, so Wilbur moved on and gave him Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie. A classic and a mystery novel. All in all, it was a great book.

Then Tommy returned to his table, and Wilbur went back to work and everything was as normal as it was before their interaction—which, to be fair, wasn’t very normal. Wilbur was questioned by Niki and his brother about what the two had been doing, and he answered honestly, having no reason to lie.

About an hour later, Tommy went home, or wherever he went after coming to the library (hopefully it was home), leaving the book in his spot. Wilbur made sure to pick the book up while he cleaned after closing time. He did not put it back in its spot. No, he spotted the smallest slip of paper barely poking out at the top of the book and smiled softly. He set it underneath the front desk in one of the block cubbies. He’d set it out for Tommy a few minutes before his usual arrival time.

Not that he cared about the kid in particular. Wilbur was simply being a good worker who wanted recognition for his good customer service on Yelp.

Chapter Text

Mother hadn’t given Tommy lunch money for the past few days, not that he really minded! Having lunch money meant having it taken or the lunch he bought with it stolen. He also couldn’t be trusted with money, so it made sense that Mother wouldn’t give him any after that last… incident.

Look, he hadn’t meant to get lost on the way home from the library, and he hadn’t meant to stay fifteen minutes late either! Mother, apparently, did not believe him. All he was doing for that extra fifteen minutes was finishing the last chapter of Murder on the Orient Express ; he couldn’t just wait until the next day!

And it was darker than he had expected on the way home, and he wasn’t watching the street signs, so he got lost. It wasn’t entirely his fault! But, he had to agree with Mother; he was not responsible enough to keep track of money if he couldn’t even make it home by himself.

Tommy was a bit grumpy without his usual lunch (small as it was), and sure, the people who liked to take his lunch money were pretty upset and took it out on Tommy, but that was fine. What was not fine was having his headphones break because of them.

He was certain they hadn’t meant to ground his headphones into the concrete just outside the school after every other student had left. That would be mean, and Tommy often willingly gave them his lunch money so they had no reason to be mean to him. They should be grateful to him!

Honestly, he hadn’t meant to get as angry as he did, but…  

The two kids left him lying out on the concrete, one with a bloody nose and the other with a certainly bruised shoulder. He left with scratches up and down his arms—that was normal, so he wasn’t worried—and a finger that had been bent too far back too far, but all of that was fixable. He wasn’t broken!

And, truly, his finger didn’t really hurt that much. Sure, touching it, picking things up, and moving it even the tiniest bit brought quite a deal of pain, but it could’ve been worse. The worst thing that happened didn’t even happen to him. His poor headphones were injured the most, and he unwillingly stuffed them into his backpack. Their gorgeousness had forever been tainted, but he was certain that he could bring them in to Sam and they could be fixed, one way or another. Sam could fix anything.

Going to the library was different without his music. There was nothing to block out the shuffling of feet along the surely dirty, ugly carpet and nothing to cover up the faint laughter of children who hadn’t read the library rules thoroughly enough. He was fine though. Fine. Nothing could break Tommy Innit! Master of men, Getter of women.

His incapability to do his newest sheet of History homework was beginning to make him think that it might be necessary to go home early. Typically, it could be done within half an hour, but it felt impossible to simply get one halfway-decent sentence down with all the noise surrounding him. He’d tried everything! Even not doing the homework and instead trying to read—which he could usually do while Mother had guests over, at least, that was what he remembered from when he was younger—did nothing and so he stayed unproductive.

Tommy groaned, slumping even farther onto the table. HE DIDN’T WANT TO BE USELESS! He’d been told it too many times and it was starting to get on his nerves! He’d tried his hardest not to be useless, but the odds just seemed to be against him.

Realizing that his uselessness would only further be proven if he continued to lay on the table, Tommy lifted himself up and turned to where his backpack was hanging on the back of the chair.

He glanced up, swearing to himself that he saw someone way too close. They were supposed to not come near him! Who was this brave fellow who decided that they were pog enough to approach Tommy Innit? He just had to meet the fool.

Apparently, it was that Wimblur guy, or whatever his name was—the one who forced him to read Murder on the Orient Express —and he was ten times closer than expected. This definitely did not make Tommy jump. (Okay, maybe a little.)

“Ayup, Tommy,” Wimblur—y’know, maybe it was Wilbur—greeted. “Oh? Sorry, did I spook you?” He sheepishly rubbed his head.

“No!” Tommy exclaimed. “I mean- no… you didn’t. Don’t worry about it. What’d you want, you ass?”

“What did I do to you!?”

“Ah, ah, ah. Gotta be quiet in the library.”

“I’m the owner’s son—it’s fine!”

“Oh, you are?”

“Mhm. I work here part-time with my twin brother, Technoblade.”

“Oh.” Tommy hadn’t seen anyone working at the library that looked even slightly similar to Wilbur. His brother (Technoblade is such a weird name, innit?) must work behind the scenes or something. He began speaking again after pulling himself from his thoughts. “You came over here for a reason, what’s the reason?”

Wilbur looks almost surprised at Tommy, but he responds quickly, “What if I just wanted to spend time with my favorite patron?”

“I’m no patron, Wilbur. I don’t pay for a library card or check out any books.”

The brunette blinked, laughing quietly. Tommy really didn’t understand this guy. “Right…” Silence. Awkward silence. He began to fidget with the strap of his backpack. Was Wilbur going to leave? “Well!” Wilbur clapped, startling Tommy. “I’m just used to seeing you listening to somethin’ while you’re here, and you’re not today. Is there a reason?”

How the hell did Wilbur even notice that? Cock and balls! This guy was weird.

“No. No- no reason, now if you’ll excuse me I’ll be takin’ my leave-”

“Y’know, Tommy, I’ve got an old Walkman in the back. When Techno and I were younger we would put newer music on it to listen to. If you’d like, I could go get it. I’m sure there’s some kind of music you’d like on one of the cassette tapes. I’ll go get it if you’d like? I think you might enjoy it.”

“How do you think I’ll enjoy it if we’ve barely spoken- barely interacted. You don’t know me!” Tommy muttered, crossing his arms.

Wilbur smiled softly at him. “So, is that a yes or a no to the Walkman?”

“…Fine…”

The unnecessarily tall man in front of him’s smile grew larger. “Alright! I’ll be right back. Just wait one moment.”

Tommy didn’t respond and instead busied himself with unraveling a string attached to the strap of his backpack. Any more, and the strap would fall off, another thing to bring to Sam.

Sam was cool. He was the one who gave Tommy the jacket he was currently wearing. Before he’d been allowed to wear it, he had to promise to continue to add to the patch collection on the jacket. Sam had told him that he had to be committed to the jacket to be a ‘Certified Cool Jacket Owner’. It was definitely a big responsibility, but Tommy filled that role to perfection because of his Big Man status.

Right, he was waiting on Wilbur.

He didn’t have to wait much longer though, because, before long, Tommy watched him teeter out from behind the counter, nudging the saloon-style doors and hoping for the best. Tommy was certain that the brunette could barely see around the two medium-sized buckets balancing on top of each other in his hands. He could barely see Wilbur’s face, and he desperately tried to keep his laughter in. Spoiler Alert: he failed.

Wilbur had apparently heard Tommy’s uncontained laughter from the way he shot a glare at him from several meters away. He tripped in the process. Tommy laughed harder.

It took a bit to pick up all of the fallen cassette tapes that Wilbur called ‘precious’ and ‘priceless’ for whatever reason, and Tommy was forced to help. Luckily, it was made up for by seeing Wilbur’s plummet on the walk over to the table. He did not regret laughing as it was Actually Funny.

They set all of the cassette tapes they picked up on the table instead of back in the box so that they could look through them easier when the time came. Tommy barely glanced at the tapes as he did this but he definitely saw ones he wouldn’t like at all. He shoved those back into one of the buckets. There was no point in wasting time with looking through ones he obviously wouldn’t enjoy. It’d be wasting the time of Wilbur who was still technically working and should’ve been doing his job at that moment. Instead, he was bothering with Tommy—someone who didn’t pay for a library card or even check out books, barely even reading them. There was no point in bothering with keeping him around.

Wilbur couldn’t actually want to be doing this. So why was he doing it? There had to be some sort of ulterior motive, but Tommy just could not figure it out .

After the cassette tapes were all put into one of the buckets or set out on the table, Tommy and Wilbur sat down, Tommy in his usual spot and Wilbur across from him.

“So, what kind of music do you like—you know, the genre?” Wilbur questioned, stretching out his arms all the while.

“Uh… I don’t know what you’d call it, but I guess I like video game music,” Tommy answered warily. There was so much more that he liked besides video game music but he wasn’t going to tell this guy just yet.

“Oh! Alright, I’m sure we can find something similar or something. What kind of video game music is it? Because Ranboo—” Was that his name? That was a pretty crappy name, Ranboob was better. “—likes Undertale music, but there’s also like boss-battle music and-”

“I like Animal Crossing music! An- an- and… well… I guess I like khai dreams and the soundtrack of Hamilton, too.” He hadn’t meant for that outburst! Really. Really, he didn’t mean to.

Wilbur looked mildly surprised, and Tommy tried his best to not look him in the eyes. He angled his gaze down, away from his face and to the tapes strewn across the table. He didn’t glance up until Wilbur was halfway through his next sentence and had pressed his foot over Tommy’s underneath the table.

“-and me too! I really like Hamilton too! I’ve watched it several times. By the way… we should probably quiet down a tad; I can feel my brother glaring at me through several bookshelves. I’m sure we can find something you’ll like in these cassette tapes. Actually, I’m fairly certain we have some Hamilton ones buried here somewhere…” He began to sift through the tapes without another word, but Tommy continued to watch with wide eyes.

He watched as Wilbur put some cassettes in the partially full bucket, and he watched as he set some to his left and some to his right. He watched in amazement as Wilbur continued to ignore that he was being annoying. He was being annoying and not being punished.

Realizing that he was probably being even more annoying since he wasn’t helping, Tommy blinked his thoughts away and glanced down to the table. With too much awareness, he lifted his arms up and began sifting through the tapes like Wilbur was. Occasionally setting some in the bucket and setting some to either of his sides. Left for maybe and right for yes. Left was wrong, just terrible. Right was (obviously) right, it made so much sense compared to left . Left deserves to be left behind.

Tommy cackled internally. He was hilarious.

There was an assortment of tapes, he’d see a Nirvana tape, and then the next one he’d pick up would be Spice Girls. He set both in the bucket.

It was obvious that Wilbur and his brother had gone through a variety of phases when they were kids if these cassette tapes were truly theirs. Sure, sometimes he’d see a Britney Spears cassette, but then a moment later and he’d pick up a Tom Petty and Arctic Monkeys—Tommy had been told that Arctic Monkeys was a band Wilbur still enjoyed and that he should try them out; he set that cassette to his right, hoping to please him.

He had actually managed to find both video game music and khai dreams cassette tapes. Although there was only one khai dreams one, there were several (and he means SEVERAL) video game soundtracks and he was pretty sure Wilbur had some on his side, too. Tommy was pleased to find a few different Minecraft ones—he’d never played the game as he didn’t have any console that could play it but he’d watched others play it before, online, of course—and actually, an Animal Crossing one too!

It was exciting to see music that he knew and enjoyed from another’s perspective- or, well, to see that another also enjoyed the music. It was strange to meet someone like him. (Not like him, no one was like him, no one would want to be like him, no one should want to be like him.)

Wilbur had told him to at least try the Risk of Rain music. Apparently, it was really good and one of the songs was inspired by “Purple Rain” by Prince. A song he knew, but not well as it wasn’t the genre he usually preferred to listen to.

They spent roughly just under an hour going through the cassettes before they were done, but there were a lot of them.

When they had both finished, they pushed what they considered their ‘maybe’ piles to one side of the table and their ‘yes’ piles together. Tommy would go through all of the tapes and set the ones he wanted to the side and the others in the bucket.

“Should I like… limit the number of cassette tapes I pick if there are more I want to listen to than—I dunno—I should?” he wondered, looking up at Wilbur. Man, it wasn’t like Wilbur was taller than him, but it was annoying to look at him.

“Nope! It’s fine,” Wilbur corrected. “We don’t use these tapes much so it's not like we’re gonna miss them.” Tommy didn’t know what that meant, but he got his answer.

Tommy picked up one of the tapes from the pile in front of him. “Bruce Springsteen? I don’t know who that is.”

Wilbur rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah… this one is kinda far out, but you’ve gotta have a listen! I’m certain you’ll like it.”

Tommy sighed, “Alright, alright. Whatever you want, just piss off.” And Wilbur did piss off, so maybe Tommy was being a bit too mean, because no one ever actually listened to him. He almost felt bad, but currently, the silence felt comfortable (surprisingly) and he was fine for it to stay that way.

They kept the same rhythm for another half hour or so before they finally finished, and soon after that, they had the two original buckets carrying all of the unwanted cassette tapes (albeit they were not spilling over the top this time). The ones Tommy had decided he wanted to try were spread out across the table. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now. Luckily, he didn’t have to decide.

“Alright, Tommy,” Wilbur began, “you’ve got all the tapes now. All that’s left to do is to show you how to use the Walkman! Unless you already know?” Tommy shook his head. “Alright, so you see this little button with ‘Play’ under it—alright, well you can kinda guess what that does and get it right. You can also rewind, pause, and skip forward, so it’s basically a YouTube video but cooler. You’ll figure out anything you don’t already understand quickly.”

He wasn’t so sure about that one.

“Uh- okay…” Tommy said meekly. This was a lot of information, even if his brain was massive.

Wilbur took his phone from his pocket, opening it up. Tommy expected him to go away now that he seemed to have done what he wanted—though he couldn’t think of anything that Wilbur would want—but obviously, he wasn’t going to do that. What had Wilbur done that Tommy expected?  …Nothing…

“Oh-! If you want to get home around the time you normally do—or leave at the time you normally do—you might want to get going soon.”

“What time is it?”

“‘Bout ten minutes till six.”

How did he know what time Tommy usually left?

“Oh… well, then this whole thing was kind of pointless.”

“What?”

“Y’know… the cassettes.” Tommy vaguely gestured to the tapes.

Wilbur laughed. Tommy scowled. What was funny about wasting his time? “No, no! Tommy, I meant for you to keep the tapes—to bring them home with you. It’s fine, I swear!”

His eyes widened. He couldn’t accept that! It was probably some prank anyway… It was always that. Be nice to Tommy Innit and then leave him alone for entertainment or once you’ve gotten what you wanted. Only Mother had been kind to Tommy and not betrayed him, that was one of the truths he lived by. 

“I-I really can’t do that…”

“Yes, you can! I really don’t mind, and Techno’s the only other person who would ever use these again. He won’t care either, I swear.”

“R-really-”

“TAKE IT!”

A few heads turned in the direction of them and Tommy felt his face flush. Why couldn’t Wilbur let this go and spare him the embarrassment? Of course, the brunette didn’t seem to even notice the attention.

Wilbur raised his eyebrow, as if provoking Tommy to try and argue.

“Alright… alright. I’ll take your old man music listening thing that can walk home with me. Jeez…”

Wilbur beamed. Tommy groaned.

I feel like I’ve gotten myself tangled in a bigger web than I would like. (I would like there to be no web. (Need no attachments…))

Chapter Text

Phil had asked Techno to find some box in The Back™ while he was out collecting new books for the library, and he had internally complained, because why couldn’t Wilbur do this? 

Then again, if that was the case Techno would have to do counter duty and talk to people so maybe this was better. Wilbur was also pretty invested in that one blond kid—Tommy, or something.

Techno knew there was no hope of coercing Wilbur into helping him with his job and then bailing on him with that kid coming ‘round every day. His brother was so entranced with the boy and it was obvious Tommy didn’t know what to do about it.

Whatever. He was willing to let him have this. Wilbur had done a lot for him—a lot that he hadn’t repaid—and it was time Techno did something for him in return.

Sighing, he pulled the door to The Back open. It was a scary place, The Back. Filled from floor to ceiling with boxes in some spots, The Back was definitely interesting. It was built without lights, so the whole area was covered in shadows except for a little area they had sectioned off with some shower curtains. That area was their “break room” and was where Techno spent much of his time at the library. He was doing work though! Mostly going through orders on the crappy laptop he’d found in the building that shared their alley’s garbage (it was a tech company) some amount of years ago. But it worked, and no amount of being made fun of by Wilbur would keep him from using it.

Anyway. Finding a box that was probably pushed as far back as humanly possible. Yep. This would be possible. Techno felt like he was definitely sighing more than usual today, but he did it again. It was just that type of day.

Luckily, the box Phil wanted him to look for was a box that Technoblade had seen many times. It was the stupidest box of all time and was plastered with Dora stickers (courtesy of him, yes, of course, he had a Dora phase) and the parts of the actual box that were visible were scribbled on with neon Sharpies (courtesy of Wilbur). All in all, the box was gorgeous and would be so insanely easy to find if The Back was organized just a little bit better.

He’d leave trying to organize The Back to Niki. With how hard she tried and tried again, it was amazing she even still bothered. Honestly, it amazed Techno she was still willing to work at the library with how disorganized they all were. Phil was by far the worst out of all of them and he was the dang owner, so it was unlikely that things would get any better.

Somehow, by some magical otherworldly power (Techno assumed it was the Blood God watching over him), the box was sitting just behind one of the shower curtains.

Huh. Guess my work is done.

His work was not done.

Techno had texted Phil, letting him know that he had gotten the box and had gotten the simple response of ‘ That was quick. ’ which was then immediately followed by: Now I need you to find the Tamagotchi that’s in the box.

Why did his father need a toy from, like, the 90s? Was he looking to use it? His Tamagotchi was probably dead, and even if it was alive, it’d be quite upset with him by now.

He groaned. His family was weird, but he’d do this for Phil. It was—y’know—the least he could do for the person who adopted him. The least he could do.

Hunching over the box that had both childhood love, and now, adulthood hatred directed towards it, Technoblade began his search for the Tamagotchi.

He found the Tamagotchi; it was actually pretty easy, although it was sitting at the bottom since it had slipped through the cracks between all the other junk. 

The thing was, after having gone through a box of childhood memories and dreams, Techno remembered the cassette tapes from back when he and his brother were younger, and now he wanted to listen to them.

Yet, he didn’t find the cassettes or the Sony Walkman in the box—where they should have been.

Man, he wanted to listen to “Yellow Submarine” by The Beatles. :(

Techno stood up from his squatting position, cringing at the sound of his joints popping (no, he was not an old man yet- he refuses to believe he can age- that doesn’t work on him-), and plopped into the nearest chair. He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened up Wilbur’s contact, fiddling with his necklace all the while. No, he was not too lazy to go out into the main portion of the library and find his brother. No, because what if Wilbur was talking to Tommy and Techno interrupted them? That would be rude and awkward. So totally not up Techno’s alley. Also, it would require talking to someone directly whereas with texting you could laugh at someone’s stupidity aloud. So, you know, a plus.

He shot Wilbur a text and hoped for an answer, with how Wilbur had been acting recently, Techno wasn’t even sure if he’d receive one by the end of their shift.

Somehow (and thankfully), Wilbur answered only four minutes after the text had been sent.

I’m coming to the back. Be there in a sec

Well, that wasn’t the answer he wanted. Techno wanted to know where the Walkman was without having to deal with another human being. Even if the human being was his brother. Today was just not the day for human interaction, and he’d already gotten too much at school that morning. There was a reason he worked at a library that was managed by his father. For perks , specifically not-having-to-deal-with-people perks.

He had barely finished reading the message when Wilbur came into The Back, almost tripping over the very box that had caused Techno so much grief that day.

“Ayup, Techno,” Wilbur greeted. It sounded suspicious.

“Hullooo… What did you do?” Techno sighed.

“So… you see… Yesterday—y’know when you weren’t working—Tommy didn’t have any music for some reason—” Why did Wilbur know that he normally did? “—so I may have given him our Walkman and several cassette tapes…”

Why is he nice to this kid but not me?

“Okay… When’s he gonna give it back?” He rubbed at his arm, where he knew his tattoo was. It was a comfort knowing that it was underneath his zippered pull-over’s sleeve.

“Techno—I… let him keep it—but either way, you need to be nicer! I- there’s definitely… something up with him.”

Technoblade raised an eyebrow. “What do ya mean?”

“He’s… he’s- one moment he’s like edging around me—I guess?—and being pretty anxious and stuff, and the next he’s telling me to piss off… It’s like he wants to do what he wants, but something is keeping him from doing it. It’s weird.”

“Oh.” Well, Techno couldn’t do anything to help Wilbur figure this kid out, but he could offer some advice (he was extremely bad at it but Wilbur would see that he cared). “Well, maybe he's doing it for a reason? Look, I don’t know what to tell you, and you’re kind of an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“What? You know you can’t deny it.”

Wilbur groaned, pressing his face into his hands because he knew that Technoblade was right. Wilbur was kind of an idiot and deserved to know.

It might make Techno an idiot too, but he’d have to interact with Tommy… He wanted to know what was so special about this kid.

Chapter Text

Tommy had decided that today was the day he’d swing by Sam’s to get some of his stuff fixed. They’d talk for a while and then Tommy would head to the library for the day, leaving everything that needed fixing with Sam. He’d pick it up the day after tomorrow.

It was a defined schedule that had been produced after having his stuff fixed every so often for the past few years. After doing it twice, it became routine, and now, it’s tradition.

Normally, he would’ve gone into Sam’s as soon as he could after breaking something—especially if it was something as important as his headphones had broken—but this time, he was fine with waiting; putting it off even. It was the comfort of having the Walkman—the one Wilbur gave him—and he knew it. No matter how much he denied it, he liked (loved, really) it and the cassettes. He also didn’t realize he had a vibe until he got his hands on it, but he did, and he supposed his vibe was retro-y kind of stuff.

In a way?

Tommy didn’t like old crappy stuff—that was what people who liked vintage stuff liked. What he liked was an imitation of the past—and he had looked up the definition of ‘retro’, so he couldn’t be wrong. He liked the bright and colorful stuff of the 80s. He liked records and Polaroid cameras. He liked the cars and cartoons (old cartoons were the best).

And it was then that Tommy also realized much of his love of retro style came from Sam. Sam was the one who used to take Tommy riding on his old Harley Davidson motorcycle. Sam was the one who gave him his old jacket that already had old buttons and pins on and inspired him to continue with the pins and patches tradition. Sam was the one who had old posters hanging up in his workshop. Sam was the one that started it all.

Tommy would remind himself to thank Sam when he got to his place. (A thank you to Tommy was simply helping Sam with whatever while he was there, but Sam seemed to understand the sentiment behind the action.)

And so, as soon as the final period ended, Tommy set off not to the library, but instead to Sam’s workshop—Creeper Car Mechanics. Sam was sure to be working on a car at this time, but Tommy knew that he’d make time for the Great Tommy Innit, so he wasn’t worried about being ignored. (Not that anyone ever ignored Tommy. Except for Mot-)

Creeper Car Mechanics, or CCM for short, was farther away from both the school and his house than the library. Still, it was within walking distance for him as he had spent hours upon hours honing his body in the art of walking. Tommy guessed that he was probably around level 69 in walking.

He arrived at the workshop after a half-hour-ish long walk, and he walked right in. As expected, Ponk had his feet propped up on the counter where he sat. Ponk was basically Sam’s secretary and roommate. They lived in an apartment right above CCM. Tommy had been offered a room there, but of course, he refused it every time. There was nothing wrong with his current situation so he didn’t see why the room was offered.

Ponk glanced up at the sound of the bell above the door dinging. Seeing Tommy, he swung his legs to the floor and sat up. “Hello, Tommy!” he greeted. “Good to see you. You here for Sam?”

“‘Course, big man, but it never hurts to see you either,” Tommy answered, smiling brightly. Ponk was pretty high on Tommy’s list of Big Men.

“A’right! That’s what I like to hear. C’mon, I’ll take you to the back; we aren’t too busy right now.”

Ponk stood up and went into the client area, where Tommy was. The door to Sam’s workshop was across from the glass door that Tommy had come in, and there were multiple garage doors connecting Sam’s workshop to the parking lot behind the building. His workshop was where they were headed, so they made their way across the waiting area and to the heavy door that separated the workshop from the whiteness and cleanliness of the rest of the building.

Tommy and Ponk were about to enter grease heaven (and apparently, Sam heaven).

The door squeaked open, and Tommy wondered why grease just happened to be everywhere but the door hinges. He knew Sam would never get around to greasing up those hinges, as they had been like that for over two years and yet nothing had ever been done about them. Still, it made Tommy cringe and want to cover his ears. Having lots of previous practice, he managed to resist the urge.

It wasn’t a surprise that Sam didn’t notice them coming in as it was apparent that he had his angle grinder going at it. The question was what exactly ‘it’ was.

Sam had his usual gas mask on (to protect himself from breathing in sawdust and fumes or getting sparks on his face) and some safety goggles (to protect his eyes). Grinding away at the side of some metal object. Even with everything Sam had made him do when he was around, Tommy still couldn’t point out what one thing he was working on was. He never did understand how Sam knew what he was doing most of the time.

“Should we scare him?” Ponk whispered, leaning closer to Tommy’s ear so that he could be heard.

Tommy flinched at first, but quickly shook it off and smirked, nodding deviously. Sam would not be pleased, and would probably threaten to burn him with his blowtorch, but it’d be worth it. Sam wouldn’t do it anyway (he hoped Sam wouldn’t do it).

Sam was also, sadly (sad for him, not Ponk and Tommy), incredibly susceptible to tickles. He was, by far, the most ticklish person Tommy knew (although he didn’t know very many people well enough to know if they were ticklish). Tickling was the perfect way to scare Sam, because not only would he not expect it, he also wouldn’t be able to do anything about it too soon afterward because he’d be stuck laughing for however long Ponk and Tommy kept it up.

The only problem was that they didn’t want anyone to get hurt since Sam was using the grinder, and there were reasons he was wearing protective gear. Having thought of that, Tommy told Ponk that they should probably put on their own gear. It was what the mechanic would want, and it was the least they could do for him considering what they were planning.

The two went back to the door and pulled on two of the other coveralls hanging up on a set of hooks near the door. Both were gotten specifically for the two, and there were some extras just in case. Tommy had not only been putting patches on his jacket, but also his coverall. He couldn’t put pins on it because they had the possibility of catching on equipment or restrict his movement.

Once they both had their jumpsuits on and some boots (Tommy’s were Sam’s old pair and they were about two sizes too big) they made their way over to a bucket with copious amounts of safety goggles in it. They each put on a pair. 

Finally, they were ready.

Surprisingly, tickling Sam took quite a bit of thought and planning. He held a grinder and could get hurt if he dropped it while being tickled, so the two had to make sure that didn’t happen.

The angle grinder had an on/off switch near where Sam held it, so Tommy would reach for the grinder as soon as Ponk began to tickle him. He’d switch it off and pull it from Sam’s hands, setting it on the ground. Then he’d join Ponk and tickle Sam.

It sounded like a lot of work for one simple scare, but they didn’t get opportunities like this too often. They had to take this one.

With the plan… planned out, they were ready. 

The two pounced at the perfect moment; Sam had just stopped grinding away at a portion of the metal object in front of him, but kept the grinder on, now wiping sweat off his forehead. They came in for the kill, Ponk grabbing Sam’s sides, and getting underneath the arm that had previously been wiping the sweat away, tickling his underarms. Tommy reached around from the other side, stealing the grinder out of Sam’s hand and flicking it off. Then, he joined Ponk, screaming and shouting in delight all the while.

It was incredibly entertaining to watch someone who Tommy (usually) saw as strong and stern wriggling around on the floor.

Sam had somehow managed to roll away several minutes into the tickling, effectively ending his, what Sam called, torture. How unpog.

He glared at the two still laughing at his expense from several feet away, leaning against the project he was working on with his arms crossed. Well, at least Tommy was pretty sure it wasn’t dangerous.

“Y’know…” Sam began, “I’m oddly proud of you two for wearing safety gear and taking the potentially dangerous tool away before that —”

“That was me!” Tommy interrupted a wide grin on his face and pride in his bones.

“— but I’m also incredibly disappointed in you because you thought about it when it was for... that .”

Ponk and Tommy hung their heads. A scolding from Sam was no fun.

Sam sighed. “C’mon, guys. You act like puppies sometimes… I swear…”

Tommy glared at Sam. “I’m not a domesticated animal ! That would be so- so- blehg !” he exclaimed, scrunching his nose up.

“Well, the not domesticated part is right… Maybe you’re more like a raccoon…”

He launched himself at the mechanic, wrapping his legs around his torso to keep himself up and scratching at Sam’s shoulders.

Sam laughed. Clearly, he was unaffected by Tommy’s harassment. He simply helped Tommy stay up by wrapping his own arms around him. He trapped him. Tommy was stuck.

“I was right! You are a raccoon!”

Tommy hissed. He was the farthest thing from a raccoon! A- a- BIG MAN. YEAH. HE WAS A MASSIVE MAN. Not a puny, trash panda that ate things out of the garbage- wait.

-Not a puny, trash panda that looked like it had been in prison with all its stripes.

Yep, that wasn’t him.

But, he did need to escape, and raccoons seemed to be particularly good at getting themselves in and out of trash cans, so for now, he’d allow himself to access his inner raccoon. He needed to escape Sam’s iron grip.

Tommy struggled and struggled, and Sam seemed to finally have enough of accidentally being slapped in the face because he dropped him. On the ground. He landed on a wrench, and it was not pleasant.

A loud screech was ripped from Tommy’s throat, making Sam and Ponk cover their ears, even as they laughed. After the screeching stopped and the need to cover their ears ended, the two looked down at the blond on the floor, asking if he was okay.

“I dunno… do you want me to drop you on the floor so you know?” Tommy retorted.

“You’re really in a sour mood…” Sam muttered. Tommy glared at him while Ponk helped him up off the floor.

“Well, I came here for a reason.”

“ Well , what is that reason, Tommy?”

“I’ve got some stuff for you to fix.”

“Okay, well—hey, Ponk? Can you go back to the counter, I can handle this from here. Also, can you message Foolish, he was supposed to be here two hours ago for work—” So that’s why Foolish wasn’t there… “—what’ve you got?”

Without a word, Tommy went back to where he had pulled his jumpsuit on and picked up his backpack, which he had left there. Instead of going back to where the three had originally been, Tommy made his way to the workbench on the far left wall. It also counted as Sam’s desk and was where he currently sat. He normally did his smaller projects there (like fixing Tommy’s things).

“Well?” Sam questioned, spinning in his chair. “Whatcha got for me?”

Tommy slid his backpack off his shoulder, cringing as the strap he slid off snapped.

“Well… this.”

“Understandable. Here, let me get you a different bag to use until I can get this back to you.” Sam wheeled his chair to the far side of the desk and pulled a backpack out of a large crate. He didn’t bother questioning how Sam specifically knew that the bag was there.

“Anything else?” he asked, sliding the other bag to Tommy.

He reached for his backpack after setting the new one down on the floor beside him, pulling the pair of mangled headphones out.

“These.”

“Woah…” Sam’s eyes widened. “How’d you manage that, kid?”

“Got into a fight with my sister…” Yes, Tommy did lie to Sam about multiple things in his life. One being that he had three sisters, and two, he was not bullied, and three being, he played baseball. He was pretty sure Sam didn’t believe that he wasn’t bullied. “I won though—as usual.”

“Believable.” It was, in fact, not believable. BUT. Sam didn’t need to know that. All Sam had to do was believe that Tommy had three sisters (one of which was a total ass and got into fights with him) and that he could totally take one of them in a fight. He doubted that he’d be able to beat anyone in a fight, except for Wilbur. He could totally take him, no doubt.

“Anything else?”

“Nah… don’t think so. Thanks, though. Do you need any help? I can’t stay super long; I’ve got women waiting for me outside my house—they’re just lined up out there—and I gotta keep ‘em pleased. You know how it goes, big man.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Sam had lots of women, Tommy just knew it. “You might want to take your school stuff out of the bag I’m gonna fix. Just so you have it while it’s here.”

“YOOOO! That’s a pretty pog idea.” So, Tommy did as suggested and transferred his items to The Bag That Was Not His Own.

It felt weird having a different bag on his back. It wasn’t even that different! It still had six pockets, it still had that slightly worn (okay, his bag was more than a little worn) feeling. But, it still felt different. He didn’t know if he’d get used to it in the few days he’d be using it, and if he did get used to it, would he get overly attached and not want to give it back? Ultimately, Tommy wouldn’t just steal the bag from Sam (the guy had helped him out so much in the past), so he’d obviously give it back. Still, Tommy hoped that he wouldn’t get attached. Attachments were useless and didn’t serve a purpose, he was told and told again by everybody that this was true. There was no way it wasn’t.

“Soooo…” Tommy began after the strange silence that had come over the two as he relocated his stuff. “Do you need anything done?”

“Nah, go ahead and go to your ‘women’, Tommy. I won’t keep you,” Sam answered, shooing Tommy out the door. Why the hell did he do the little quotes sign thingy when he said women!?

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?? DO YOU NOT WANT MY COMPANY?”

“Tommy, would you like to stay?”

“Uhhh- n-not really?”

“Expected. Now get outta here! Go on, Tommy! Raccoons don’t belong in dangerous workshops, and don’t you dare mess with any potential customers on your way out!”

Tommy ran to the door laughing, sliding out of his coveralls at a breakneck pace, and quickly swung the lent bag onto his shoulders, continuing his momentum as he ran into the lobby. He waved a quick goodbye to Ponk before running out the door and down the street. The blond only thought to stop running after a good three blocks.

As unathletic as he was, Tommy was surprisingly decent at running. Huh, maybe he should’ve joined the track team.

Nah. Too much effort. Too much work.

Pausing, he took heavy breaths, yet, he smiled. Tommy was in a pretty good mood, and surprisingly running didn’t make it worse. Thinking for a couple more seconds (it was really tough), he decided that he wanted to run all the way to the library- or, most of the way. Even though he did think about it, he didn’t know why he wanted to do it, but he was pretty compulsive so he didn’t care too much.

And he ran and ran, and somehow, he made it all the way to the library running. (That was a lie through and through, Tommy didn’t even make it halfway running.)

Honestly, he was proud of himself—as you should be after running for at least a minute—and was ready to finish his homework for the day. His pride was fueling his motivation to work, so that was a plus.

He went into the library with a smile on his face (for the first time ever). Maybe he should go to CCM before going to the library every day. It seemed to make him light up—Sam and Ponk had always made him a fraction happier than normal. Most of the time, he just so desperately didn’t want to think about school or work anymore while he was at the library that his mood soured because of it.

By the time he reached his usual table, Tommy noticed something was dreadfully wrong. Not that he could tell what it was, as Mother said, he was terribly bad at reading the room and incredibly unobservant.

This soured his own mood, knowing that something was obviously wrong but not knowing what it was, was messing with Tommy. He wanted to know what the issue was but he simply had no idea. (If only Sam could fix that .)

Eventually, he found out—after Wilbur wandered over to his table, spotted Tommy, practically ran over, and asked him way too many questions. So many questions that Tommy completely zoned out and was thinking about how he found out. Oh- Wilbur was talking to him- oops.

“-Tommy?” Wilbur questioned, waving his hand in front of his face. “Oh, phew. Thought you had, like, died or something. Can’t have manslaughter added onto things I’ve done wrong. Anyway, where were you? You either didn’t get here at your normal time, or I’m blind—which is partly true; I wear contacts.”

“I was with some… acquaintances…” Tommy answered, confused as to why he was getting so deeply interrogated by someone he barely knew. “And have you really become attached to me to the point that you've established a time that was dedicated to me?” A rhetorical question. “That’s pretty stupid- unpog.”

Wilbur ignored the jag. “You can call them friends, y’know.”

“We’re not friends,” Tommy snapped, clenching his fists.

The brunette’s eyes widened but quickly reverted to his normal sly look. Teasing Tommy once again. “Are we friends, Tommy?”

“No.” Okay, he got not knowing that he was closer to his acquaintances than him, but still, Wilbur’s question was stupid and had no use of being asked. Tommy scratched at his inner arm in annoyance.

“Then what are we?”

“Barely acquaintances.”

“Oh! I’m that high on your list?”

Tommy ignored Wilbur, looking back down at his homework with roughly one question answered. Look… he got distracted, okay!? It wasn’t his fault that Wilbur was being an annoying little burnt crumb located at the bottom of the toaster. It wasn’t his fault he barely understood how the world worked while doing geography homework! How was he supposed to know where Malta was!? He’d never left this town before (except for that one Christmas—back when Mother still talked to her family—where they went to his aunt’s house)! 

He sighed, looking back up at Wilbur who still stood there. Just. Watching. Him. He didn’t want to ask it, but if Wilbur said no, he had fuel to make of him.

“Do you know much about geography?” Tommy asked quietly, silently pouting and hoping the answer was yes. If his geography grade went a mark lower his teacher would call Mother, and that never went well. He had to keep Mother proud of him.

“What do you need help with?” Wilbur replied, leaning over Tommy. He shied away from the closeness and Wilbur backed away, instead scooting the chair across from Tommy’s to beside his.

“My homework.”

He sat down and pulled a pencil, that Tommy hadn’t noticed, from behind his ear.

“Well, I kinda figured that. Which question?” He gestured vaguely to the sheet in front of the blond with his pencil.

Well, none of Tommy’s sheet was done, so why couldn’t Wilbur figure it out? He was still on question one.

“One.”

Wilbur grimaced, and read the problem aloud. Whether he was reading it to himself, or to Tommy, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t exactly paying attention.

“So you just need to plot the point on the map where Malta is. That doesn’t seem that hard, does it? What confused you?”

Tommy pushed his head into his hands. “Wilbur, I understand the question. I don’t know anything about geography. I suck at it,” he admitted, fearing to look back up at the man beside him—it was too embarrassing. “I don’t know where Malta is.”

He could feel the pair of eyes on him.

“Alright,” Wilbur began. Tommy prepared himself to be told he was stupid. “Ok… how about I get a big map and a few books to help you? Then, I’ll come back and give you some tips. There’s a game I like playing that is based around geography… You probably wouldn’t like it.”

He was going to help Tommy? Lifting his head up, he realized that Wilbur had already started walking away. Apparently, getting help was not a choice anymore. Still, he was thankful that the brunette was willing to help, he wasn’t sure what he’d do when Mother was told about his grades. She always did enjoy hearing that Tommy had good grades (one of the few things Tommy could keep, most of the time). He hoped this paper would raise his grade if he did it well (that was one big if).

Sighing, he dropped his head back into his arms, crossed this time. He figured he could take this time to get some shut-eye as he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night (it wasn’t Mother’s fault—that was her job!).

Wilbur returned soon after Tommy laid his head down, and he tapped the tabletop to notify him of the brunette’s return. It was a thoughtful gesture because Tommy knew he would have flinched if Wilbur had tapped him. Somehow, the older man saw this when he touched Tommy earlier and took it into account. It was a surprise, because anyone he would interact like that with would, in no way, take that into consideration. He was comfortable with touching Sam, Ponk, and Mother, but few else, if any others.

He raised his head, eyes finding Wilbur’s face and raising his right eyebrow in a silent question (he had learned how to do that last year from Foolish and did it to show his superiority).

“Well,” Wilbur began, “I’ve got the stuff.” He started to spread the map across the table. “Now, where do you think Malta is?”

“ I don't know, Wilbur ,” Tommy reminded him.

“Where?”

This was too much for Tommy- too much- Why was Wilbur putting so much pressure on him? He stared at the map, trying to find the small letters that spelled out Malta. The map only had the continents written out on it.

Balls.

Malta- Malta- Mal. Ta. Where did the name sound from?

“You don’t need to think that hard about it, Tommy,” Wilbur reassured, somehow soothing Tommy’s stress. “I’ll tell you the answer whether or not you get the question right.”

“There.” Tommy had pointed to a place in Africa. His reasoning? Africa had a lot of countries, so it only made sense that Malta could be in Africa, but it probably wasn’t where he pointed.

He hoped he was at least sort of close.

“Honestly, Tommy, you’re not that far off.” His eyes widened and a slight smile appeared on his face. “You know where Italy is—or roughly where it is?” Tommy thought for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, so Malta is a tiny island just below Italy in the Mediterranean Sea. Africa isn’t that far from it.”

He watched as Wilbur pointed to Italy, and then a speck in the water underneath it. The island of Malta was so small that Tommy couldn’t even see it! Then, Wilbur dragged his finger from Malta to the area Tommy had pointed at.

“See? You didn’t do that badly! Honestly, I’d be surprised if any of your classmates knew where Malta was without looking it up. And now that you know without looking it up… you’re smarter than them!”

Tommy smiled, taking a look at the small map on his paper; he was supposed to mark where Malta was on the map. He drew his eyes to where he knew Italy was, looking past it, and searching for the small island beneath it. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t find it.

“Wilbur…” Tommy mumbled. “I-I can’t see it… I’m looking where you told me it was, but all I see is blue!”

He smiled softly at the blond. “Here,” Wilbur replied softly. “I’ll mark it for you. Is that okay?”

Tommy nodded and slid his paper over to his left slightly (where Wilbur was sitting).

“There! It’s all marked now. Now… It seems like the rest of the paper is based on the culture of Malta… Which I’m assuming you talked about in class. There’s also a small block of text talking about it.”

“Yeah… so… I didn’t pay attention in class.” He laughed nervously. “Mr. Xile kinda hates me and I don’t particularly like him or the class so… I just- y’know- don’t pay attention.” Another nervous laugh.

“Well, okay.” He didn’t sound pissed at Tommy whatsoever, so he must be saving it for later. “I remember him… and he is definitely not the reason I like geography. You’ve got a textbook, right? Can you get that out?”

Tommy nodded, afraid that saying something stupid again might be the last nail in the coffin. He turned around and leaned over his chair, taking his geography textbook out of the Bag That Was Not His. He felt Wilbur’s eyes on him.

“Did you get a new bag?” the brunette wondered. Tommy flashed his eyes to him.

“No… I’m borrowing one of my acquaintance's bags while they fix up mine.”

“Well, that’s nice of them… Got your book now? Good, do ya know what chapter you’re in right now?”

Once again, Tommy nodded and wordlessly flipped to the chapter. Even though they were told not to write or draw in the textbooks, no one really followed that rule and Tommy was no different, hiding his notes complaining about Mr. Xile and drawings next to the pictures in the textbook. They weren’t super hidden, and Wilbur could easily see them.

He saw the man smile at the page. Tommy had no idea why (was he nostalgic about the culture of Malta?), but didn’t want to question it aloud, choosing to stay quiet instead.

“Well let’s get started! If you want to leave at your normal time, we’ve got half an hour, so let’s get as much of this done as possible. I’ll help you tomorrow too.”

That was not a question, so Tommy guessed that he was getting geography help from this strange, strange man. Mother would probably be very disappointed in him for interacting with strangers, but it’d been a few weeks so they weren’t strangers anymore!

It was probably going to be most definitely okay.

Chapter Text

Wilbur Soot had not gotten attached to Tommy Innit. No matter what Techno said, that did not happen. 

(It did.)

Within the past two and a half weeks (plus the few weeks before the two had spoken), Tommy had not missed a day of going to the library after school. Well, he didn’t come around on the weekends, but every weekday, he came—usually.

And no, Wilbur was not concerned that Tommy wasn’t there at his regular time. (When had he decided that 3:50-4:00 PM was Tommy’s time?) He had never gotten attached to a customer. Not even one of the regulars! And he vowed to keep it that way.

He seemed to wander aimlessly around the library for a large portion of the day. Obviously gaining some eye rolls and questioning looks from Techno and Phil—who was, for once, out on the floor and working the counter. 

Wilbur’s wandering only paused when he had managed to wander into the part of the library which he had been so clearly avoiding. That one secluded corner near the SAFBNT.

Tommy was there! 

Tommy was there? 

Wilbur swore that he hadn’t seen him walk in that day, and most definitely not at his usual time. It was as if the blond was a ghost and just floated through the door, only becoming visible once he had reached his- the table.

Man, I wish I was a ghost… I could literally dump water on Ranboo and it would be funny because he would freak out and I wouldn’t get in trouble. I would be such a little crime boy.

He walked up to Tommy’s table and was immediately noticed by him. (That kid had some seriously quick reflexes.) The blond lifted his headphones from his head and set them to the side, pressing the pause button on the Sony Walkman. Wilbur would be getting his full attention.

“Tommy! I thought you usually got here earlier? How was your day? Why-” Wilbur stopped, realizing that he was probably overwhelming him. “Tommy?”

The boy in front of him quickly recovered and told him that he had been with some acquaintances … whatever that meant. Wilbur teased him for a bit, trying to get more information out of him without it being obvious. He didn’t get much else- actually, he got ignored—for the entirety of a minute.

Eventually, the blond lifted his head from where he had planted it on his arms, turning to face him. Wilbur, in all honesty, thought that Tommy was going to tell him to go away. But instead, he asked for help. WITH GEOGRAPHY!!!

This was character development.

Well, of course, Wilbur could help him, so he told Tommy that he’d be back with some maps and books and left to go get them.

You see, the library wasn’t just a library, it was also a spot for tutoring, and his father and Niki both helped with it. This meant Wilbur could access lots of studying material and books with ease. Now, he doesn’t usually like to toot his own horn, but he had to admit that he was incredibly good with geography. That was just one of his many talents.

With a smile, Wilbur brought back the materials he had collected and set them on the table. It was time to help this gremlin with his homework!

It was apparent that Tommy had issues with geography. Yet, Wilbur found out that Tommy had ended up in the higher-level geography class. Or, he would be in it if Mr. Xile (eugh…) still taught the higher-level geography classes. Wilbur never liked Mr. Xile and had no idea how he still had his job as he was pretty sure that the teacher had a criminal record, not to mention that he had to be like 84 now.

Wilbur pointed out where Malta was, and honestly, with no knowledge of where it could’ve been, Tommy got decently close. He said as such and watched as the kid smiled, something he did too infrequently, in Wilbur’s opinion. He, himself, smiled as well because that smile was so bright and Tommy deserved to smile more.

The blond looked down to his paper, squinting at the map on the top of the page.

“Wilbur…” Tommy mumbled. “I-I can’t see it… I’m looking where you told me it was, but all I see is blue!”

Wilbur’s eyes widened a bit, surprised at the words, but softened quickly, giving a reassuring look to the blond. “Here,” Wilbur replied softly. “I’ll mark it for you. Is that okay?” And then Wilbur did mark it, and everything was okay.

When Wilbur asked Tommy to get out his textbook, he did, and of course, Wilbur’s eyes followed his movements. He watched as Tommy turned around and dug through a bag that Wilbur didn’t recognize.

“Did you get a new bag?” Wilbur questioned, hoping that Tommy hadn’t stolen it.

“No…” OH CRAP, WILBUR WAS GOING TO HAVE TO REPORT THIS KID FOR THEFT. “I’m borrowing one of my acquaintance's bags while they fix up mine.” Phew ...

Now, he had to recover from that scare quickly. “Well, that’s nice of them… Got your book now? Good, do ya know what chapter you’re in right now?”

Once again, he watched as Tommy flipped through the pages of the old textbook. It had the same cover as the books Wilbur’s class had used several years ago, so that probably meant that they hadn’t been replaced since then (had they ever been replaced?). He wondered what number Tommy had, and if he knew anyone in his class that had that number then. Whatever the number, Tommy was the same as any other high school student in Mr. Xile’s class; he doodled and wrote in the margins of the textbook.

He smiled at the page, recalling that the only person to ever get yelled at for doing that in his class was Techno. Of course, it had to be the kid with ADHD and social anxiety because why would a teacher pick on a kid they knew wasn’t neurodivergent? Surprisingly, Techno had taken it pretty well, and a few others even stood up for him. Mr. Xile was actually reported to the principal for being rude to multiple students, but the school obviously didn’t do anything about it.

At the end of the small, impromptu study session, Wilbur told Tommy that he’d help him out in the coming days.

While Wilbur was helping his brother and father close up at the end of the day, Techno sidled over to his side.

“Y’know,” Techno began quietly. “I saw the kid walk in here today.”

Wilbur glared at his twin. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he complained in a similar tone.

“It was for you to discover. 

“He had this smile—when he walked in—that was so big and bright; I can see how you got attached, Wil.”

“I’m not attached.”

“You helped him with his homework.”

“Anyone can do that!”

“Boys,” Phil called from the upper portion of the library. “Stop arguing, I just finished up and you two better be done down there if you’re arguing. If so, it’s time to get home.”

“Yes, Phil,” the two droned together, putting away the final books that had been left out by some customer who either didn’t know any better or just wanted to make their lives a living hell.

Standing up, Wilbur listened as Techno cracked his knuckles and stretched. He ran around the counter and to the door to The Back, opening it and swiping the keys hanging on the hook by the door. Then, he shut the door and locked it.

Phil shut off the lights in the library after him, and Technoblade had already reached the front door and was waiting for Wilbur to run across the room to catch up. Phil took the keys from his son and walked out the door, being closely followed by the twins. Turning around, he locked the main door, and the family of three walked to their car.

It was times like this that Wilbur realized that he might never see Tommy outside of the library. And it was also times like this that Wilbur was thankful for the library and all of its quirks and issues, but more importantly all of the people he had met through it and the relationships that had developed because of it.

So what? Maybe he was attached to Tommy Innit.

Chapter Text

It seemed that Wilbur wasn’t working in the library that day. Which Tommy was fine with—Wilbur tended to bother him when he was around and then Tommy would finish less homework than he would like. Now, he was fine with Wilbur helping with his homework and making small talk with him, but… he tended to get a bit too deep with Tommy.

And that was something Tommy didn’t enjoy too much.

Wilbur trying to learn more about him seemingly without reason made Tommy feel like he was indebted to him—which was probably true (see: the Sony Walkman and homework help)—and he didn’t like debts. They always seemed to end badly; same thing with favors.

Maybe the time without being bothered by the brunette would help Tommy get back into his right mind. Wilbur somehow had managed to make him completely disregard all the rules he lived by and it was seriously messing with Tommy. He was beginning to think that what Mother had told him time and time again wasn’t the truth- wasn’t what he should believe or follow. Which simply was not the truth.

Focusing back on the math assignment in front of him, Tommy began to work out the first problem on the side of his paper. He was getting to that age where Ms. Canon just expected him to have his own calculator (which he didn’t) and was able to calculate pi by hand. Which he could! It just... took forever . Sighing, he picked his pencil up and began writing the equation.

Halfway through it, Tommy felt a small tap on his shoulder and flinched. Who in their right mind would tap a stranger!? Turning around slowly, ready to tell this person to go away, he was surprised to see the pink-haired man who worked at the library. (Who was supposedly Wilbur’s twin brother and also named Technoblade. For now, he’d choose to believe Wilbur.)

Technoblade seemed rather startled himself, but Tommy couldn’t find a reason why as he was the one to tap Tommy. He made an impatient gesture, trying to get Technoblade to tell him what was ever so important- or whatever.

“Uh- Wilbur wanted me to ‘ang out with you or somethin’… I don’t really remember what he said. Oh! He’s my twin brother, by the way, and I’m Technoblade, by the way, but you can call me Techno…” he said warily. As big as he was, Tommy was beginning to realize that there wasn’t much to be scared of.

“I’m Tommy Innit. What’s with the hair?” he said bluntly. He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to say that. Why did he say that? That was so rude. He’s such an idiot. Gosh, he wished time machines existed-

Techno began to speak again. “I know that.” And then. “Uh- Um, my hair?” Tommy didn’t respond, but Techno went on. “I, um, like the color pink. I guess?”

“Oh, okay.”

And that was it.

He glanced at Tommy’s paper, noticing the equations lining the edges in tiny handwriting, sure to be erased later. “Do you want a calculator?”

Tommy’s eyes widened, not expecting this guy to be so nice after his rude question. He nodded, knowing that speaking usually ended badly for him (as seen just a minute ago). Without a word, Techno left Tommy’s side and disappeared into a doorway behind the counter. Y’know, this guy just might be enjoyable to be around. He seemed to be just about as awkward as Tommy- not that Tommy didn’t get ladies because of his awkwardness—if anything, it only added to his attracted...ive...ness? Attractediveness. Yeah, sure.

Soon after Techno left, he returned—although Tommy didn’t expect him to. This time carrying a calculator. Once he reached the table, he handed the blond the mathematical wonder that Tommy wanted oh-so badly and stood a few feet away awkwardly. Mood-

“Um…” he vocalized after staring at the guy for a second. “Do you- uh- want to sit… down?”

“Thank goodness you said something, ‘cuz I certainly wouldn’t have,” Techno answered as he pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and sat down quickly.

With the calculator he now had, Tommy was able to finish his paper within fifteen minutes. He really needed to scrape together the money to get himself one of these… 

As he erased all of his previous formulas that lined his worksheet like a picture frame, Techno began speaking; it startled Tommy as the man hadn’t said anything since he sat down. It was so unlike something Wilbur would do—even while Tommy was trying to focus on his homework—that he wasn’t sure they were actually related.

“Were you really going to do that whole page by hand?” he wondered. Technoblade’s voice was gravelly and reminded him of the stray dogs that he had befriended when they growled. (Tommy was never scared of them though, they were just wary of people because most of them had been hurt by people. He wouldn’t hurt them though and knew that feeding them would solve the troubles they might cause him. Those dogs were always the sweetest.)

“I guess… We’re not allowed to use our phone calculators for homework and I don’t have my own calculator… I’ve just always done it by hand. Sure, it takes a while, but it’s not that bad!” Tommy denied, not wanting to complain.

“You do realize that most of your peers prolly don’t follow that rule, right?”

Tommy nodded. “I just… hope that one day Ms. Canon will see that I’m, like, trying harder than them and—I dunno—raise my grade because I’m cool?”

Techno smiled at him (or, at least, he thought it was a smile, it looked more like a smirk; too demeaning for a smile). “You’re a good kid. Keep that up.” He reached out, ruffling Tommy’s hair lightly.

And, for some reason, he was okay with the touch. He didn’t have the urge to burn his hair to rid it of the germs that could have been on Techno’s hands. Although, he had a feeling that Techno’s hands were probably kept clean—cleaner than Wilbur’s, at least.

Tommy slid his homework into the folder beside him, already stuffed to the brim with other papers he wasn’t sure if he’d need again but didn’t know where else to put. He had a question resting on his tongue, yet didn’t know if now was the time to ask it. The moment would be ruined, he reasoned, as it was so comfortable and peaceful before.

Still, he asked anyway.

“So, where’s Wilbur today?” Techno’s eyes seemed to have already been on Tommy when the blond finally looked up to speak.

“Ri’ now? Well, he’s probably at home now—prolly sleepin’, to be honest—but he couldn’t work today because he had to stay late at school because of a test,” Techno answered. Tommy swore that he muttered something about wanting to be sleeping too somewhere in there.

“Oh, okay.”

“Sorry for him bothering you all the time. I feel like I need to apologize for him because I know he won’t.”

Tommy hadn’t been expecting the apology, but it was nice to hear one once in a while.

“It’s—uh—fine. I really… don’t care much.”

Techno smiled, and this time Tommy could tell that nothing was hiding behind it. He could tell that Technoblade was a genuine person.

“Well then, I guess I’ll join him in bothering you… Maybe if I’m having fun and it’s not just him he’ll be more likely to work…”

“That’d be rude.”

“Does it look like I’d be the type of person to care?”

Tommy shrugged, changing the subject. “What’s your tattoo? Can’t see ‘em now, but I’ve seen it before.”

Techno reddened. “My tattoo..?” Tommy nodded, vaguely gesturing to Techno’s left arm. Techno propped his arm up on the table, pulling his sleeve down. It was the first time Tommy had seen the tattoo so close.

The tattoo seemed to be a combination of things, but on the top was a strange symbol—a heart and triangle intertwined—that was layered over a guitar surrounded by roses. It was all in dark ink except for the pale red Tommy could see curving outward from the middle of the roses on each of the petals. It wasn’t a tattoo he understood, but he thought it was cool… just wasn’t one he expected.

“It’s…” Techno began, seemingly trying to find his words. “-Wilbur and I- we got adopted when we were five by Phil—yes, we are biological twins—and the symbol—the triangle n’ heart?—that’s the- like- symbol for adoption, I guess.” Tommy’s eyes widened, and Techno seemed to catch it, smirking a bit. “Didn’t expect that, did you? Phil’s the manager of the library, by the way, and our adoptive dad. We don’t look very similar.

“The guitar is because of Wilbur, he and Dad were there while I was getting the tattoo and I had promised him that I’d get a tattoo of a guitar for him—he’s scared of needles and didn’t want a tattoo because of that. He’s a scaredy-cat,” Techno added.

“I already knew that,” Tommy laughed, interrupting. Techno huffed (was that a laugh?), going back to his story.

“An’ the roses? Well, I just like roses. Pretty pogggg. I also have rose earrings. I like roses.”

“Pog.” He found out about his earrings and didn’t even have to ask! That was a pog moment. Sure, maybe they weren’t as badass as he expected, but he still found out about them without having to ask! And that was the best part.

“You usually leave around six, yeah?” Techno questioned, glancing down at his phone. Tommy knew that it was 5:30.

“Mhm, I know what time it is. I need to work on this assignment for science… You can stick around if you want but I do need to work on it.” He didn’t want to work on it; he didn’t want to stop talking to Technoblade, but it was true, he did need to get this assignment done. It was a large percentage of his grade and he needed to do well on it. Tommy was most of the way done with it and was sure he could finish it in two or three more days.

“Go right ahead.” Techno pushed his chair out and stood up, stretching. “I got too comfortable… Soon I’ll turn into Wil and not get any work done. Cya, Tommy, nice meeting you, gremlin.”

Tommy squawked indignantly at the pink-haired man leisurely walking away from the table. He heard him laugh (that was the first time he heard him laugh).

Maybe Technoblade and Wilbur weren’t so different.

After watching Techno duck into the doorway behind the counter and not come back out within a few minutes, Tommy looked at the next piece of homework in front of him. He sighed, lightly hitting his head with his palm. He desperately wished he could go to college with the amount of effort he put into school.

If only Mother didn’t need his help at home… He, of course, would never complain about what Mother restricted him from because she was doing what was best for him and she had always tried her best. If Tommy complained, he would be rebelling against all that Mother had given him and let go of for him. He was so grateful for her and never would want to make her think he was being ungrateful. Mother deserved the world with all she did for him.

He supposed that he should probably start working on this science project if he wanted to someday show her just how grateful he is for her.

Tommy had returned home to find his house still locked up tight (as tight as a broken lock could be, that is). Mother was still at work, then. He pulled the spare key from its place at the top of the doorframe. He was the only one who used it so he was the only one who had to be tall enough to reach it. Although, Mother was pretty tall and he was certain she could reach the key if need be.

He stepped into the house and closed the door with a slam. There was no one to tell him not to since he always arrived before anyone was there. He had no reason to be quiet. (He wouldn’t say that it was instinct; it felt like he was letting someone know that he was there.) 

There was no stopping to tug his shoes off until he reached the unmarked door that led to his room. His shoes went in his room to not let anyone know that another person lived in the house besides Mother. It was a safety procedure because Mother didn’t want anyone to hurt Tommy.

Sometimes he wished that he could stay at the library longer to put off the feeling of having to come home to an empty house. (Sometimes he wished he could have a normal family where there was a dad and less concern for safety.)

Setting down his bag and shrugging off his jacket, he went back downstairs and into the kitchen. It was time to make some dinner and take stock of what he’d need to get at the store next time he went.

He opened the fridge first, noticing that they were low on milk, butter, and eggs. He internally added that to his grocery list.

After checking what they had, Tommy decided to make some basic beans on toast. They didn’t have too much in the food department at the moment and it was easy. He prepared two pieces for both him and Mother, not knowing if company from work would come home with her too. She wouldn’t eat if they were. Once both plates of food were prepared, he checked the time, deciding that it was too early for Mother to be back within the hour, and instead put her food in the fridge where bugs wouldn’t be able to get to it.

He wiped the crumbs off the counter, finishing the cleanup of the meal preparation. With a sigh, Tommy took his plate and walked out of the kitchen, turning off the lights as he went. Soon, there was no trace of him downstairs and he made his way to his room to eat alone. Like every night.

Mother was trying her best—he knew that—but still, Tommy wished that he could have a family dinner for once. Maybe even sit at the unused dining table to eat. He wouldn’t lie and say that he hadn’t thought about selling that table for some extra cash without telling Mother. He’d never do it though! Mother would be upset with him if he did.

They were both doing their best, and that was enough for him. He guessed.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Wilbur.”

His brother looked up from where he sat on a beanbag chair in the living room. Wilbur had been on his phone, probably since he got home.

“Hi, Techno. You need something? Did you do as I asked?” he wondered, pocketing his phone and walking with Techno to the kitchen.

“Not really, an’ yes, I did it. I… kinda get what you mean now.” Wilbur tilted his head in confusion; Techno hadn’t been too specific and probably didn’t articulate what he meant well enough. “Tommy.” As if saying that helped any. “I- He’s—you were right—sweet. I didn’t really expect it, and you didn’t exactly tell me directly—” Wilbur had told him that Tommy was annoying. “—but I get what you meant.”

Wilbur smiled, slowly morphing into a smirk as he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter beside the sink. “Have you gotten attached? Even I haven’t gotten attached-”

“Don’t lie. You have.” Techno finished washing his hands and was now drying them. “I can see it on your face; I’m your twin, ‘member?”

Wilbur’s smirk dropped, but it was soon replaced with a smile. A soft one.

“I could never lie to you…

“Tommy… is- I don’t think he understands why he acts like he does, or he doesn’t know that he acts strange. Not that it isn’t endearing! But… There's definitely something up with him, and I want to help him—if he needs help—but sometimes he’s so open and then he’s not… You saw it, surely?” Okay, Wilbur, mood change.

Technoblade could hear the shower running- Phil. The two had begun to climb upstairs by the time he spoke again. 

“Yeah… I mean it’s kinda hard to miss. He- he switches between bein’ kinda rude and, like, questioning my choice of hair color—” Wilbur snickered. “—and then I can see how his brain processes what he said and he instantly regrets saying it—Wilbur… he looked so- so scared . And yeah, sometimes I instantly regret dumb stuff I do because I’ve done it without thinking, but this is on a whole new level. He’s—what?—sixteen? Sixteen-year-olds aren’t supposed to be worrying about being rude unless it’s to a teacher who might give them a bad grade because of it.”

“I… know what you mean.” Wilbur pulled open Techno’s bedroom door, letting him in first and then softly shutting the door behind them both. “We know from Ranboo that he’s not exactly well-liked at school, but Ranboo never said Tommy was a nuisance or anything. I can’t find any reasons that point to Tommy causing these problems for himself. He just doesn’t seem like the type of kid to do that! He’s—as you said—sweet.”

“I don’t want to see him like that again—ever.”

“I agree, but what are we s’posed to do about it? It’s not like we can go to his school and tell a whole bunch of kids to piss off and start liking Tommy. We’d probably get arrested.”

Technoblade’s eyes widened, an idea forming in his head. He smirked.

“Wilbur… what if we did go to his school? What if we had a library promotion day and went to L’Manburg Public High School to tell the students about it? What if while we were there we got to know the students better and see what was happenin’? Wilbur! We could do that!” he raved.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Techno…” Wilbur cautioned.

“You might be right, but this is the best we’ve got right now. Wanna go for it?”

Nonetheless, his twin grinned. “Of course. Let’s get Phil in on this. It’s about time we tell him more about Tommy Innit anyway, don’t ya think?”

They laughed, running out of Techno’s room and sliding down the hallway on their socks. They continued to run into the bathroom without a care that Phil was screaming at them to get out; he was showering. Currently, they had a scheme, and much scheming had to be done.

Chapter Text

What the crap.

What the crap.

What the crap.

WHAT THE CRAP.

WHAT THE CRAP.

WHAT THE CRAP!? WHY THE HELL WERE WILBUR AND TECHNOBLADE AT HIS SCHOOL ??? AND IN HIS AP ENGLISH LITERATURE AND COMPOSITION CLASSROOM? WAS THIS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WHERE THEY WERE TOMMY’S TEACHERS? (Oh, that’d be scary; don’t think about that, Tommy.)

Tommy saw Wilbur and Techno’s scheming looks, both at each other and at him throughout the past 2-ish weeks. He hadn’t known what they were planning until now, because it’s obvious that this was the lead-up.

He knew that the two had spotted him amongst the other kids in the room, even though he sat towards the back. He could tell by the wink shot his way and didn’t even listen to Ms. Baines’ spiel. (Tommy swore her name was Ms. Pains, and he would continue to use that [he did know it was Ms. Baines, and she really was a lovely teacher, but he needed an excuse to make the joke]).

Ms. Pains should really stop being a high school teacher and start teaching elementary school because she could simply not handle her classes; he couldn’t deny it. Tommy could hear her excitement (that could’ve been real) without even listening to her lecture on why there were two other people in their classroom.

The rest of the students in his class were passing notes to each other and snickering; of course, none were passed to Tommy. That would be unheard of! He continued to doodle on his arm in marker until the excitement in Ms. Pains’ voice curtailed and he knew the subject would be changed.

“-Alright, boys and girls, it’s time to head to the library. Mr. S-” She paused, seemingly forgetting what she was going to say. “Er- Your last names are the same, right? What would you like to be called?”

Oh wow, Tommy hadn’t even thought of the fact that Technoblade and Wilbur’s last names would be the same since they were brothers.

“Actually,” Wilbur began, “they’re not, and please, Wilbur and Technoblade are fine.”

THEIR LAST NAMES WEREN’T THE SAME!? Doesn’t that mean that they’re married or something..? Wait, the wife changes the last name, not the husband. Why do they have different last names then?

Tommy decided to ask when he went to the library. Although, since he was getting so much Techno and Wilbur content right now, he might have to skip out on the library today. He had a feeling that it would be Awkward.

“Ah… alright… Well, class—” who says class in that context, man? “—Wilbur and Technoblade have prepared something for us in the library! Come along.” He could tell she was about to ask that they form a single-file line.

The class stood from their chairs and began to trail after Ms. Pains and the two librarians, forming into their own little cliques as they walked down the hall. Even though Wilbur and Techno were in front of Tommy, he still felt like he could feel their eyes on him. It was not comfortable, and he desperately wanted the feeling to go away.

It didn’t.

They were hustled into the library, which was pretty spacious but felt small with twenty or so other people in there. There was a table with a selection of books and flyers on it with a poster on either side. It was all promotion for the library, and the books were probably randomly grabbed in an attempt to show diversity in genres.

Tommy knew that his class was not exactly big on reading. Most of them just preferred things like sports, and most of the boys in his class were on the baseball team or basketball team. He was not. Obviously. (Wow, imagine being athletic . How disgusting .) He thought there might have been a few who enjoyed reading, mainly Ranboob, but he literally worked at the library, so he didn't count.

Ms. Pains clapped her hands together and the class immediately stopped talking on reflex, turning to face her. (She had trained them surprisingly well, considering it all.)

“These boys have a presentation for us!” she announced. “If you could all find a seat on the floor, that would be great.”

The lights in the library were shut off as the white projector screen was pulled down from the ceiling and the projector itself turned on. His class, still in their cliques, sat down and looked at the kind-of-screen-but-also-not. Tommy leaned against a bookshelf several feet away from the other students. It surprised him that they were so invested in this. Usually, by now, they would have already pulled out their phones and started talking again.

It was then that he noticed the girl standing in the corner of the library closest to the table. She was one of the full-time workers at the L’Manburg Public Library, and admittedly, she looked like she didn’t want to be there. He felt that.

As Wilbur and Technoblade began their promotional presentation, Tommy began to realize why the girl didn’t want to be there. The presentation sucked balls . He wondered how he had ever thought so highly of Techno before when this was the presentation that he was putting on. Tommy thought no differently of Wilbur; honestly, he expected this from the man. Still, he expected better from the cooler twin. (That was Technoblade, for anyone who hadn’t noticed.)

The presentation had been made using the most obnoxiously colored words written in stupid fonts—was that comic sans? Tommy wondered if what they were saying actually had anything to do with the information on the screen because he couldn’t read it. It was hideous, and he was ready to be done with this whole thing.

So he quietly stood up and walked to where Ms. Pains and the librarian were talking quietly at the door. The two looked up to him as he approached.

In a whisper, Ms. Pains asked, “Do you need something, Tommy?”

“May I go to the bathroom?” he replied in a similar tone.

She nodded, smiling, stepping out of the way of the door and letting him leave the room. He got out of there as quick as he could, heading to the bathroom because he actually did need to poo! He hadn’t lied about that, but he was definitely not heading back to that cringe zone anytime soon.

He finished up after a few minutes and decided to go for a very slow walk down the hall and back; he probably wouldn’t get in trouble for that. He’d be fineeee…

When he left the bathroom, he was met with the girl from the library leaning against the wall beside the library door. She looked up from her phone when she heard him. Her eyes widened a fraction but her lips spread into a smile.

“Hi! You’re Tommy Innit, right?” she wondered, beckoning him closer.

“Uhm… yeah, I guess…” Tommy replied.

“Sorry! You don’t know me, do you? I’m Niki Nihachu; I work at the library and the twins have told me about you. They talk about you a lot…”

“I’ve spoken to Techno, like, twice?”

Niki shook her head a bit. “Eh… well, he does quite a bit of talking about you.”

Why would they ever talk about him to their coworkers? Were they telling Niki to avoid him because he was an issue and rude? Oh, man, he wished he knew.

“Oh! It was all good stuff, I promise. Honestly, I don’t think they could say anything bad about you.”

Tommy tilted his head quizzically, but his demeanor quickly did a 180. “Well, of course! How could anyone say anything bad about the great Tommy Innit?” He smiled.

Man, I am so charming and cool. I should definitely talk to women more often.

Niki’s smile widened and she laughed quietly. That was a great sign! He could make girls laugh at him; he’s just so incredibly funny. Tommy Makes Jokes 1000% Funnier.

“Shouldn’t you be helping Techno and Wilbur with their ‘presentation’?” he asked.

She laughed nervously. “I don’t think… they need any help. I- Uhm- I- I uh- They’re fine! They’re grown men, they can do it!” Niki said. She shot her eyes to the side, smiling awkwardly.

“Oh, no, I completely understand. They’re absolute idiots. Who even made that presentation?”

“Honestly, I think they made it in the car on the way here… This was kind of planned very last minute. Like, two days ago, last minute.” Tommy liked her accent, he didn’t know where it was from, but it was nice.

Tommy laughed, and the volume seemed to surprise Niki. He quickly made himself stop.

“I reckon that this was mostly Wilbur’s idea, innit?”

She smiled. “Nope! Techno came up with this.”

“No way…”

“Yes way! Uhm… sorry if this is a strange question, and a bit out of place, but we’re meant to be eating lunch here and I really don’t want to associate with those two in any way, so do you want to sit with me?” She smiled at him awkwardly.

Wow, when was the last time he ate lunch with someone? Whatever, he was happy with the company even if it happened to be with an adult.

“Sure! I should prolly mention that I usually eat lunch in the boys’ locker room—‘cuz it’s quieter, not for any other reason—but, I mean, we can eat somewhere else if you’d like!” His words were rushed, wanting to make sure Niki knew he was willing to compromise and that they didn’t have to eat amongst smelly boy sweat.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m the one who asked anyway! I think I remember where the boys’ locker room is from school… but can you remind me?”

“Yeah, it’s just down the hall from the gym—the dead-end hallway. It’s on the right.”

“Alright! Thank you, Tommy. We should probably get back in there, especially you— I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

“Ah… no, it’s fine! I should head in now. I told Ms. Pains- er- Ms. Baines that I needed to use the bathroom—which I did—but I really shouldn’t stay out here much longer lest she sends someone out to come get me.”

Niki chuckled. “That’s fine. Go on in, I’m sure Ms. Pains is looking for you.” He smiled crookedly and without another word, went back into the library and found his original place.

Guess he’s got a lunch partner now. Huh.

[Some amount of time] later, the lunch bell had rung, forcing Technoblade and Wilbur to hastily wrap up their presentation (thank goodness), and he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to wait for Niki—he didn’t even know where she was—or if he was just supposed to go straight to the locker room. The latter was Tommy’s best bet, and he would be more comfortable not standing in the hallway where passing students could stare and think he was a little quirky.

He had surprisingly not gotten his lunch stolen that day, although he believed that it was because of the distraction to his normal tormentors that was Wilbur and Techno’s presentation. Supposedly (though he’d only heard this through rumors, mind), one of the boys in his class had recorded the presentation and it was being spread school-wide. Of course, he hadn’t seen the video yet, nor did he want to. Tommy had a feeling that the older boys who typically harassed him were busy making fun of the twins and trying to impress girls with the video (yeah, he didn’t understand how girls would be impressed with a dumb, crappy video of a shoddy presentation).

Suffice it to say, Tommy’s lunch was full and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to finish it since he was so used to eating little around this time. 

Well, that was kind of a lie. He would still finish it even if he was miserable because he didn’t want to waste the food Mother had gotten with her hard-earned money.

Tommy took his usual spot in front of his locker and opened his backpack up. Normally, students would leave their backpacks in their lockers for lunch, but it was, unfortunately, a widely-known fact that the lock on Tommy’s locker was broken. He didn’t trust anything to be in it now, including his textbooks. They had been vandalized before and it had been blamed on him because it was his textbook and it was his responsibility . His teacher acted like he had done the vandalizing when Tommy had specifically told them the name of the student who did. He hated that teacher, hated them enough to forget their name, and gender.

Tommy pulled his lunch from his backpack. He had never had anything to put it in; no lunchbox or paper bag. No, he just grabbed a sandwich bag and shoved what he wanted into it. Maybe an apple if he was feeling healthy or something.

Today, he had a sandwich with turkey and cheese, one of these things were bound to be past their “this is okay to eat” date. He just didn’t know which one it was, although there was a little green-ish spot on his cheese- Doesn’t matter. Will eat.

It’d happened enough times that honestly, Tommy had managed to gaslight himself into believing that the spots made it taste better. Flavor spots!

Niki soon found her way into the boys’ locker room. Instantly slouching once the door was shut quietly behind her. She let out a sigh.

“I am so glad no one saw me go into the boys’ locker room. I am not interested in being seen as a weirdo,” she said, turning to Tommy. He noticed she held two small paper bags. Her lunch, he’d assume.

“Y’know… no one’s seen ya yet, but there are cameras in that hallway,” he replied.

She sat down across from him, leaning against the lockers on the opposite wall. No, he had never thought of sitting on the benches in the room. Her eyes widened. “Oh shoot, I didn’t think of that…” she muttered.

“No worries, they don’t check the cameras too often. You’re prolly good.”

Another sigh of relief. “Oh well?”

“Oh well.”

As Niki began to open up one of the paper lunch sacks, she started a new conversation. It felt weird to Tommy to have someone to talk to during lunch, but he knew that if he got used to it (yes, that could happen within a day and has ) his world would just come crashing down the next day. He tried not to think about it too much.

Live in the moment. Live in the moment. Live in the mo-

“Where’d you get all your patches, Tommy? Some of them are certainly… interesting- but cool! They are all very cool. I really like your Tony Stark one—’proof that Tony Stark has a heart’. Very cool,” she complimented.

“Oh! Yeah… the patches are usually either homemade, made by one of my acquaintances, or I’ve found them at a business here in town. The pins are found at festivals and shops around here,” he explained.

She squinted at his backpack, and then looked at Tommy again. “Y’know that your sandwich has meat on it, right?”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah, I’m not actually vegan. I just found this one ‘n thought it was funny, so I picked it up.” She was talking about his ‘Vegan Rebel Scum’ patch, a reference to Star Wars, that was sewn onto his backpack.

“Where’d you find it?”

“The trash. Don’t know why anyone would throw something that incredible away.”

He watched Niki’s face morph through unreadable emotions. “Maybe they weren’t vegan anymore.”

“Yeah, maybe.

“Now, I wanna hear about how embarrassing Wilbur and Techno are. Today was pretty humiliating—even for big man Tommy Innit—so I’m sure they’ve done worse things.”

Niki laughed. “You’re right about that! Those two… They certainly got into a lot when we were in school together.”

“You went to school together?”

“Yeah! I was in the class below them, but yeah, we went to school together. Technoblade and I were in a book club. Actually, that book club is still a thing, but I’m not supposed to talk about it.” She smirked. “You seem pretty trustworthy but I shouldn’t tell you more. It’s a secret,” she whispered.

Tommy’s eyes widened. “WOAH! Man… I wish I was a part of a secret club.”

“It’s a lot less interesting than it sounds; I’ll tell you that much.”

“Still, I want to be in one. Sounds cool as balls.”

“Balls?”

“Yeah, balls.”

“Okay then…”

“Embarrassing stories I reckon are next on the talkin’ about list, yeah?”

“Sure, sure. Sorry, I got distracted.” Niki took a bite of her salad (who brought salad for lunch?) before continuing. “Skeppy, a guy in my year and Techno’s friend has a thing with pranking his friends. Especially his best friend—like, they’re seriously close—anyway, he consistently got Techno to help him prank the dude—Bad BoyHalo’s his name, by the way. One time, they filled his locker with shaving cream and when he went to open it, the shaving cream just went everywhere. I don’t know how they did it, but they still ended up having to clean it up. So then, the embarrassing part, right? Techno was watching from a bit away next to Skeppy and took a step forward, not realizing that there was shaving cream in front of him. He literally did one of the classic cartoon ‘oh, I slipped on a banana’ falls. It was hilarious! The look on his face was priceless! I think someone recorded it… If I can get the recording I’ll show you at some point.”

Tommy laughed loudly and unconstrained. He could barely calm down enough to form a sentence. “Wh- what about- HAHA- what about Wilbur? Do- do you have any f-for him?”

Niki was laughing too but nodded as she wiped at her teary eyes.

“Yeah… yeah. Okay—” she let out a slow but shaky breath “—I’m calm, I’m calm… Yeah, so Wil, when he was a kid—and maybe sometimes now, honestly—he would eat literal sand , and had debates with Philza about how healthy it was and the nutritional value and whatever.

“This kid literally made his family have to cut down on their beach trips because he would eat copious amounts of ground-up rock when he was there! Techno loves the beach and he felt betrayed by Wilbur because it was his fault they couldn’t go as often, so whenever it was just Techno and I hanging out, I’d try to get my parents to take us to the beach for him. I’m glad one of them ended up with brains because two stupid twins would ruin Phil’s life even more than it already has been.

“I think he still believes that sand is relatively healthy, honestly.”

And thus began Dying of Laughter part two.

Although it was interrupted by the locker room door flying back on its hinges and whacking the back wall. The two could still barely silence themselves to figure out what just happened. Luckily, they didn’t have to wonder for long. Because lo and behold, it was the twins.

Both of their eyes were blown wide open and they stood with wide stances and clenched fists. They panted heavily as Techno leaned against the door to keep it open.

“HOW’D WE DO!?!?” Wilbur exclaimed, running forward and pulling his arms closer to his body, clenching his fists tighter. It reminded Tommy of children gazing up at older kids they admired. It was as if Tommy and Niki held the twins’ worlds in their hands and depending on what they said, it could make or ruin their entire day.

Once again, Niki and Tommy burst into giggles, tears falling from their eyes freely.

THAT PRESENTATION SUCKED ASS.

Tommy was on his back holding his stomach, his legs flying up sporadically, one hand trying to cover his mouth to cease his endless squeals. Niki was practically cackling and basically bent in half with her head in her hands.

The twins seemed to look at them with confusion and hurt. How dare Tommy and Niki laugh at their omega awesome presentation!

They could barely contain themselves with Techno and Wilbur spewing out complaints about the laughing. Tommy didn’t know how he managed to stop. He coughed a little, trying to regain his breath.

“YOU- you guys… YOUR PRESENTATION SUCKED- SUCKED BALLS!” he laughed, falling deep into laughter once more. Niki made a confirming type of sound but was immediately followed by her giggles, too. The twins gawked at the two but soon fell into their own chuckles and laughter.

The four seemed to calm down, taking a few minutes of silence still filled with half-coughed-out chuckles and snorts. It took Tommy the longest to calm himself, but he managed—albeit while stuffing his face with his minimal food to stifle some chuckles.

“The- the presentation was great! It was the best we could do in- ten minutes…” Wilbur defended.

“Mhm, we put our blood, sweat, and tears into that. Did you see those slide transitions and Alarmy Stock photos!?” Techno exclaimed, waving his hands around.

“The slide transitions and Alarmy Stock photos… THAT SUCKED ASS!”

The twins cried.

“B-bruhhhh,” Techno warbled. “We put so much time and effort into that and you tell us that !?”

Tommy nodded sagely.

“Maybe they’re right, Techno…” Wilbur mumbled, sighing and gripping onto Techno’s hand, and leaning against his side. Ever the dramatic.

“Woe is me… Whatever shall we do?”

The two readjusted ‘til they were no longer leaning against each other, opening their eyes to stare directly into Niki’s and Tommy’s. These twins were entirely in sync and it was scary.

“You’re right, that presentation did not pop off.”

“Finally,” Niki sighed, smiling. “We dragged you over to our side.”

Techno nodded. “Yeah, it was pretty terrible… but it was the thought that counted!”

“Not with this,” Tommy deadpanned. The two pouted.

Wilbur sighed loudly, groaning, too.

“Maybe this promotion day wasn’t such a good idea…” he bemoaned.

“How did you two even find us?”

“Ranboo.”

“How did that kid know?!”

Wilbur shrugged, but Techno answered, “He’s the main character, and I, his sensei. I taught him all he knows, and it’s coming upon the time that I face a tragic death so he is motivated to save the world.”

“You watch entirely too much anime, Technoblade.”

“Eh, prolly true.”

“Oh—Techno, Niki—I just got a message from Phil; he’ll have to pick us up a bit late. Apparently, he got held up.”

“How? The library isn’t even open today.”

“The library’s not open?”

Niki turned to Tommy. “No, since us three were out doing ‘promotional’ garbage—” she rolled her eyes “—and Ranboo can’t work before school, Phil would’ve been the only one working which isn’t enough staff for the library. Have you ever met Philza before, Tommy?”

“No… I haven’t even really seen him.”

“We’ll get you to meet him at some point!” Wilbur exclaimed. “I don’t want him to be the only one not suffering.”

“You’re the one that hangs out with me. I’ve told ya not to bother me before,” Tommy reminded.

“FALSE INFORMATION!”

“Believe what you want… but it won’t change the truth.”

“He’s right, Wilbur. You’re getting desperate.”

“SHUT UP, PINKNOBLADE! YOU ARE TOO!” Wilbur, like a little child, stuck his tongue out at his brother.

The twins continued to bicker as Tommy spaced out. He glanced up to the clock above the lockers on Niki’s side. It was soon to be time for lunch to be over if it was right—which it wasn’t that often, but it could be. He’d just listen for the bell.

He absentmindedly zipped his backpack up, still not really paying attention to what was happening around him until Wilbur properly addressed him.

“Tommy? Tommy, is that all you’re gonna eat for lunch?” Wilbur wondered, a strange emotion in his voice.

“Well, that's all I brought. So yeah,” he answered bluntly, barely flinching at the mention of his name.

“Do you want anything else?” Niki asked, holding out a paper-wrapped chocolate chip cookie. “I have an extra cookie if you’d like it.”

“Nah… it’s fine. I don’t mind! I don’t want to waste your food, either way.”

“You wouldn’t be wasting it, Tommy.”

“I-”

Technoblade groaned loudly, stopping Tommy’s sentence and entering the conversation. He instantly changed the topic.

“Ughhhh, I can never finish my lunch… I never seem to have an appetite at lunch as I do at breakfast n’ dinner. I should really learn to get myself less food since now I have all these extra chips,” he groaned, a bag of chips sitting showily in his hands.

“I’ll eat them!” Wilbur exclaimed, going to snatch the bag from Techno’s outstretched hand. The pink-haired man pulled his hand back quicker.

“NO! You’re not ‘llowed to. Uh- Tommy? Do you want them? I can’t let Wilbur have ‘em, but I don’t just wanna throw ‘em away, that’d be a waste. I’m sure you understand.”

“I mean- I guess?”

“Perfect!” Techno exclaimed, smiling and pushing the bag into Tommy’s hand.

The bag was quickly finished off and dumped into the trash bin sitting nearby. Tommy fiddled with a pin on his jacket, twisting it ‘round and ‘round as he pretended to not notice the twins’ and Niki’s pointed looks at him. He contributed to the conversation and spoke when spoken to, but said little else. His mind felt distant and really just not there? Speaking was just too much work, it felt like a marathon, which he was obviously not cut out for in the first place. So he must not be cut out for talking. Tommy would be okay with that.

Still, he didn’t understand their looks, so he sat unquestioning until the bell rang. Officially, it was the end of lunch and time for Tommy to head back to his class.

He quickly stood up, swinging his bag onto his back as he stepped forward. By the time he was at the door, the other three had stood and were throwing away their trash from lunch and saying their goodbyes to Tommy.

“Bye, guys!” he called, opening the door. “I’ll see you sometime later.” Probably. Tommy didn’t define a date or time, knowing that he would be not allowed out of the house for a day and that could interfere with what he told someone. That would make him look suspicious, and neither he nor Mother wanted that.

A chorus of different waves and byes reverberated through the room in different tones and pitches, but as they rang in Tommy’s head as he made his way back to his Biology class, he couldn’t help but find comfort in the clashing.

He felt a strange feeling in his chest once more. A feeling he’d felt more often recently, and a feeling he was terrified of. Like last time, he didn’t have a clue as to what brought that feeling upon him, but he’ll take it in stride. It’s time he accepts that feeling as his own instead of pushing it aside. It’s about time he thought more about what made him feel the way he feels, and it’s about time he figures out what Techno, Wilbur, and Niki really meant to him.

Chapter Text

Niki wasn’t majoring in Psychology for nothing. She genuinely enjoyed learning about people and their habits, how to help them, how to guess at their issues without knowing them personally, and guiding them towards help.

Especially that last part.

She had grown up with someone, a friend, who meant so, so much to her. But all things come to an end, and hers was sooner than Niki could have ever guessed. It hadn’t been natural. And now, Niki wanted a better ending for others. Nobody deserved the burden of feeling the urge to… commit themselves to something that could never be reversed.

Death.

Niki had spent days, weeks —maybe even months— mourning her best friend. She had been fourteen then. Afterwards, she moved to L’Manburg and started her first year of high school at L’Manburg Public High School. And it was during that year that she worked really, really hard to improve herself. If she continued with her state of mind she’d been in then, the path she was on now would be much different. That path might not even be clear to walk through. She could have been stuck in that forest that was her mind with no way to escape.

Wilbur Soot and Technoblade Minecraft seemed to know exactly what would make her happier. On that very first day, they had barged into her life—quite literally. The twins were late to their first class, which also happened to be Niki’s. From there, they were told to sit on either side of her. (The teacher wanted the two boys at least partially separated so that they wouldn’t disrupt the class, so they put her, a quiet student, between them.) Regardless of the teacher’s attempt, the twins were inseparable and continued to pass notes between each other through Niki.

Later that day, Techno and Niki found out that they had all of the same classes except for one, so they decided to talk more. And talking more led to hanging out more, and hanging out more always meant more Wilbur.

Soon, they were a trio—an inseparable trio—and Niki found her path. She had gone to therapy through the end of her freshman year to the middle of the summer after senior year. It had been a great decision and one that was supported by those she loved. Her therapist had truly been the one to set her on the right course.

Her therapist, Punz, had begun to ask Niki what she wanted to do with the rest of her life during her junior year; something she hadn’t ever really thought about. Niki had wondered about his job, and he had explained what it was like talking to his patients, the relief of talking someone through something really important or stressful, helping people, listening to them, and hearing from their friends and family about how much better his patients seemed.

He was honestly kind of scary, but being a therapist seemed to work for him. He worked with all types of patients, usually ranging from tweens to adults. Truly, he was one of the best things that she could have asked for.

Niki wanted to be like him.

Now, she was a grown-up, and she was studying Psychology at school with the hopes of becoming a therapist or social worker. She wanted to help those young kids who felt like the world was collapsing in on them. She wanted to help those like the one she couldn’t stop—those from years ago—because now she could help stop them.

Tommy.

Tommy acted like many of the kids in the online simulations she has had to do for class. The classic flinching away from touch, mood swings, denying common necessities, being both defensive and afraid to talk back. Frankly, it scared Niki. She didn’t want this sweet kid to be sad, she didn't want him to be like those simulated kids. He deserved better. Every kid deserved better, in her opinion.

She couldn’t just immediately think that Tommy had been thinking had been experiencing some kind of abuse, though. That would be unprofessional, from both a Psychology student’s point of view and in a customer to worker relationship. Though the only real interactions she’d had with him had been outside of work, the point still stood.

Once she and the twins had returned to the library following their chaotic promotional visit, Niki brought this up with them.

“Tommy’s got… vibes,” she started, hoping that they knew the way this conversation was going.

Techno plugged his crappy laptop into its charging port in The Back.

“Vibes as in the cool jacket with the patches? Or vibes as in bad joo-joo vibes?” Technoblade questioned, turning to look at Niki. He took his seat at the small table, Wilbur followed suit, and Niki sat across from them.

No one else was in the library, so it was even quieter than usual, making it seem lonelier and darker than ever. The library was not one that often seemed that way, as it was almost always filled with light; both literally and physically. (There were so, so many windows.)

Niki let out a sigh. “Neither. He- he reminds me of those projects I told you about. The simulations I had to do for class? Those.”

“Oh.”

“Honestly…” Wilbur began, glancing off to the side. “I get that. The day I helped him find a book… he just seemed so out of it and distant but also not wanting to cause confrontation while also being defensive. Tommy’s a sweet kid, but I gotta agree, I reckon the kid’s got issues.”

Techno’s finger drew lines across the creases on his pants and his eyes followed. He certainly knew Wilbur and Niki were waiting for him to answer, but he took his sweet time. When he did finally answer, he looked past Niki’s head and into the black abyss of the curtains behind her.

“Wilbur and I decided that there was definitely something up with ‘im. It- It’s like he doesn’t know what his personality is , or he changes it so frequently dependin’ on who he’s around that nothing about him feels real or genuine. He feels fake.”

Wilbur and Niki nodded along to Techno’s statement. None of them wanted it to be true, but they couldn’t deny the truth. The kid really did seem fake at times. Too happy, too distant, too sweet, too surprised.

It really concerned Niki.

“So, we agree we need to do something about it, then?”

After some hesitation, the twins nodded.

“Now- you know we can’t get too involved, that’d scare Tommy away, and we don’t want that. We also don’t want him to think that something about him is wrong.”

“Right,” Niki agreed. “So, what do we think? Gimme some thoughts.”

“He’s for sure being bullied,” Techno listed. “No reason as to why he’d eat in the locker room besides that. The kids at school definitely think he’s weird. All that was kinda the reason we went to the school. Wilbur wanted to check on him.”

“Hey, you did too! But… yeah, he’s definitely an outcast at school. He’s also pretty nervous around adults, it seems. Tommy doesn’t seem to like being given things—I think he treats it like presents and gifts are pity, so not a good mindset-”

“Food intake was definitely off for a sixteen-year-old boy. He should be eating more.”

Wilbur nodded and continued, “He seems pretty thin; boney—which many teenage boys are, but this seems Wrong—and he calls people his ‘acquaintances’, not his ‘friends’. It’s like he’s not supposed to have friends or something, and fears that even recognizing he has friends himself will get him in trouble.”

Niki took in the information. “Well… we obviously can’t do anything, but I think he needs some friends first. Ranboo doesn’t really have any friends at school, right?” Technoblade hummed in response. “That’s what I thought. I want ‘em to get closer or something, they both need friends their own age anyway. They can’t keep hanging out with old people.”

“We’re a year older than you!” Techno cried in irritation.

“9 months.”

“Same difference!”

“Still, you get my point. I think Ranboo has wanted to approach Tommy before, but I’m pretty sure that he’s kinda terrified of him. You, Techno, need to do some instigating to get him to be more willing to talk to him.”

“Yeah… I get what you mean.”

“Good, that concludes our meeting, then. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

The twins left The Back and left Niki to close the library for the night.

Sighing, she stood up and stretched. She needed to go to bed early tonight. Today had been a lot.

Chapter Text

That Ranboo kid had been lurking around Tommy more. He swore the kid was edging closer to him each time he turned his head! Tommy didn’t know why Ranboo kept doing it, and he was getting tired of it. It was time he did something about it.

He whirled around, knowing that Ranboo had snuck closer in the short time Tommy wasn’t looking in his direction.

“Do you need something!?” he huffed, tensing his hands in exasperation. Tommy was incredibly done.

Ranboo flinched and looked down at his shoes. (Ugh, another basic Converse boy.) “Uhm… would you- would you like to- to sit at lunch me with? No- uh- Would you like… to sit at- sit with me at lunch today?” he stammered.

“Why?”

“I-I-I don’t really know? I just! I don’t have any friends and I thought-” Tommy relaxed a bit. Ranboo was being oddly suspicious but he highly doubted that he could even leave a mark on Tommy if they ever got into a fight.

“Thought that I didn’t have any friends?”

“I didn’t say that…”

“If I hadn’t interrupted you would’ve.”

“True… but do you?” He was getting braver now, huh?

“Not really, but you, Ranboob, are the farthest person I’d want as a friend.” Tommy didn’t want any friends, for the record.

“WELL! I-I want you as a friend. So I’m making you sit with me. Come along now.”

And so, Ranboo took Tommy’s wrist and began dragging him to the lunchroom. By now, their classmates had already left, leaving them alone in the halls.

“Can we not sit in there!?” Tommy exclaimed, pushing his heels into the floor to try and slow them down.

Ranboo stopped abruptly, making Tommy run into his back.

“Uh- where else would we eat?” Ranboo questioned, tilting his head. For someone who constantly wore a face mask, he was really quite expressive.

“Where I sit? In the locker room?”

“Oh. I guess. I need to get my lunch, though.”

“Okay, I don’t care. Find me—or don’t, preferably—once you get it.”

Tommy walked to the locker room, flipping off Ranboo along the way. He headed down a hallway that split off and led to the gym. Ranboo ran after him since the cafeteria was also in that direction. He walked as fast as he could away from Ranboo. Tommy was trying to spend as little time as possible with this kid, and since he didn’t seem to be giving up on eating lunch with Tommy, he’d have to ignore him and be as boring as he could (although, that was pretty hard for him).

He couldn’t have Ranboo wanting to spend even more time with him. It was unnecessary and Ranboo should be doing better things with his time.

Once he was in the locker room, he sat in the same place as he always did, leaning against his locker. Moving his backpack to his lap, Tommy unzipped a small pocket, where he kept his lunch.

He knew that he had none as he had almost been late to school that morning because he stayed up late to be reprimanded by Mother. It had been his fault, as always, and he knew that she was just doing it so that he’d learn to do better in the future. He dug into the pocket, hoping for anything but getting nothing, as expected.

Tommy sighed, taking his plastic water bottle from the side pocket of his backpack. At least he had something to drink. (Maybe if he hadn’t gotten his lunch money stolen—again—that morning, he would buy himself some lunch like Ranboo was doing now.)

Ranboo soon found his way into the locker room, glancing around nervously as if he was going to get jumped at a moment’s notice. Tommy wouldn’t be surprised if he had gotten jumped before. He looked like an easy target. Maybe he should try it sometime. He could run from the cops if necessary. It wouldn’t be too hard. Honestly, it could work.

Tommy, still staring at the door that Ranboo had entered by, felt Ranboo sit across from him through the floor vibration and flinched.

“Where’s your lunch?” Ranboo wondered after a moment. He seemed to have noticed Tommy had flinched and gave him a few seconds to calm down.

“At home,” Tommy simply replied.

“Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions—I fell asleep late last night becau- and I wasn’t able to put lunch together.”

“I know. Why don’t you get lunch from the cafeteria, then?”

“You really are asking a lot of questions—didn’t have the money.”

“Why not?”

“Okay, can you just stop with the interrogation!?” Tommy yelled, his voice cracking. He didn’t care. Ranboo was really grating on his nerves and making him nervous. He was getting too personal.

Ranboo’s eyes widened, hands freezing with his sandwich centimeters from his mouth. “O-oh… sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, I know I question people too much. Sorry…” To himself, he whispered, “You’ve done it again Ranboo! You idiot, that’s why no one wants to be your friend.”

And now Tommy felt bad. Great. He looked down at his lap.

“It’s okay… Sorry I yelled. I can be overbearing too. Look… let’s talk about something you enjoy. Books, right? Let’s talk about books!”

He had to change the subject. He needed to make Ranboo feel better. He wasn’t supposed to be rude or mean. He wasn’t supposed to yell or talk back either.

The subject was changed, and the air was stiff and difficult to breathe, but Tommy ignored it as best he could. He dressed himself up in a tight-lipped smile that no secrets or wrong words could escape. His posture was tense, and his bones felt immoveable.

Somehow, Tommy had managed to keep his lunch money through the whole day. He had eaten his lunch and still managed to keep it. And at the end of the school day, he still had that five-dollar bill sitting in his back pocket.

On days like these, he was happy. Today, he was going to an ice cream stand to get vanilla ice cream with his five dollars. The perfect way to spend it. Afterward, he’d go to the library and study for his Geography quiz with Wilbur. They had planned it out the day before. Neither of them knew how to study properly for a test, but they would try their best. Wilbur said that he’d get Techno to help if they had to.

The ice cream stand Tommy was going to was on the way to the library. It was one he’d gone to before, but not anytime since he’d started going to the library. He wanted to savor his ice cream since he didn’t ever get it. Ice cream was a luxury he didn’t need but could get on occasion. When Tommy could get it, he’d eat it as slowly as he could without letting it melt all over his hands.

When he arrived at the park the ice cream stand was located in, he found it to be bustling with parents and young kids that had just been released from school. Their endless energy was apparent. The parents were evidently tired of dealing with them and sent them off to play at the playground while they took a breather on a bench. He wishes that Mother had done that for him when he was younger.

The stand was just as busy; a mix of ages was in line for ice cream and around the stand at various picnic benches. Tommy got into line as soon as he could.

Any more people in the line and he probably wouldn’t be able to get ice cream for a good half hour. He was hoping for his ice cream to take under twenty minutes, but who knew how many people were standing around waiting and in line. He felt bad for the workers, knowing that there were only three last time. Maybe there were more this time.

Man, all he wanted was his ice cream, and he ran into this ass.

Ranboo.

Ranboo the little dude. Little man. Never to be as big as Tommy Innit. The tiniest little boy on the planet.

“What are you doin’ here?” Tommy asked bluntly, standing up straighter and turning to Ranboo.

“Getting ice cream?” Ranboo answered, tilting his head.

The blond had just gotten his ice cream and was making his way out of the area to get to the library when he ran into this guy. He was standing in line holding hands with a young boy with pink hair. It reminded him of Techno’s hair.

“So, who’s that? Are you a single parent?”

“My cousin .”

“So you’re not a single mother barely makin’ it by?”

“No! Why would you ever think that?”

Tommy shrugged. He hadn’t wanted to assume.

“Whatever. Why are you with this kid? Don’t you work today or somethin’?”

“Well, Tommy, his name is Michael and I do not work today. I’m babysitting for my aunt.”

“Oh. I don’t really care… so I’m gonna leave.”

He turned around, starting to walk away, but was stopped by a tight grip on his arm.

Tommy sighed, “What do you need?”

“Can we spend a few hours together? You’re much better with children than I am,” Ranboo admitted. Tommy, in fact, was terrible with children and the only reason the street kids liked him was because of the food he gave them sometimes.

Though, he wasn’t one to turn down an opportunity to raise his self-esteem. If Ranboo said that he was good with kids, then he was.

“I’m obviously better with kids than you!” he exclaimed.

Ranboo seemed to sigh in exasperation quickly before a grin formed on his face. “Mhm, mhm. I need to get ice cream, but once we’re done with that we can head over to the playground and play with Michael.”

The child at their feet jumped up and down, waving his hands in wild signs. Was this kid a part of a gang?

“OH! I forgot to mention that Michael is mute! He’s learning sign, and I know it, but it’s pretty easy to tell what he wants or is trying to tell you.”

Tommy nodded, glad to know that the small child was not part of a gang. He wasn’t sure how he’d take that information if that was true. Well, first, he’d ask if he could join the gang, and then he’d ask how Michael got into a gang. Next, he’d-

Not the point.

Ranboo had taken his phone out in the time it took him to regain his thoughts, and was now sliding it (not even sliding, my man, it was so messily done) back into his pocket. He didn’t know what the taller boy had done on it but imagined it was suspicious. Everything about Ranboo was suspicious. You can’t be that tall and not be suspicious. Wilbur was sus too, but he knew that the moment he saw the brunette.

“You got vanilla?” Ranboo wondered, seemingly grossed out, but Tommy had no clue why.

“Um. Yes. It’s the only flavor ever,” Tommy answered with the absolute truth.

“Oreo is ten times better.”

He internally smirked. “How’d you rate vanilla ice cream?”

“0/10. No doubt about it.”

“0 times 10 is still 0!” he screeched, laughing maniacally. Ranboo was so DUMB. “You just got fooled, big man! BHABAHA! L!”

L. L. L. L. L. L. L.

“Got me there.” He did get Ranboo. He got him good .

“I know, I know.” And that was where the conversation ended, leaving the two and the small child in silence. Awkward silence. Terribly awkward silence.

They stood like that, moving forward a space in line, for another three minutes before it was Ranboo and Michael’s turn to order. Tommy was questioning why he stood in line with them when he could’ve walked over to a table and waited for them. Though, he had a feeling it was because he liked being around people. Which was ironic, considering that he chose not to have friends and chose to be lonely.

The walk to the playground after the other two had gotten ice cream was also silent, aside from the small noises Michael would make with his hands or feet. The kid was naturally pretty active, it seemed—the total opposite of Ranboo—and it was like he never stood still. He was constantly shifting around in some way. A strange toy was in his hand and he was fiddling with it. Tommy didn’t know what it was, but he did know that whoever gave it to Michael was not aware of the proper way to act.

Tommy remembered when he was like that. Mother had pulled that out of him; she had trained him how to act properly and not like a fool. Michael would have to learn soon, too. There were times when he wanted to do something like he used to but stopped himself knowing that he’d make a fool of himself. It was what Mother said, after all.

As soon as Michael finished his strawberry ice cream cone (the ice cream matched his hair, Tommy noticed), and Ranboo had wiped Michael’s hands of any leftover stickiness, he ran off to the playground. He found a random child he could play with and they were off.

Ranboo watched his cousin closely, as he was the one responsible for him, but Tommy didn’t care as much. His eyes flicked across the playground, glancing at one thing for a second before moving on. It seemed that Ranboo had deemed Michael safe enough with who he was playing with, and was watching him less closely now. Although, Tommy only knew this because the boy had started talking to him and he was not paying attention at all. He should probably do that. Yeah, probably. Will he, though? Yes, because what if he doesn’t and Ranboo hates him? That’s one more person who doesn't like Tommy when there were already too many.

He’s decided he shall pay attention.

“-and that’s why I’ve vowed to never play Uno with Wilbur again,” Ranboo ended.

“WOW! Wilbur is such an asshole. Honestly, man. Great story,” Tommy said. He was so good at faking it because if he wasn’t then Ranboo would know that he hadn’t listened to any of that and he was only just following the conversation. And it wasn’t even following the conversation, Tommy was just going along with it and hoping for the best.

Look, he was trying his best. Although, his best wasn’t much.

Wait. What was Uno?

“I know right! Oh… I just remembered that the book I got from the library is several weeks overdue. As per usual…” Ranboo sighed. “My memory sucks, but I know Philza understands so it should be okay.”

“Philza is the owner of the library, right?” Tommy wondered. He’d heard the name several times, but still didn’t quite get who the guy was.

“Mhm, he’s also Wilbur and Techno’s dad. He’s nice. Next time you come to the library, you should talk to him. I’m pretty sure he’s heard lots about you.” Tommy’s eyebrows scrunched together tight; the things said about him were probably bad. Oreo boy took one glance at him and immediately started shaking his hands rapidly. (Jazz hands?) “Good things, of course!”

He relaxed a fraction. Ranboo seemed to recognize his physical tendencies based on what he was feeling, and he had barely spoken to him. Maybe he was just good at reading people. Tommy wished he wasn’t. He hated knowing that someone could read his mind by just looking at his body language. Half the time, he didn’t even know what he was thinking or feeling or what he was doing! So why did Ranboo get to know?

“What else would they say about me? There’s nothing bad to say.” That was a lie . “Sorry to say this, Ranboo, but I do need to get home if I want to study. I meant to study at the library , but that didn’t happen.”

Tommy stood and Ranboo followed.

“Oh shoot! I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed as much as I did. Well, bye, Tommy! I had a good time with you today. Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“If you pay.”

“Of course, of course. Always.”

“Bye, then.”

With a flick of his wrist, Tommy waved as he walked in the direction of his house. As soon as he was out of render distance, he started running home. He needed to study. Maybe he should get Wilbur’s phone number to help him study over the phone.

Wait. He hadn’t said “no” to Ranboo. He should’ve. Now he’s obligated to hang out with him.

Tommy hoped he’d forget, as he seemed to do it quite a lot. He himself would forget as soon as his studying started (he tried to tell himself this). All he had to do was focus! Heh… heh. He had never focused before in his life.

Chapter Text

Ranboo promised himself that he would never forget what Tommy told him that day. Honestly, the blond had acted kind (sorta) and seemed to be amused by kids. And he wasn’t about to forget that Tommy hadn't exactly said “no” to his offer of hanging out.

It hadn’t been his plan to run into Tommy on his day off. All he had wanted was some ice cream! He still had to watch Michael for the day—which wasn’t much work considering how cooperative he was—so Ranboo deserved a treat. (Even if said treat was bought with his own money.)

He was no good at reading body language, but reading Tommy’s was so easy. Too easy. And it was solely because he recognized so many of his habits in himself and a few others he knew. Ranboo could tell that he hadn’t been paying attention to any of his story about how he’d never play Uno ever again with Wilbur, yet he continued to talk because he knew that if he stopped, it’d make it awkward when Tommy did try to pay attention only to realize nobody was speaking. 

Ranboo didn’t want to unknowingly diagnose Tommy with something… but… it seemed pretty likely. BUT HE WOULD NOT DIAGNOSE HIM. He was no professional, and therefore, would not speak his opinion. Tommy had probably already gone to the doctor’s and gotten told that he was fine, anyway! He was probably just overthinking all of this. Come on, scratching at your hands and arms without noticing is perfectly normal! Ranboo just hadn’t ever noticed people doing it before because he has exactly 1… 2… 3… 4… 5 FRIENDS! Ranboo has five friends—if you can call Tommy his friend… and the other four adults. That was honestly really good—for him. The last time he had this many friends was probably never.

As Ranboo walked home, having just dropped off Michael at his aunt’s house, he continued to wonder about Tommy.

He was really quite crude—something that would never fly with Ranboo’s family. He also ate lunch in the locker room, and while Ranboo knew that they both had exactly no friends at school, he still ate in the cafeteria, so why didn’t Tommy? Not that Tommy had actually eaten any lunch. He might not have had any money to buy something either. 

It was only then that Ranboo realized that he probably should have offered some of his food to Tommy. That would’ve been the polite thing to do! And he hadn’t done it. (Although, Tommy probably would have denied it anyway… Still!)

Sigh. Why can’t being a good person and having friends be easier?

All Ranboo wanted to do was to go home and eat dinner with his moms. He’d then leave the table as soon as possible to hide away in his room and blare some Lemon Demon. Today was tough, even if it was supposed to be a day off from work. Honestly, work would have been ten times easier than what he had to deal with today.

Friends were more effort than they were worth. (Don’t let Niki hear him say that.)

He entered his house to the smell of spaghetti, his favorite. Mimi liked to make it when he had days off of work, and he greatly appreciated it. Days he did work often meant not being able to eat dinner with his family, so they liked to eat together when they could.

Mom didn’t seem to like spaghetti as much as them, so she often ate something else, like a salad, on these days. Ranboo could hear her chopping up something in the kitchen.

“I’m home!” he called, untying his shoes and taking them off the proper way. (Anyone who just pulled them off without untying them first and shoved them back on their feet later with the laces still tied were heathens.)

“Good evening, Ranboo!” Mom shouted, making her way to the entryway. There was a towel flung over her shoulder, and her long black hair was pulled into a braid that cascaded over one shoulder.

She must have recently gotten home from work, as she still wore one of the gray wool skirts that she wore to work every morning. His mom worked as a funeral director; a job he knew he could never do because he would end up crying alongside the families he was supposed to be helping.

Mom ruffled his hair quickly before he could stand up—standing, he was too tall for her to reach up and do it. “You go and wash your hands for dinner. I hope you haven’t had too many snacks.”

“Just some ice cream. Does Mimi have another client after dinner? I can’t remember her schedule today.”

“Mhm, just one, and then she’ll be back home and we can watch some movies or play a game or something.”

Mimi worked as a personal trainer at the L’Manburg gym. Ranboo was honestly surprised the town even had one, let alone one that got any business. If there was anyone fit to work there, though, it would be Mimi. He was fairly certain that she could pick both himself and Mom up at the same time, and even more certain that she’d done it before and he just hadn’t remembered.

Ranboo nodded and went to the bathroom, washed his hands, and went into the kitchen to see what he could help with before they ate.

“Ranboo, honey, can you set the table?” Mimi questioned, vaguely gesturing to the cabinet with the plates and bowls in it.

Wordlessly, he followed the directions and also brought the food over to the table. Soon, the table had everything on it and the small family sat down. Food was quickly dished out and his moms began to ask him questions about his day.

“It was good. You know that Tommy kid I was telling you about?” he said. “Well, Michael and I saw him while we were getting ice cream and we spent some time together. He’s honestly better than I expected.”

Ranboo would never tell his moms that he was practically bribed by Techno to befriend Tommy. They’d be incredibly disappointed in him, and he would feel terrible too. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t bothered trying to get to know Tommy before, as Ranboo was just as alone as him. Not to mention that it was incredibly easy to talk to the blond after you got past his sometimes violent tendencies and insults. It hadn’t phased Ranboo though, having had experience with both Wilbur and Techno. Wilbur tended to be rather critical of every little thing, and Techno had somewhat violent tendencies—it was partly why the pink-haired man did fencing.

“Better than you expected? What did you expect?” Mom wondered.

“I dunno, but it wasn’t what I expected. Honestly, I like him quite a bit.”

“That’s good! Bring him over for dinner sometime,” Mimi insisted.

“Mom,” Ranboo groaned, “it’s not like that!”

“Oh, I know that, silly. You can still bring him over though. It’s nice to invite your friends over.”

He sighed, knowing that no matter what, he and Tommy would be forced into dinner at his house at some point. He knew that Tommy was never going to agree to it, and he dreaded the day that came. Time to start pitying himself.

Soon, he was allowed to leave dinner after recounting all of what he did that day. That was a part of his daily schedule, and his moms made him do it in hopes of improving his memory. Most days he didn’t mind it unless he had something he wanted to do, which today, he did.

He just didn’t remember what he had wanted to do.

It was something to do with Tommy. Ranboo knew that. But, what was it? The blond had mentioned it, he knew that. He had felt bad about it, he knew that. It had something to do with the library, he knew that. He had apologized for it, too. So what was it?

… 

… 

STUDYING!

Right.

That was what it was.

Man, he’s so good.

Tommy had wanted to study at the library, but because Ranboo had kept him back in hopes of gaining more intel or whatever, he hadn’t been able to. He had wanted to help Tommy study in some way now since he kept him from doing it before.

He was fairly certain that Wilbur had mentioned helping Tommy with his homework, and since finals were coming up, it made sense that Tommy would want to study. Ranboo tutored some of the kids at the library, but he got paid for that. He’d call Wilbur’s work with Tommy tutoring but he knew that the brunette wanted it, in no way, to be a paid position. Wilbur had said something sappy like, “Tommy’s company and occasional smile when he gets something right is enough payment for me…” or something like that. Whatever it was, it was sappy. There was no doubt about it.

Ranboo didn’t know what studying style Tommy liked most, so he made some flashcards for him over geography (he remembered Wilbur mentioning that was what he worked on with Tommy most). He then wrote various notes to himself reminding himself to ask Tommy if he’d like to study with him. It was the least he could do for wasting his time.

As he got to work on the flashcards and various other studying materials, Ranboo began to wonder.

His relationship with Tommy seemed less business now, to him, at least. He hadn’t even spent that much time with him yet! Usually, it took weeks for him to get close with somebody, but he was so drawn to Tommy. It was like everyone was a magnet and everybody else was negative—and so was he—but Tommy was positive, so he was pulled toward him against his will.

And, honestly? He didn’t particularly mind. Ranboo was beginning to realize that there was much more to the blond than his brash exterior. He wanted to memorize all of his inner workings and quirks.

Maybe this was what had happened to Techno, Wilbur, and Niki. They seemed to immediately latch onto Tommy and like being around him. He seemed to make all of their worries float away and become obsolete. That’d be nice.

Chapter Text

Today, Tommy was joined by both Wilbur and Techno as he sat in the library. It was uncommon that they were all together at the same time. He was studying for his geography final with the flashcards Ranboo had made for him recently. Apparently, Oreo boy had felt bad about unintentionally preventing Tommy from studying.

Honestly, he had barely been miffed. The time he had spent with Ranboo had been decently enjoyable, so he didn’t mind much.

Tommy wasn’t sure what the two were doing at the table anymore, as Wilbur had told him to study on his own for a bit (for whatever reason). Techno, who had been there for funsies and the occasional help with English, was now just sitting beside his brother, playing on his phone.

They weren’t ignoring Tommy, and they weren’t being rude. He was certain that they were just trying to find any reason to get out of work, and today, that reason was “helping Tommy study” when they were definitely not doing that.

He didn’t mind. It was the most comfortable Tommy had been all day, which wasn’t saying much considering how terrible his day had been.

A shiver ran through him and he tugged his jacket closer; he heard the air conditioning unit groan as it started up. It wasn’t quite mid-May yet, and it already seemed the hottest it could be outside. Tommy was glad for the air conditioning, as he hadn’t expected it in the old library building when he first came here. He wasn’t willing to take off his mega-cool jacket in spite of the heat outside, so it was nice knowing that he wouldn't sweat through his shirt and jacket while inside the library.

He would cry if he sweated on his jacket.

The silence that surrounded Tommy was nice. It was nice knowing that comfortable silence did not just happen after math assignments were passed out and the class was focusing incredibly hard on them. Although, that was also nice—in a different way.

After a few more minutes, Tommy put away the homemade flashcards and picked up the book Wilbur had brought him today. Supposedly, Techno had picked this one. He wondered what it was about and quickly flicked the book open to read the synopsis, not bothering to read the title.

He’s realized that reading the title of a book makes him more likely to decide the book was trash and never touch it again. Reading the synopsis first usually kept him from throwing the book at Wilbur until at least the end of the first chapter. (And yes, that had happened before.)

“As Florin and Guilder teeter on the verge of war, the reluctant Princess Buttercup is devastated by the loss of her true love, kidnapped by a mercenary and his henchmen, rescued by a pirate, forced to marry Prince Humperdinck, and rescued again by the very crew who absconded with her in the first place. In the course of this dazzling adventure, she’ll meet Vizzini—the criminal philosopher who’ll do anything for a bag of gold; Fezzik—the gentle giant; Inigo—the Spaniard whose steel thirsts for revenge; and Count Rugen—the evil mastermind behind it all. Foiling all their plans and jumping into all their stories is Westley, Princess Buttercup’s one true love and a very good friend of a dangerous pirate.”

Ehhhhh. He’d read the first chapter at least, and then maybe continue reading or throw the book at Wilbur’s head. 

Look, just because Technoblade was the one who picked it out, didn’t mean that he was the one who deserved the book to the head. Techno was a lovely man and deserved a better brother—someone like Tommy Innit. Still, he doubted the book was all that good.

Tommy flipped to the front.

The Princess Bride

He continued to read down the front. Okay, so it was abridged by William Goldman and was apparently the ‘good parts’ version. Tommy didn’t know what that meant, but he assumed that it meant that it was better than the original. Well, he assumed Techno had liked the book and thought that he’d like it, so he was hoping for the best.

If he did end up liking it well enough and didn’t get to chuck the book at Wilbur’s head, he’d do something else. He really wanted to throw something at his head.

Sighing, he flipped to the first chapter and began to read.

He felt a tap on the table in front of him, making him recoil even though the brothers had started doing that after they learned he flinched when they tapped his shoulders. Obviously, it didn’t help much.

It was only Wilbur, so Techno must have returned to work at the counter.

“Hey, Tommy, it’s about time you get going,” Wilbur murmured, settling his hand on Tommy’s back.

The blond quickly stood, setting his backpack on his chair and messily shoving his homework and study material into the largest pocket.

“Hey, now. If you do that, your papers and the cards Ranboo worked oh-so-hard on will get all wrinkled!”

“Eh,” Tommy shrugged, “I don’t think any of my teachers are fazed about any of my wrinkled papers anymore. I don’t particularly care.” He glanced down to the library book still open on the table.

“I can take that for you.” Wilbur held his hand out, waiting for the book to be set in his hand. “Did you like it?”

“Uh- yeah. Would it be… possible for me to check it out? I really want to finish it. I really liked it. Although it’s not necessary! I know that can be a hassle and all…”

Wilbur beamed. “No, no! Of course not, it’s no issue. C’mon, bring the book—we’re going to the counter.” He took Tommy’s arm as soon as he had his things and his book, not allowing him any time to push in his chair.

Tommy was alarmed, but quickly gained his footing and trotted alongside the taller man. It was hard to keep up with him, even at what was a walking pace for Wilbur.

“Hello, dear brother of mine!” Wilbur exclaimed in greeting to Techno as they came to a stop in front of the counter. “Tommy, here, would like to get a library card and check out The Princess Bride .”

“Oh? Really?” Techno wondered, glancing at a twitching Tommy, who clutched the book to his chest.

“Yeah, um… How much are the cards? Lemme get my wallet out,” Tommy answered.

It was silent for a moment while Tommy pulled out his beat-up wallet. He’d had it for several years and had picked it up out of a garbage can behind a Tesco. It had been pretty good quality then, but over the years, it had worn down.

“Well… how long would ya like it for? 6 months? A year?”

“6 months is fine.”

He honestly had no idea how much library cards cost, so he didn’t have any previous experience to compare it to. He didn’t think Techno or Wilbur would rip him off, though.

“So…” Techno glanced at Tommy’s now open wallet rather suspiciously. Tommy glared at the pink-haired man and pulled the wallet back a bit. Just because he believed that he wouldn’t be ripped off, did not mean that he was convinced at all that he wouldn’t be stolen from. “Roughly 35 dollars, but we’ll bring it down a bit cuz’ you’re a minor… so 28 dollars. Sounds good?” The amount seemed low, but Tommy decided to just go with it.

“Do I have to have Mother sign anything?”

“Nah.”

“Okay, then yeah. What next?”

“Well, ‘and me the money, I’ll get out a card which you’ll sign, and then I’ll sign it, and you’re done. You can check out any books you’d like.”

Tommy fished out the money and handed it to Techno and waited while he ducked beneath the counter. He heard some shuffling and Technoblade quickly reappeared, card in hand. He passed it across the counter, and the blond was handed a pen.

Tommy had never had a remotely acceptable or consistent (or readable) signature, but he made it as neat as possible. He was pleasantly surprised to find it much neater than usual. The pen and card were slid back to Techno and signed again. Once that was done, the card was slid back to Tommy.

“I’ll put you in the system now, but you can scan the card and be on your way.” Tommy stuck the card underneath the card reader. It beeped and he pulled it away, putting it in his wallet. “Do you want a receipt?”

“No thanks.”

“Alright then. Well, I’ll see you later, Tommy. ‘Ave a good day.”

“You too, Big T!” he answered, smiling brightly. “Bye Wil!” And with that, he was out the door within seconds, and down the street shortly after.

He really needed to get home because he’d spent a few extra minutes at the library getting that card. He didn’t think Mother would be home by now, but he could never be completely sure. Tommy would rather be out of breath and tired when he got home rather than being with an upset Mother. The latter would definitely end up with him regretting more.

When he had first gotten his library card, Tommy should have checked how long he could have a book before having to return it.

But he didn’t.

And he didn’t ask after the first late book, or the second, or the third. But hey! None of them were ever his fault! (Well, they were, but he didn’t like thinking about that.) The first one was because Ranboo somehow convinced him to hang out again, and that day happened to be the day Tommy was planning on returning his book. The second and third ones were because he had to go grocery shopping for Mother, and it wasn’t like he could put that off. They needed groceries and he didn’t want to get in trouble with her, so groceries were top priority. It’d be rude of him to ask Mother to do it instead. It was his job, not hers.

He didn’t remember what happened with the fourth one, nor did he particularly want to remember. Tommy already felt bad enough.

This was the fifth one, and he knew there was no way he would be let off the hook again. He was confident in his suspicions, he just didn’t know what was going to go wrong. Tommy could only hope for the best.

It had been a pretty average Saturday afternoon in the Innit household. Tommy was holed up alone in his room playing some random game on his phone while he let music flow through the headphones connected to the Sony Walkman lying beside him. Mother had left three minutes ago with directions to Tommy simply being: make dinner.

Typically, Mother would stay later at work and eat the provided food there. Then she’d come home with work. Typically. On Saturday, not very many people came in, since a lot of them were getting over hangovers from the night before, and Mother didn’t have work on Sunday.

Tommy had made dinner plenty of times for the two of them, so he knew just what she liked. He knew that she’d had a rough week, so he had decided to cook up one of her favorite dishes. He’d either make bangers and mash or a steak pie; it all depended on what groceries they had in the house. He made a note to go shopping the next day.

After a bit, he decided on some bangers and mash as it was easier. Tommy took out some sausages from the freezer—he had no idea how long they’d been in there—and set them out on the counter so he could get the other things out. Once he was sure he had most of his material out, he shoved the sausages into the microwave and put it on for thirty seconds. The time in the microwave would thaw the meat enough to be cooked properly.

Knowing that he could do what he wanted for a bit, now that the meat was ready to be cooked whenever and Mother wouldn't be back for another four hours, Tommy decided to go to the park. Maybe he’d go where he often saw dogs being walked, so then there was the possibility of an owner letting him pet their dog.

It took barely a second for him to decide that was a beautiful idea. It didn’t take him much time to get ready, and as a last-minute thought, he grabbed the grocery list and some money and left the house. He didn’t bother trying to lock the door like he typically did before school. He wanted to go to the park and didn’t want to wait any longer.

Tommy was out for about an hour at the park—maybe an hour and a half—before he headed to the Tesco nearby to go shopping. That took about an hour and a half, too. Afterwards, he went home to put away the groceries and start back up on dinner.

Making dinner went on as it usually did. No noise besides what Tommy tried to make—and hell, he tried . If they had a portable speaker, he’d play music, but they didn’t. If he had someone he could drag to his house for help, he would, but there was no one (it wasn’t allowed by Mother anyway). So, the best Tommy could do to make the house feel less lonely while making dinner for two, one of which wouldn’t even be eating with him was “accidentally” banging the pots together and bumping into the counter. The list could go on. Sure, this… method took longer, but he managed and the sausage was cooking pretty quickly.

Knowing that it would still be a while before the sausages were done, Tommy started on the mashed potatoes. He had seen a bag of about three potatoes sitting on the pantry floor. They were probably leftovers from when he had made lots of potato salad for a get-together Mother had—that he hadn’t been invited to—with some old schoolmates. He remembered her ranting about how stupid they all were once she got home. She obviously had not wanted to be there (so why go?).

He took one look at the potatoes once he had them out of the bag and grimaced. He could see that some of the potato eyes were starting to grow out, and there were small bad spots on them, too. Sighing, he resigned himself to making the potatoes anyway. It wouldn’t be bangers and mash without the mash. He’d try his best to cut out the bad spots and everything. They were sure to be fine! (Hopefully…)

After the potatoes came the gravy. Gravy could go wrong very easily, but Mother had taught Tommy well. He knew how to do it. A little cornstarch, some milk, a bit of that… some of that… and you were done! Easy as pie.

Green beans were next. They were pretty easy to make since they came frozen in a bag, it even had directions on it. Tommy could just pop them in the microwave, in the same bag they’d come in, and put it on for the designated amount of time. Then they were done. Surprisingly, they tasted really good, and with some butter and salt, even better.

Having to use the bathroom, Tommy glanced at the timer set on the counter. The built-in one on the stove was broken when he and Mother moved into the house.

Four minutes and eleven seconds.

He had plenty of time to use the bathroom if he rushed.

In his head, he imagined him tightening the bandana on his head. Of course, the scene would cut to him running as fast as Sonic with a yellow glare-star-thingy shining over his eye.

Shaking his thoughts away, Tommy jogged across the house and to the bathroom.

He heard the timer ding from the bathroom and he quickly finished up his business and went back to the kitchen. (Of course, he washed his hands!)

The timer was clicked off to stop the ringing and he went to the oven and opened it. Heat poured out and enveloped Tommy in a way that wasn’t soft and warm like a hug. It was overpowering and it seemed like it was choking him, making it hard to breathe. As quickly as he could, he reached into the oven and took the pan into his hands, completely disregarding the fact he had no protection between the burning metal and his fragile skin.

He screamed.

 Tommy bounced around the kitchen before remembering that he needed to get to the sink. With fast breaths, he somehow managed to get to the sink and switch on the cold water. It felt even worse than the initial burn as it began to settle in and he couldn’t hold back his loud curses, whines, and crying. If only someone was there to comf-

As the water ran over his hand, Tommy let himself slump against the counter, weak whimpers still left his mouth but his vocal cords couldn’t take anymore. He had to compose himself, patch himself up, and get the sausages out of the oven.

After another few minutes, he felt less nauseous (barely) and thought he’d be able to make it to the bathroom where the antibiotics and bandages were.

He wasn’t sure band-aids would cut it, with all the flaring red marks burned on his skin. He could now see that the metal had stuck to his skin and when he pulled his hands away, it peeled away his skin. Blood drenched his hands even after he had rinsed them. Tommy feared that he wouldn't be able to open cabinets to get to the medical gear.

He glanced around the bathroom feverishly before deciding to run his hand under the faucet again. His muddled mind could barely think, let alone come up with a decision. He didn’t want any blood to drip onto the white cabinets mostly, but it did make his hands feel better. For a few minutes.

Tears still streamed down his face and blurred his vision, and sobs had managed to work their way up again. (He was strong! Tommy Innit was strong- He was st- He had to be stro-) Through the pain, blood, tears, and heaving, he had managed to wrap a ragged towel around his hand and open a cabinet. With his unwrapped left hand, he dragged the first-aid kit out of the cabinet and to the floor.

He couldn’t stand up any longer, he could barely feel his legs and they fell out from underneath him. There was nothing he could do but try his best. There was no going to the hospital or calling for help. There was just him and he had to do this himself.

His left hand was in ten times more pain than the right, yet, he continued to do everything with it; determined to get this done. He’d rather it be that way so his right hand could heal sooner and he would be able to write. His left meant less to him anyway (apparently, Dad was a lefty-) so it didn’t matter.

It felt like his fingers were seconds from falling off but somehow numb at the same time, and he could barely feel as he rooted through the box for the gauze and antibiotics. Tommy knew that putting the antibiotics on his hands would feel worse than going to hell, but he also knew the consequences if he didn’t. He had to do it.

The antibiotics tube and gauze were found, and he wrapped a towel around his left hand so that he could hold the bottle to unscrew the cap. He was beginning to hiccup from all the sobbing, making it even harder for his eyes to focus. He made one quick turn of the cap to keep the pain that flared through his whole arm as short as possible.

Tommy smeared the ointment across his hands like lotion, desperately trying not to push too hard or rub too fast. It still felt like he was dying. The gauze he had gotten out was loose and non-sticky; he’d pin it to itself to stay in place with a safety pin or something. As he wrapped each of his hands up, he thought of all the possibilities for what could happen once Mother came home.

She might see the bandages wrapped around his hands, wonder what had happened, and patch him up better once she knew. Or; she might not even see Tommy once she was home and never end up caring. Or; she could see him and see the bandages and scold him for being dumb.

He didn’t want to think of the possibilities anymore.

Now that the gauze was wrapped around his aching hands, they began to feel a bit better. Not by much, but now that less air was getting at his hands, they stung less. Who knew how long the blisters, scabs, and bleeding would last. Tommy would probably have to change the gauze before he went to bed so that it didn’t bleed through and onto his sheets. He’d also have to be super careful to not roll over onto his hands in his sleep. That would hurt. A lot.

Tears still fell from his eyes, and he still hiccupped, but he had to get those sausages out of the oven. The oven that he had left wide open. He could still hear the sink in the kitchen running too; they were gonna have a high bill this month. He hoped Mother wouldn’t find out it was because of his stupidity.

Slowly, he put the medkit back together—leaving the gauze out—and slid it back into the cabinet.

As he stood on his shaky legs, he desperately wanted to grab something to pull himself up, but couldn’t because of his hands. Tommy had to put as little pressure on them as possible to make them hurt less.

He hobbled into the kitchen, making sure to pick up two hot pads before pulling the sausages out of the oven and setting them on the hob. He felt out of breath from just doing that, so he couldn’t imagine what it would be like trying to do other things. Shutting the oven, he slumped against the counter by the sink and shut the water off with his elbow. Tommy rested his head against the cool counter. It felt like the rest of his body was burning up, too, not just his hands.

Sighing, he dragged himself over to the other side of the kitchen to pull an ice pack out of the freezer. Wrapping it in a paper towel, he laid it against his forehead. The coolness was welcome and he breathed out a sigh of relief even as he hiccupped again. He still needed to finish dinner.

Tommy took out two plates from one of the upper cabinets (stretching his arms up hurt so much-) and laid out the mashed potatoes in the center of each of them. Even if he was injured a sort of big-ish amount, and he was only making the food for him and Mother, he had been taught to present well even in the smallest company. Never falter and never show weakness. It was the Innit way.

Then he put on two sausages on top of the potatoes and poured the gravy over them. He delicately spooned out green beans over the plate. Tears fell into one of the plates after pain flashed through his hands randomly. Tommy decided that was going to be his plate. (Mother’s plate shan't be tainted by his pointless tears.)

Once the plates were finished, he set Mother’s on the counter by the fridge, where he usually put it and put a cover over it. He took his own plate and brought it to his room with him.

The walk to his room was less of a walk and more of a trudge. Tommy felt incredibly lethargic and tired now, the adrenaline he had throughout the past hour (had it only been an hour?) had since drained out of his body and left him bone-dry. He wanted to sleep right there on the steps. But he couldn’t.

Tommy knew that he didn’t feel hungry because his senses were scattered and registering his pain, not bodily needs. But he also knew that if he didn’t eat and instead went to sleep, he would wake up in even more pain than he was in now.

So, he staggered up the steps with one hand carrying his food and the other gripped the railing and gauze. If he dropped the gauze, he’d give up on it as it had taken him years to get up the stairs. There was no going back once he was at the top.

He sat against his bed with a water bottle he had stashed in his room to the left of him, and his plate in his lap. Taking one sip of his water felt like paradise to his parched throat, and he downed the rest of the bottle in under a minute. Tommy hadn’t even realized that he had been that thirsty, but vowed to remind himself to drink water often; you need to stay hydrated when hurt.

Tommy ate slowly to not overrun his system and because he couldn’t eat any faster in his current state. He was drained and in pain and burning inside and out, and he still had the hiccups. Overall, a terrible mix. He could barely enjoy his food knowing that he had cried into it, burned himself in the process of making it, and all the rest. Forgetting this whole day would be a blessing, but he knew that wouldn’t happen.

He finally finished his food and stuck his plate on his dresser. He’d bring it down and wash it later. Right now, he needed to sleep, but he also needed to redress his burn.

Wincing, he pulled off the wrappings and gazed down at the mangled mess that was his hands. There wasn’t much he could do, but he wiped softly at the blood with some paper towels he had in his room. They were rough and seemed to make it bleed more, so Tommy quickly stopped.

The burns were shiny and white, with yellow in the middle and red along the edges. Tommy had been burnt before, mostly when he was just learning how to use the stove (he taught himself mostly, but Mother did show him some stuff), and none of the burns had ever looked like… that .

He told himself not to worry, knowing that the burns would heal, and maybe there’d be a scar, but nothing that Tommy couldn’t deal with.

It looked like something he could pop. Like a pimple, but like, at a two times bigger and grosser and more explosive scale. He lightly poked at it and almost screamed. Okay, bad idea, definitely not recommended. Once again, tears sprang to his eyes. He held his face away from his hands to not let any of the salty drops fall onto his burns. Like grass, dew seemed to be present, and when he had poked at it earlier, the tip of his finger felt like he’d sweat or something.

After a short examination of his hands, Tommy decided to wrap his hands back up because the air was starting to make them feel worse again. He had let them air out for a bit, but it was time to cover them again. It hurt too much to leave them out any longer.

With his burn wrapped, and the pain still present, Tommy carefully slid underneath his thin quilt and sheet. Sleep came quickly and was welcomed, but the thoughts and dreams that plagued his mind throughout the night hindered any rest he could have gotten.

His sleeves—hopefully—covered his wrapped hands. Tommy had continued to change his gauze and occasionally put on more antibiotics as the days passed. So far, it had been three days.

Through school, he avoided raising his hand and stayed even farther away from people than usual. He denied each of Ranboo’s requests to hang out or eat lunch with him. (He especially tried to avoid him.) Lunch was spent in solitude in the locker room. Though, he was surprised to find that Ranboo never tried to surprise-join him.

Mother had yet to see his hands.

Tommy could barely ball up fists with the amount of pain that had arisen in his hands. It hurt to hold a pencil, making schoolwork a struggle—impossible, really. He hadn’t visited the library once since the burn, and originally planned for that to continue, but then he had remembered the book he’d checked out and was almost certainly late.

With all the extra time Tommy had from not going around town and whatnot, he read and had finished the book the previous day.

Today, he’d quickly stop in the library, return the book, and leave. He knew he’d be bothered about why he hadn’t been around—Wilbur was just like that—and he had a plan for that. Sort of. Look, he wouldn’t explain. It was whatever. He’d improvise or something.

Rapidly, he glanced around the library and didn’t see Technoblade, Wilbur, or Niki. Where were they? The rest of the library seemed pretty empty too? Where was everyone? Was the library closed? His fists began to close but stopped with a flash of pain. Tommy sucked in a breath. It felt like he was getting worse by the step towards the desk.

When he reached the front desk and no one popped out from the mysterious doorway a minute after he had stopped walking, he reached across the counter and lightly tapped the bell. Within a minute, a blur came out of the doorway and stopped in front of him.

It was that blond that Tommy had seen but never interacted with.

Balls.

“Hello, mate!” the man exclaimed. “I’m Phil. You’re Tommy, right?” Tommy nodded mechanically. He scrunched his nose and blinked a long blink. Ugh… a headache was definitely coming on. Maybe a migraine? “So… what do you need?”

Oh. He needed to respond, didn’t he?

“I- uh- I’m here to return a book. I think it’s late,” Tommy stopped, and continued again, unsure of himself. “Although it might not be. I don’t really know, but I just didn’t want it to be later than it already was—if it is late, that is.

“I-it’s in my bag. One moment.”

Tommy squatted down, pulling his bag off his back and grabbing the book. It wasn’t necessary to be on the floor doing this, but there was less of a chance that someone saw his hands this way, and it would be hard, with his current injuries, to hold the bag up and look through it.

“You’re okay… by the way. It’s alright if the book is late! That can easily be cleared up, I swear. Don’t worry.” Tommy didn’t answer him.

Once he had the book in his hands, he stood back up and quickly slid it onto the table. His hands swung down to his sides again.

“Thank you!” Phil exclaimed, looking kinda nervous, himself. He did some strange scanning or whatever of the book. “Oh, by the way, the book wasn’t late. You’re good by a few days. I know that Wil and Techno were the ones who got you your library card and stuff, so I’ll have to have a talk to them about remembering to tell customers how long they can have books out before they’re late.”

Tommy rapidly shook his head, shaking his hands, too. “NO, no… They’re fine, it wasn’t their fault. I never asked, anyway,” he laughed hesitantly, not sure if the timing was right. “Don’t bother getting them in trouble, it's fine, I swear.”

Phil’s eyebrow rose. “Okay… whatever you say.” He glanced down. “Um, by the way… I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but it looks like your… uh… hands are bleeding. T-through the bandages on them. You might want to get that checked out…”

How. How. How. How. How. How. How. How. How. How. How. How. How did he know. How did- not notice. Where- huh? What did you say? Where are- I can’t hear you! WHERE ARE WE.

Eyes flickered all around—WHERE—never stopping for a moment until they landed—ARE—on the reddest thing around. Hands. Why were their hands? They weren’t supposed to be there. Not there. Anywhere but there. Gone- burned. I CAN’T HEAR YOU.

Eyes flickered all around, never stopping for a moment until they landed on something pink and yellow and green and—where was he?

“TOMMY!”

Chapter Text

“He just shut down…” Phil murmured, practically traumatized by what just happened less than ten minutes ago.

Now, Phil and his sons sat in a hospital waiting room. Unsure of how to help Tommy beyond bringing him to a hospital. There were no clues as to who his parents were, so they couldn’t contact them and could only hope for the best.

“Like… how?” Wilbur wondered softly.

“Like- like how you and Techno sometimes dissociate… It was nothing like what either of you have ever done though. Yours are scary, but never like that.”

The two hated talking about it—although Techno was more open about it than Wilbur—and Phil hated bringing it up, but there were more prominent issues at the moment. They didn’t seem to mind too much right now anyway.

Somehow, within the far-and-few-between moments that Phil had talked to Tommy, he had become attached to him, the same way both of his children and their friends had. It was contagious.

They were silent for a bit before Techno spoke up for practically the first time since they had arrived at the hospital. His sunglasses glinted off of the overhead light. He wore them because of the insanely bright lights and white reflective surfaces all hospitals had. It hurt his eyes, and at this point, Phil was honestly thinking of getting himself some.

“I hope he’s okay… but mostly, I wanna know what ‘appened,” Techno said. “I’m sure it was an accident, but by now, I’d have expected his parents to know and have treated it as well as they could. I doubt this would’ve ‘appened if they had brought him to the hospital or tried to treat it themselves—the marks, I mean.”

“What even is it?” Wilbur questioned. “We still don’t know, and it’s in a pretty weird spot.”

Phil nodded to this, about to begin his next sentence, but was interrupted by a nurse asking for them. The three rose quickly, wanting to know whatever she had to say as soon as possible, and hoping for the best.

“Are you… Philza Minecraft—the one who brought Tommy Innit in?” she asked, a clipboard in her hands and her eyebrows drawn together.

“Yes,” he breathed instantly.

“Alright, if you’ll just sign here… and follow me, we can talk about his current state.”

He scrawled a messy signature, wanting to hear about Tommy as soon as possible. Through the stories he’s heard and the meager conversation he had with Tommy, he had become attached. Maybe Techno and Wilbur were just that good of storytellers. (Techno was an English major.)

The nurse beckoned them down the hall after the clipboard was signed, and they silently followed through all the twists and turns. Finally, they stopped in front of a closed, white door, just like every other one. She held her hand out to stop them from entering the room.

“Sorry,” she said, smiling apologetically. “You can’t go in there quite yet, but should be able to once we’re done out here.”

Sighing, the three resigned themselves to their fate. A talk with this nurse that could take half an hour. Doctors and nurses were always so annoying to deal with.

“Alright. Can you get started then?” Phil didn’t mean to sound irritated, but he was certain this nurse was used to it. He was sure the girl was lovely, but at that moment, he desperately wanted to strangle her for keeping them from Tommy.

“Of course.” Her expression soured. It was time to get serious. “Tommy has a severe second-degree burn on his hands. We don’t know how he got it but hand burns are always worse than one, say, on your arm. Not to mention that it’s been sitting poorly for at least a couple of days. Not long, but long enough to cause issues.

“Issues like infection.”

Phil sucked in a nervous breath.

“Can we please know if he’s okay right now!?” Wilbur exclaimed, fed up with the current discussion and walking around the situation.

The nurse—Ash (Phil glanced at her name tag)—sighed. “Sorry, sorry! Right, he’s stable.

“Anyway, his burns are infected and on his hands, making them even worse. If you didn’t know what a second-degree burn is, it penetrates the dermis—the first layer of skin—and the epidermis—the second layer of skin. He should’ve come in the same day it happened to get it treated, but obviously, he didn’t.

“The doctor cleaned up his burns and will give him some antibiotic cream to apply every morning and every night before he goes to bed. The cream should help the swelling, blistering, bleeding, and general pain. He can also put his hands in cool water—never cold, that can damage tissue—to help with any pain, as well.

“Speaking of which, his tissue underneath parts of his burns has been damaged. Lightly, but damaged. Rest should help, but that’s about all we can do about it.”

“Is that all?” Techno murmured quietly. The news seemed to have set into all of their minds and their gears had begun to turn.

Once more, nurse Ash sighed, “Almost. His hands will definitely scar. There’s not much we can do, right now, about that. A skin graft is possible later on if things worsen or if the scars affect his function, et cetera.

“Overall, he needs to continue to keep the burns covered as much as possible, not pick or mess with them, and take pain medication as needed. Ibuprofen or something similar should work just fine.”

“Thank you, nurse Ash,” Phil began. “Now, what about when we brought him in? What was… happening there?”

“Ah… well, I really shouldn’t, but in my personal, non-professional opinion—I’m not very professional anyway; I don’t even know how I got this job, man—I’d say he was heavily dissociating or something similar. Now, there are quite a few different diagnosable dissociative disorders, which are usually because of trauma… so I’d say that’s something. Please don’t tell one of my higher-ups I told you guys that, though! I’m really not supposed to, but you seem like you wouldn’t do that…”

“No, no! Don’t worry about that, that was actually really helpful, thank you.”

“By the way, there’s no way to contact his parents currently. He’s awake now, but his phone died and he didn’t have their numbers memorized. I also really shouldn't be doing this, but you guys have got to bring him home. I don’t want him to have to stay here overnight if his parents work late or something!”

“We can work something out.”

“Can we see him now?” Wilbur blurted.

Phil glanced behind himself, looking at his sons with warm but down-cast eyes. These boys cared so much for Tommy and just wanted to see him, yet they had to be put through the talking. He gave the nurse a pleading look. If not for him, for his sons.

She smiled softly. “Yes, you can go on in. He’s up now, and the doctor will come in the room in a few minutes to give him the antibiotics. After that, you can—secretly—bring him home.” Ash gave them a wink and walked away.

The three glanced around at each other. They almost didn’t want to go in the room because they didn’t know what to expect. The state Tommy was in could ruin them. Technoblade made the first move, reaching for the door handle, Phil’s hand settled on top of his as it was put on the knob. A move he hoped was comforting as the door handle was turned and the door swung inward.

Tommy was sitting up on the bed, looking about as angry at the world as usual. His patch-covered jacket hung over a chair nearby, and he looked relatively cold. This would probably be the first time his boys had seen Tommy without a jacket on, now that he thought about it.

He looked up at the three entering the room before breaking eye contact and looking back at his lap. His hands lay hidden from view, underneath the light sheet on the bed.

“Hey, Tommy,” Wilbur breathed, sitting in the chair closest to the hospital bed. Techno had taken the only other chair after offering it to Phil silently. Just as silently, Phil had declined in favor of leaning against the wall beside the chair.

The blond grunted in response.

“How you doin’, kid?” Techno grumbled.

It seemed that matching Tommy’s enthusiasm and “insulting” him seemed to do the trick.

“’M not a kid!” Tommy rasped.

Techno’s eyebrow perked up. “Ya need some water?”

Hesitantly, Tommy nodded. He was tossed a water bottle and brought his bandaged hands out from underneath the blanket to catch it. It didn’t happen; Wilbur caught it instead, giving him a look.

“You shouldn’t be trying to catch things right now, Tommy. And you—” He directed this to Techno, who had thrown the bottle. “—shouldn’t encourage it.”

“What a mom…” Techno mumbled under his breath.

“You’re an arse!” Tommy exclaimed.

“I HEARD BOTH OF YOU!” Wilbur roared.

Phil wondered how they hadn’t gotten kicked out of the hospital yet.

“Wil, shut up for a moment, will you?” he snapped.

They went silent.

And that’s how you parent properly-

“So when am I going home?” Tommy asked huffily. For as timid the boys had told him Tommy was sometimes, and from what he had seen, the kid had an attitude. “I want to go home.”

“Well… here’s the thing-”

“I better be able to go home. I am not staying any longer. I’ll sneak out if necessary!”

“Hey… chill out,” Wilbur said, setting a hand on his arm.

Tommy bristled under his touch and shrugged his hand off, Wilbur let it fall to hang beside him. Neither said anything, though.

Phil sighed, “Let me start that again. You can go home.” Tommy hissed out a “yes” under his breath. “Buttt—” Tommy hissed out a “no” under his breath. “—we’re bringing you home. We can leave after the doctor comes in to get you your antibiotics or whatever, and you get your stuff ready.”

“Why do I have to go home with you?” he complained. “I barely know you people.”

“Are your parents gonna come pick you up?” Wilbur sneered.

Tommy’s face became twisted with hurt.

“WILBUR!” Techno exclaimed. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Wilbur seemed to finally realize what he said. “Tommy- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

The blond scowled. “Don’t apologize, I don’t deserve it. Can I please just go home?”

Phil opened his mouth, but before he could reassure Tommy that he did in fact deserve an apology—should expect one, in fact—from Wilbur, the doctor chose that moment to barge in.

“Hello boys!” he exclaimed cheerfully. Clearly, he was bad at reading the room. “I hope your day has been well, although, I know it hasn’t been too great these past…” He glanced at his watch. “3-ish hours.”

The doctor was an older man, probably in his 50s, with glasses and graying hair. The tie peeking out from underneath his lab coat had geometrical shapes in bright colors, and his name tag read “Dr. Orin.”

“Good evening, Dr. Orin,” Phil greeted politely, knowing that the others, with their pent-up anger, would be anything but polite to the poor doctor.

“You must be Philza! I hear you run the library downtown, is that right?”

“Yeah…” He laughed hesitantly. “I do.”

The doctor nodded thoughtfully. He certainly didn’t care one cent about Philza or the library he ran, simply trying to get a good review on Yelp, Phil imagined.

“Well, Mr. Innit, here’s your antibiotic cream.” Although this seemed to be directed at Tommy, it was plain to see that he wasn’t actually speaking to him at all. Wilbur was handed the cream. “Most of the infection has been cleared out, but just in case… Over-the-counter Neosporin should work similarly to this stuff if you run out. Apply it twice a day—once you wake up and once before you go to bed—and the burns should heal in a couple of weeks. If you have any questions, you can go to our small clinic on Hypixel Drive. Someone there should be able to help you.”

“Er- Thanks… Dr. Orin…” Tommy acknowledged slowly.

Dr. Orin laughed softly. “Of course! I hope you boys have a lovely night!”

With a flourish and a wave, Dr. Orin was out the door and down the hall, seemingly having other patients to tend to and exploit.

“Can we go home now?” Techno pleaded, looking at Phil with a look that surely meant that he was done with his brother and Tommy’s arguing and wanted to spend the rest of the night listening to polar bear documentaries in the solitude of his room.

“Mhm. Techno, can you help Tommy up?” he asked, not wanting to get the other two any more angry at each other than they already were. He had a feeling making Wilbur help Tommy would be a bad idea.

“I don’t need any help,” Tommy groaned, kicking his sheets off his legs. “I can get up—and walk—by myself! My legs didn’t get injured—‘member?”

Sighing, Phil sent looks to his sons to back off. If Tommy wanted to do this himself, he would, until he needed help. Unwilling or not, the two remained still as they watched Tommy stand.

He was a little shaky, but with the last time he had stood on his own having been right before he broke down, it made sense. He quickly stabilized himself on Technoblade’s shoulder (Phil could see the want to help in the boy’s eyes, but was impressed to see him barely twitch towards Tommy), and stood upright without any help. With a prideful smirk, Tommy stared at Phil for a few moments, seeming to want Phil to see that he wasn’t as helpless as he “thought”, but Phil had never thought of Tommy as helpless. He had just wanted the boy to be safe.

They left the hospital silently, and he hoped it’d stay that way. Ultimately, he was certain it wouldn’t, because there was always that debate about who sat in the front of the car. He waited for the cries of “SHOTGUN!” to be heard, but none came, and when they got to the car, Techno and Wilbur both scooted to the back.

Now, for Techno, this was normal. Wilbur was taller than him and therefore had longer legs and needed more leg space, but he was also incredibly whiny and would complain each time he was forced into the back. Technoblade genuinely liked sitting in the back because he felt that his motion sickness affected him less when he sat in the back. Generally, he just felt more comfortable in the back, and Phil was happy to provide if it meant both his sons would be happy and not be complaining.

The fact that they had left the front to Tommy, though, surprised him. Wilbur would, typically, feel even more strongly that he should sit in the front if the competition was a child. But Phil wasn’t arguing.

It seemed that Tommy was equally confused, as he glanced around with a twisted frown and pulled-together eyebrows.

Lightly, Wilbur nudged him closer to the passenger seat’s door and opened it for him. Tommy whipped his head back to glare at Wilbur but quickly got into the car. With a crooked smile on his mouth, Phil sat in his own seat, and looked around the car, making sure everyone was buckled.

It was reflex at this point. A reflex that stemmed from the car crash he had gotten in when he was in college. Apparently, it wasn’t a good idea to go driving in the middle of the night with some buddies from college who were just running on 5-hour energies and coffee. Then again, he was dumb then and was also running on 5-hour energies and coffee. None of them—except for the driver, Phil recalled—had bothered putting on their seatbelts because they were just driving to the gas station a few blocks away, and they had done it before and been fine. So why should it matter? Exactly! It shouldn’t.

That was not what Phil thought now, and he was glad to have changed his mindset because those hospital bills had some steep prices, especially for a broke college student who had been forced into paying for it all himself because his parents were done with his stupidity. Honestly, a terrible parenting style, but an effective life lesson.

His boys knew the story by heart by now, so Philza wouldn’t bother trying anything like that with them. He doubted that they’d do anything that stupid for a while. At least while he’s still paying for their things. He’d make them wait another few years before they tried any motorcycle stunts.

“Everyone buckled?” he wondered, already knowing the answer as he had heard all of their buckles click into place beforehand.

“Yes, Phil,” chimed the twins, the same response from Tommy came seconds after.

He smiled softly and turned around so that he was facing forward again. Moments before he started moving, Phil remembered he had no clue where Tommy lived.

“Uh-” he stammered, turning to the blond beside him. Tommy had leaned his head against the window, and his eyes were half-lidded and droopy. The kid needed some sleep, that was for sure. “I don’t know where you live, mate.”

His eyes widened a bit, and he sat up a bit straighter. “I- I… Just drop me off at 420 Jubilee Avenue. That’s my street, but I don’t want m’ neighbors tattlin’ to Mother that I got out of a sus car. That sounds like something that hag would do,” he answered. His… vocabulary seemed… extensively filled with… good words.

“Fair enough,” Wilbur commented from the back.

“Wil!” Phil exclaimed. “Don’t encourage him!”

Wilbur stuck his tongue out at Phil through the mirror and hooded his eyes with a cheeky grin. This child. Why did I adopt him?

“Yeah, Wil…” Techno murmured, just to antagonize. Phil could tell he was seconds from passing out; today had been a long day.

He sighed, “Sure, sure. Whatever you want, Toms…” Where did that nickname come from? “Just be sure to put that stuff on your hands and get some sleep.”

With that, he drove off with the directions of the GPS guiding him. Maybe he’d have Techno do it to save his phone’s battery power if his son wasn’t so tired as well.

Mostly, he just hoped Tommy would be alright, and that was about all that was on his mind.

Chapter Text

Well. That was traumatic. Ummmm… yeah, Tommy’s never going back to the library. Thank goodness he returned his book before.

The car ride was pretty comfortable. It was quiet; Tommy appreciated that. He had a headache, and the silence blessed his aching ears. The car was nice and dark, too, as expected for an evening drive, but the bright lights and whiteness of the hospital ( shudder ) had hurt his eyes.

It was bad enough he had to tell Phil the street he lived on, but he was glad that his brain was working well enough to not say exactly which house was his. That could only end badly. His neighbors were known to be tattle-tellers. He didn’t trust them an ounce not to tell Mother that strangers had dropped him off.

What was really stress-inducing was the walk from where he was dropped off to his house.

His neighborhood had never been particularly safe—it definitely wasn’t the good part of town—and it was even worse at night, as most are. His neighbors on the left were the ones who would tell on him. They’d rat anyone out if it meant having their “status” or whatever raised. On the right, his neighbors were most certainly drug dealers or something of that ilk. If he ever had his window open in his room, he was able to smell the putrid weed, and his room was on the opposite side of the house! The houses along the rest of the block belonged to an assortment of people Tommy had never even seen before, much less spoken to, and he was almost certain a couple of them belonged to one of the local gangs—Pogtopia.

The comings and goings of his neighborhood were not things that Tommy kept up on. He didn’t want to, and what he knew was only necessary to be able to survive walking down the street. Luckily, he was pretty sure that he had saved a member of Pogtopia’s dog from getting run over a year or two ago, so he was pretty sure he was in the gang’s good graces.

Now, he just had to worry about whatever drunks, high people, idiots, and/or criminals roamed the streets. How lovely!

The night seemed pretty quiet, despite it all. So Tommy’s slow, unsteady walk home was quiet; he made his way there and inside without issue—surprisingly. Now, you may wonder why his legs were all wobbly when he most definitely did not hurt them in the slightest. WELL, WHEN YOU LITERALLY LIKE DIE OR SOMETHING AT A LIBRARY, AND WERE LAYING IN A HOSPITAL BED, AND HAVE AN, OVERALL, HORRIBLE DAY. IT JUST HAPPENS.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he entered the quiet house. Tommy knew Mother wasn’t going to be home, but still, he worried. He pressed his weight against the door to close it and let himself slide down to the floor. Seconds from pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes, he paused and set his hands beside him. Can’t do that. With a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut and blinked them back open.

His stomach rumbled. Right. He hadn’t eaten anything for, like, half a day. Another sigh. Tommy carefully stood and dragged his way up to his room to put down his bag and take his shoes off. He desperately wanted to use his hands, but alas, he was told to use his hands as little as possible, and if there was one thing Tommy could do without fail, it was follow directions.

On unsteady feet and leaning most of his body weight onto the wall beside his door, he pushed his shoes off one by one with the other foot. He dropped his backpack onto his bed and went back downstairs. Tommy knew he needed to eat something, but he also knew that making something for both Mother and him would be impossible tonight. Glancing around the kitchen, he decided that he’d take his chances. Maybe if he passed out as soon as he was done eating, Mother would leave him be.

When was the last time he went against something Mother had asked of him?

From the pantry, he took out some crackers, and from the fridge he got out some cheese. Cheese and crackers was all he felt well enough to put together, and it was easy enough to eat. Throwing a few slices of cheese and a sleeve of crackers onto a plate, Tommy put the stuff away and carried his food up to his room.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.

How long had it been since that night? How long had it been since he had gone to the library?

Frankly, Tommy didn’t remember, but it was roughly the same amount of time.

The only reason he hadn’t been going was because L’manburg Community Library had caused only problems for him (and also all the trauma the place had left him with). He had been eating lunch with Ranboo, though, so he wasn’t completely back to the usual.

Now, though, he was going back to the library. It had been at least a week and a half since his last visit and That Night. The only reason that he was going there was because of this dumb group project he had to do for composition. Ms. Pain really had it out for him, it seemed.

Tommy had no clue who it was he was working with, either. He had completely spaced out during class and didn’t hear who he was partnered with; he was only stirred from his mindless daydreaming when he heard quiet, muffled laughs across the classroom after his name had been said.

All of this had happened at the end of class and they had a total of five minutes left of the period to to discuss with their partner about what they wanted to do and where they wanted to do it. He was thankful that the boy that appeared to be his partner came to him, because otherwise, he would’ve been wandering embarrassingly around the classroom.

Tommy didn’t recognize the boy, although he was certain that he had probably been in his class for several years. He had fluffy brown hair and eyes that seemed to shift between shades. His eyes were wide and innocent—too innocent for a high school student—and he was relatively short.

Quick greetings were exchanged between them, and Tommy quickly took charge of the conversation. It had been ages since he had been to take charge of something, but Tubbo—that was his name (kinda weird, innit?)—seemed to be perfectly okay with him taking over. Even if he messed up. Tubbo had readily agreed to Tommy’s offer of doing it at the library, saying something about how his parents were typically out of town and didn’t like people coming over when they weren’t home.

It was now that he regretted saying anything. He regretted taking the lead. He regretted suggesting the library, mostly.

Because he could feel eyes on him, and he knew whose eyes they were. A certain pair of twins, for sure, and possibly a pink-haired girl’s and an old man’s. Oh, man, that sounded a lot more creepy now that he thought about it.

Tommy tried to ignore this thought to get through the much-too-slow walk from the front door to the table in the corner, where he usually sat.

Tubbo seemed to buzz with hyperactivity. It was clear he had never been in the L’Manburg Community Library before. Once they were seated, the brunet seemed to calm down a bit, taking a folder from his leather backpack. It was covered in stickers of… bombs?

Now. This was. Concerning.

It was just his luck to end up doing a project with a psychopath.

“Uh…” Tommy began, but why had he started talking in the first place? What was he supposed to say? “Nice—uh—bombs.”

He could just feel the gazes on him sharpen. He winced. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say… 

“Thanks!” Tubbo exclaimed. The brunet started taking an assortment of papers out of the folder and spreading them across the table. Tommy realized that he should probably be doing something too, to at least make it look like he was being productive.

With careful hands—they still hurt occasionally, and they ached each time Tommy looked at them—he opened his backpack and pulled out the crumpled paper that explained the project. Y’know. The one that had been directly read to the class, but Tommy hadn’t paid attention to at all. Yeah, that one. After trying to smooth it out with his arm for a good minute, he gave up, sensing that there was no hope. He should really see if he could invest in some folders (see: find some) to keep his papers neat and straight. Along with that, he opened the smallest pocket of his bag and took out his pencil and pink highlighter.

A perfectly manly thing to have.

Tommy liked to highlight the important information in the directions of any project. The requirements, mainly. The paragraphs and paragraphs of needless information confused Tommy sometimes, and the words were too small for him to read. It was easier to highlight the important things and ignore the rest.

As he scanned through the three paragraphs of instructions, he highlighted as he went, and Tubbo watched him. Just another look added to the many that already seemed to interrupt his existence. Just as he was most of the way done with the last paragraph, Tubbo cleared his throat.

“What are you doing?”

He blinked in surprise.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Tommy replied with a bitter voice. “I’m reading.”

“Can you read it to me?”

“Why would I do that? Read it yourself; you’re not a baby.”

Tubbo glanced to the side, his wide eyes seemed to shrink in size. “I can’t,” he said simply. “Well- I can! But it’s really hard for me… I-I’m dyslexic.”

“So you’re slow?”

“Tommy!” Tubbo admonished angrily. “Don’t say that, it’s really offensive!” He could feel the eyes on him sharpen, turning aggressive. He shrunk in on himself.

Well, that was new information to Tommy! Mother called him that fairly often when he was being stupid, so he thought it was an okay word to say. Maybe he’d have to bring this up with her… (Had she said anything else that was, supposedly, rude to Tommy?)

“Sorry…” Tommy murmured. “I-I didn’t know better, but I know that really doesn’t cut it. I’m really sorry though…”

The eyes on him softened—slightly.

“Look… Tommy, I’m dyslexic. It’s a learning disorder—although, that sounds weird, so I don’t use it—and so it affects how fast I read among other things. To me, the words all jumble together, and my brain can’t process them right. It just- looks like scribbles to me. Picture some four-year-old’s attempt at writing a sentence.”

Tommy listened, not wanting to misunderstand again. This was a big mistake, and he didn’t want to make one again. He pulled his legs up onto his chair and sat criss-cross applesauce.

 “Yeah…”

“Well, it’s hard to know what a four-year-old wrote—if they can even write. That’s what letters look like to me—in a way. It’s hard to explain, but it’s incredibly hard for me to read sometimes. I can read, but it’s hard for me, so it’s obviously not exactly like my example.

“It also doesn’t mean that I’m… slow. Or dumb, or stupid, or an idiot, or any other rude word someone might call me!” Tubbo sniffed. “Because I can do maths! I love maths, so don’t think I’m slow!”

The library seemed silent.

Tommy looked Tubbo in his eyes (he’d heard eye contact was important in serious situations) even though they were downcast. He moved one of his feet off of the chair and wrapped his ankle around Tubbo’s. The brunette looked up at him with a strange look. Maybe this was weird.

He broke eye contact.

“I- I don’t want to call you stupid—I didn’t mean to—and I’m really sorry. I’ll try my best for nothing like that to happen again, but… I don’t really—well, I do… but I don’t—understand. If you could explain more to me… that’d be cool?” Tommy babbled. “We should really get started on this project though, and don’t feel forced to do anything with me ever again; I feel really bad and I’d understand if you never want to talk to me again-”

Tubbo smiled, although, for what, Tommy didn’t know.

“Stop, Tommy. You’re a dick. There. I insulted you too. We’re even now and what’s done is done. I hope we can become better friends,” he interrupted, sticking his hand out from where it had curled around his bicep.

Tubbo wanted a handshake, Tommy realized. This was a deal. They were going to become friends. He tried to keep his smile in as he brought his own hand out.

“I hope so too.”

And they shook on it.

“Now let’s get started on our project. Can you read the paper to me?” Tubbo asked.

“Yeah, big man.” Tommy answered.

“What does that mean?”

“It just… means.”

“Whatever you say… big man.”

Tommy beamed.

Very few people ever used “his language” and it made him smile every time. The only other person he could think of that used it occasionally was Wilbur, and mostly, that was to make fun of him.

Today had turned out to be better than expected.

Chapter Text

It was odd, Philza realized, that Tommy hadn’t come into the library in roughly a week and a half, and now he turns up with another boy.

He knew why Tommy hadn’t visited in that week and a half, and he didn’t blame him, but still, Phil wished he had known that the blond was okay in that time. He still didn’t really know.

The boy who had been with Tommy yesterday wasn’t here today. It was the next day and neither Phil nor his sons had yet approached Tommy. The teen seemed to be pretty focused on whatever he was doing… on his phone.

Typically, he worked on homework, but today his papers were pushed aside and his phone was what was in front of him. Now, Phil was no boomer, and wasn’t about to say anything about how Tommy’s eyes were going to go bad and his brain was going to rot from his phone screen, but he was holding his phone way too close to his face. Not that he would say anything.

He hoped Techno or Wilbur would go over to his table sometime today because it was sad watching them watch Tommy. And it was creepy. They should learn to not be creepy. If they wouldn’t do it within the next ten minutes, Phil would do it. All he wanted to do was find out if Tommy was feeling better than last week!

Tommy looked better, at least. Then again, there’s a big difference between looking normal and looking like you were about to pass out. Either way, it was an improvement in Phil’s eyes.

The time moved slowly, and as each minute passed Phil got more and more fed up with his sons. When the timer on his phone went off (yes, of course he set a timer), he got up and went down to the main level. His office was on the upper level and had windows that allowed him to see into the rest of the library. Very handy for making sure his employees—mostly Wilbur and Techno—didn’t get into trouble.

He knew that the twins were watching him from wherever they were, and Niki, at the counter, watched him as well. They had informed Niki and Ranboo of what had happened to Tommy, but asked them to refrain from asking Tommy about it or anything. Ranboo had only reported that he seemed to be acting fine at school, and that they were still eating lunch together. That was about all the information Phil had gotten since that day.

Although Phil wasn’t trying to be a particularly stealthy boi, Tommy didn’t seem to even be aware that he had sat across from him until several minutes later.

The blond flinched, eyes widening before his body relaxed. He relaxed, yes, but Phil could still see the tension in his shoulders. His eyes flickered around before finally settling on Phil’s face. The library owner tried to sit as patiently and still as possible. Tommy was no deer in headlights, but he was pretty close. (If the deer was a human and the headlights were the library, that’d be it.)

“Hi… Philza Minecraft,” Tommy muttered stiffly.

He tried not to laugh. Where did that come from!? “Philza Minecraft”—wow, full-name and everything. Phil didn’t know that Tommy even knew his full name. Wait til he finds out that his middle name is Death…

“Hey, mate!” Phil exclaimed with a smile. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days… uh, are you feeling better?” His voice softened, and he let his hand rest closer to Tommy’s on the table.

The bandages on the blond’s hands were still present, but they looked thinner. He hoped that meant Tommy was feeling better, and not that he had been running out of gauze.

“Ummm… yeah, actually. Er, thank you for… helping me, I guess.”

Phil smiled. “No need to thank me. It was the least I could do.” Tommy had literally fainted. Phil couldn’t name one person he knew who would just leave him there. Then again, he didn’t associate with people like that.

“Did you need anything else?”

“Not really, I just wanted to spend time with my favorite patron.”

Tommy deadpanned. “Haven’t we spoken, like, once?”

He laughed nervously. “I make favorites easily?” And it was true! With barely one sentence, Tommy had become his sun (see: son). He was… bright. Even when he was seconds from passing out, Phil could see how bright he was, how his light seemed to be straining at the seams. All he wanted was to show him that it was okay to let his light out. It was okay for him to be passionate, it was okay for him to be loud. Some people might think Tommy was annoying at first, but soon they’d find out how incredibly sweet he was.

“Sure, old man.” Ooh, he was getting bold, huh?

“You must be an embryo then.”

Tommy tilted his head and scrunched his eyebrows together. “You’re so old that you’re talking about things that don’t exist anymore. Like? What is that? I reckon you are simply making things up.”

Phil laughed, “Did you not take biology!?”

The blond shrugged, looking incredibly affronted. “I don’t remember!”

He thought for a moment, trying to recall high school biology. Yep. Not there. Head empty. “I’ll go get the twins to explain it.”

“You are an old man! You can’t even remember ‘the olden days’! You prolly say, ‘well, back in my day…’!”

“I do not!” Phil huffed, stalking off to find his sons. The sound of Tommy laughing followed him like a trail of murders leading straight to the murderer.

Now, one thing Phil would never regret installing in the library was the intercom system. Although his employees tended to misuse it, it was incredibly fun to mess with. There hadn’t been any incidents lately, surprisingly, but he was pretty sure part of that was because Techno and Wilbur had found a new fun: Tommy. They had less reason to be bored at the library and mess with the intercom when they had someone to talk to other than Niki, Ranboo, and him. It might have also been because the last time they did it when Phil was around, he told them that if they did it again, he wouldn’t pay them for the rest of the year. That included their allowances.

His sons were incredibly lucky to have both a wage and an allowance, and that was only possible because the library did surprisingly well. Not to mention that Phil’s parents were incredibly rich. Don’t ask him how. Even he didn’t question his parents' way of making money. He couldn’t even remember the job they had before they retired! Phil pretended that this didn’t worry him.

He cleared his throat quickly before pressing the button that turned the intercom microphone on.

“Techno and Wilbur to the front desk. Techno and Wilbur to the front desk—your father is looking for you,” he announced, hearing his voice echo through the library. Phil could feel the twins' embarrassment from who knows how far away. He chuckled at their misery. This was one of his favorite parts of being a father.

Smugly, he sauntered out from The Back and leaned against the counter as his sons trudged their way to the front. Tommy and a few others in the library were watching with amusement.

Once the two came forward, Phil said, “Toms doesn’t know what the word ‘embryo’ means. I don’t know how, but I don’t remember high school biology, so I want you two to do it.”

“Oldza,” Wilbur chimed.

“Oh ho ho?” Techno began, his eyebrow raising. “Phil, you’re already callin’ Tommy by nicknames? Man, you’re in deep. Not even we are!”

Wilbur gave his brother the side-eye. “Don’t lie, Technoblade.”

Technoblade blushed. “You’re not supposed to say anythin’!”

“‘Bleh, bleh, bleh. Bruh. ‘I’m Technoblade and I have a deep voice. Bruh,’” Wil mocked.

“Spot on,” Techno deadpanned.

“Right?”

“Boys, boys, we’ve got things happening! Get a move on.” He lightly pushed on their shoulders, trying to get them to head over to Tommy’s table.

“Dadddd? Can we use the intercom to call Tommy over here? He was laughing at us…” Wilbur whined, tugging on Phil’s sleeve.

His eyes brightened, and a grin lit up his face. “I won’t call you smart because you’ll get a big head, but that is a decent idea, Wil.”

The two brothers slid behind the counter as Wilbur went on and on about how Phil was verbally abusing him and how he should be reported to CPS. Phil reminded him that they were technically independent adults right now and he could just drop them wherever and not get in trouble. Wilbur shut up after that.

The three stepped into the back, having to maneuver around each other very carefully to not knock anything down or to run into anything.

They really needed to clean up or something. Phil didn’t remember if there were windows in here or not anymore. In fact, he thought that the last time he had seen this room clean-ish had been when his grandparents were still alive and in possession of the library and were taking care of it. His parents hadn’t meant to mess up the area, it just happened over time and by the time anyone realized, it was bad enough that it would take ages to fix. Maybe he’d look around to see if he could find a professional organizer or cleaner or whatever to get this sorted.

Wilbur and Technoblade pushed and shoved to get to the intercom system on the wall. It had started out peaceful, but in their family, Phil realized, nothing ever ended up that way. He was shoved to the side, and sighing, he grabbed Wilbur’s and Techno’s shirt collars. They stopped moving pretty quickly, both silencing and turning their heads slowly to face Phil. Their faces were priceless, and he cackled at it. The decade of martial arts from age nine to nineteen made him pretty capable even though he was shorter than his sons. They knew better than to mess with him.

“Hey… Dad,” Techno said, instantly sucking up to him.

“Very nice, very nice. How about I use the intercom system?” Phil offered with a deadly smile. The two pouted. “I’ll even use a funny voice—just for you two.”

Hesitantly, they nodded and stepped back from Phil as he let them go. With a smirk, he went up to the machine and pressed the button.

In a clearly put-on American accent, Phil began, “We need Tommy Ain’t It to the front, please? That’s Tommy Ain’t It to the front.”

He made sure that each of his words were clearly drawn out and punctuated. Phil has realized, with Techno, that people from America have less smooth ways of speaking. It’s more punctuated with less flow. The “r” sounds are harsher and less rolled and the “t” sounds are similar. He totally did not try to learn how to talk in an American accent when he was in middle school to impress girls. No, he’d never do that. From what Phil’s heard, that sounds like something Tommy would do—not something he would do; never.

That was a pretty solid American accent. Phil was proud of himself! And so entirely glad that he tried to teach- He didn’t do that. No, he did not.

Wilbur peeked around the corner of The Back’s doorway as he was the closest. He reported back that Tommy’s face was entirely red and he had miserably gotten up from his seat and begun to trudge over to the counter.

The three scooted out of The Back and watched smugly as the blond slowly trudged his way to the front, glancing around feverishly and looking for anyone who might be laughing or staring at him. There were none—Phil was incredibly pleased to see that none of the library patrons would make fun of a teenager they had never spoken to before. Making fun of the twins was allowed because most of the library-goers had spoken to them before and knew they could take that. Tommy, on the other hand, had never spoken to any of them. In fact, he didn’t really seem interested in talking to anyone besides Wilbur and Techno (Phil hoped that he was included in that, too, now).

He had no clue how Tommy would react to being laughed at all in good fun, but he definitely didn’t want the kid to break down on him or walk out.

At some point, Techno had gotten impatient and had walked to Tommy to pull him along. The younger one tried to fight back as much as possible, but Techno was rather large, and definitely stronger than him. He gave up relatively quickly.

Once the two had reached the counter, the pink-haired man stepped back behind the counter and leaned back on the wall, pleased with his work.

“What’d you want?” Tommy pouted, crossing his arms and holding them tightly. He looked cold, which was odd as it was spring. The library was decently warm, but for once, he wasn’t wearing his leather jacket with all the patches. How had Phil not noticed?

Wilbur smiled gleefully. “‘Tis time to let you, the child, know what an embryo is,” he exclaimed.

Tommy glared. “‘M not a child. If anything, you are.” He noticed Techno nodding slightly and smiled. Wilbur did tend to act childish frequently. “So, what’s an embryo?”

“Good question! Techno?”

“You don’t know,” Techno deadpanned. His brother bit his lip and smiled awkwardly, shrugging. Pushing himself off the wall, he moved to lean on the counter between Wilbur and Phil.

Loudly, Technoblade cleared his throat and began speaking, “Well, an embryo is… is- is a- uh…” Phil glanced down to Techno’s hands feverishly typing. He didn’t know either. It was then that Phil realized all of his children were dumbasses.

“So what’s it mean, Techno?” Tommy questioned smugly.

“An embryo is an unborn or unhatched offspring in the process of development, in particular, a human offspring during the period from approximately the second to the eighth week after fertilization. That’s an embryo. I dunno what other kind of crap these two were spoutin’, Tommy, but I know that I’m right. I couldn’t be wrong!”

“Is that because you looked it up on your phone underneath the counter?” Tommy asked, blinking slowly.

“No.” He sounded so sure of himself that Phil almost automatically believed him. He would have, if not for the fact that he had explicitly seen Techno type it in himself.

“That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one, mate,” Phil butted in.

“Phillllll,” Techno groaned, leaning against him. “You weren’t supposed to tell .”

The three laughed at Techno as he moaned and groaned. It took a minute or two for them to stop, and for Wilbur to ask the next question.

“So, Tommy, who was the kid you were with yesterday? The one with brown hair,” he wondered. Phil knew he wanted answers (he did too) but was this the right way to go about it? It seemed sudden.

“Uh- that was my aq- my friend. His name’s Tubbo and he is quite cool, so don’t you dare disrespect him,” Tommy threatened, glaring not very menacingly.

“Alright, alright! Whatever you say.”

Wilbur and Techno seemed oddly intrigued at the information they’d been told, but didn’t say much about it.

“Why don’t we head to your table?” Wilbur suggested. “Or we can pull up a chair to the counter for you to sit at? We don’t want your wittle wegs to get twired.” He looked down at Tommy demeaningly.

“Fine,” Tommy gritted, not happy with someone calling his legs “wittle”. Phil was certain that he was thinking something about him having big man legs that were, in fact, not wittle or twired, and that Wilbur was completely wrong. “But only because Tubbo is incredibly pog and you deserve to know about it but not to experience it. I’ll make you suffer.”

The blond walked off—probably to get his things and bring them back to the counter for ease of access when he was ready to leave—and Techno went into The Back to get a chair from around the table. When Tommy returned, there was a chair behind the counter where the other three were.

Phil wasn’t sure if Tommy would willingly sit behind the counter, so he told Techno to just move the chair if he didn’t want to. There was no need to cause too much fuss over something that could easily be fixed. The situation was protested briefly, and Phil was seconds from telling his son to move the chair, but Tommy seemed to give in at the last minute.

Wilbur held open the little flap on the counter for Tommy as the boy walked over and silently sat down on the stool. He glanced around nervously. The new point of view was probably odd to him, and the three let him become used to his surroundings before saying anything. The silence was comfortable though, and Tommy didn’t even seem to notice it.

“So?” Phil began. “Tubbo?”

“Yes!” Tommy exclaimed. “Tubbo! He’s like really smart, but he’s got this thing- uh- dys- lex- lexeeuh.”

“Dyslexia?” Techno corrected.

“I SAID THAT!”

Softly, Wilbur set his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and shushed him. “We’re in a library, Toms.”

He ducked his head down and didn’t make eye contact before talking again much quieter. “...Anyway, I may have… insulted ‘im? I don’t really remember too well. My mind kinda tends to ignore stuff I really don’t wanna remember n’ stuff. If something bad-ish happens or if I embarrass myself, my mind just tends to push it out until I completely forget about it. Kinda handy, innit?”

The three shared glances. Phil knew that his boys had eavesdropped on what had happened yesterday, and all had turned out fine, but what Tommy was telling them… Well, it wasn’t particularly healthy. Yeah, lots of people do that to an extent . If this didn’t have a stopping point or something; that would be bad, to say the least.

“I suppose,” Phil commented gently, not wanting to say more in fear of upsetting him.

Tommy nodded in agreement.

“Anyway, Tubbo and I are doing a project for a class together. He’s really cool—that’s obvious though, so I guess I didn’t need to say that. There’s nuke stickers on his folder, too; I reckon that he’s gonna cause some serious war crimes within the next year.”

“Oh…” Techno murmured. “That is rather concernin’… but POG . Who is this kid? Can you hook me up with him? I think he needs to be trained a bit more before doin’ any war crimes.”

Tommy grinned brightly. “Of course!” He turned to Phil. “It is alright if we work on school projects at the library, right? We might… get a bit loud. Don’t wanna disturb anyone or anything.”

Phil’s eyes widened a bit. “No, no!” he rushed out. “It’s always fine; you don’t need to ask.” He slid his eyes across the room. Someone was approaching the counter. “Wil, can you help that person out?”

Wilbur nodded silently and switched places with Phil, beginning to help the customer check out their book.

“Wow,” Tommy commented. “I didn’t think that Wilbur ever actually did any work. Huh.”

As soon as the customer had turned away from the counter, Wilbur whipped around to face Tommy. His face was completely red and steam almost seemed to come out of his ears.

“Tommy!” Wilbur exclaimed heatedly. “That customer could hear you!”

Tommy shrugged lightly and smirked. “But I'm right, am I not?”

Technoblade and Phil laughed loudly, and soon, Wilbur’s temper faded and he fell into giggles, too. All was well. Tommy seemed to glow when he realized he had made them laugh, and they weren’t laughing at him. He quickly joined in on their laughter.

Chapter Text

“Hey, boys!” Phil called.

Today was one of the few days that all of the workers were at the library. It was mid-week, Wednesday, which was typically the library’s busiest time. Students were trying to study for end-of-the-week tests, and others were in between being tired because it was the beginning of the work week and being done with life because they wanted the weekend to finally come.

Now, the library was never incredibly full, but today was definitely busier.

Ranboo was sitting at the table with Tommy and Tubbo. Technically, they all knew Ranboo was supposed to be working, but it seemed that Philza didn’t mind too much whether his employees were working unless they needed the help. It surprised Tommy.

The three’s heads perked up at the call and they turned to the front door, where Phil was standing. Only his head was poking into the building and he leaned his weight on the doorway. The owner smiled at them and beckoned them toward him.

Were they getting kicked out?

No, that couldn’t be it; Phil wouldn’t have smiled so kindly if that was the case. Tommy was beginning to get better at reading expressions and faces, he realized. Maybe coming to the L’Manburg Community Library wasn’t as bad an idea as he had always thought.

Their chairs screeched as the legs were pushed against the floor. It sounded terrible (like nails on a chalkboard terrible), but Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to care much. He winced slightly, but he really wanted to know what was happening outside.

The twins and Phil had all disappeared out the door several minutes ago, leaving Niki at the counter and Ranboo at their table. Tommy could only wonder what kind of predicament the twins had gotten themselves into that would deserve to be seen by them. Honestly, it was probably Wilbur who had gotten Techno and himself into whatever mess, he reckoned. Techno seemed to be a tad bit more level-headed, although thinking that did seem kind of out-there.

Needless to say, Tommy wanted to know about whatever was happening, so he paved the way to the door, ducking under Phil’s arm as he held the door open.

“Go around the building, mate. Wil and Techno are behind it,” Phil said.

Tubbo looked at him suspiciously. “We’re not gonna get kidnapped, right, Philza Minecraft?” he wondered.

Phil chuckled. “Never, Tubbo. We just want to show you kids something.”

“You youngsters…” Ranboo murmured under his breath in a mocking tone. Tommy tried not to laugh.

With this, the four made their way around the building to where the twins supposedly were.

It seemed that Tubbo’s eyesight was ten times better than Tommy’s because, even though he was behind Tommy, he raced forward as soon as the alley behind the library came into view. All Tommy could make out was Wilbur and Techno kneeling on the concrete next to a box of some sort. Following the brunette’s lead, he jogged after his friend. It was only once Tubbo had dropped to his knees that Tommy see around him and see what was in between them all.

It was a scraggly-looking cat.

Tommy’s eyes widened comically, and he, too, dropped to his knees beside the other four. Then he thought better of it and scooted back. The cat needed a way to escape just as much as he did sometimes, and he’d gladly provide it. The others watched what he did and copied it. The cat’s demeanor changed quickly after that. It was no friendlier, but it looked more relaxed, its hackles weren’t as raised, and its tail wasn’t held so tightly.

He smiled to himself.

“Man…” Wilbur sighed quietly, not wanting to spook the stray. “I really wish we had treats for it.”

Tommy’s face brightened and he jumped to his feet—slowly; wouldn’t want to scare the kitty. The people around him stared at him in confusion.

“I-” he caught his breath. “I have some in my bag!” When they looked even more confused, he explained, “There are several strays around town that just seem to find me , so I like to have treats handy to give them!”

“Alright, Tommy. Go get them! And when you come back, we can name the cat!”

Tommy grinned widely, and raced down the alley and back into the building. He barely glanced at Niki when she looked at him incredibly confused. He simply shouted, “Cat!” and was out the door before he could hear if she had replied.

He skidded to a stop a few feet away from their little huddle around the cat. His shoes slid gracelessly across the pavement. The tread on the bottoms of his shoes had completely worn off over the years so sometimes Tommy would slip when walking on certain surfaces. The gym floor was a big cause of falls for him.

All eyes turned to him, and smiling widely—wide enough that his eyes turned into slits and he could hardly see out of them—he held out the box of cheap treats proudly. Those around him smiled and beckoned him between Wilbur and Tubbo, where he had been before.

Carefully, he dropped to the ground between them. The cat needed to get used to his presence again before he could make any sudden movement. They watched him silently and he squirmed in his spot. After another minute or two, Tommy decided he’d had enough of “sitting still” and “being patient”. Sorry, Mother, but he’d never been too good at that sort of thing.

Holding on to the very edge of the treat, Tommy held out his hand to the kitty in front of him—not too close, not too far. The cat stared at it with a curious expression. Still, it made no move closer.

“Pspspspsp…” Tommy murmured under his breath, hoping it would help. The cat’s ears flickered in his direction, and it put a hesitant paw forward. This was progress!

The reason cats like the “pspspsps” sound so much is because rodents also make high-pitched noises like that. Cats are attracted to the noise. Now, the reason humans make it when wanting a cat to come closer is not really known. Still! It’s cool.

A bit more of the sound and the kitty was centimeters away from the treat. It quickly dipped its head forward and snatched the treat from Tommy’s hand, retreating back to its spot closer to the middle of the group.

Tommy smiled widely and pumped his fists silently.

“It’s a girl, Tommy,” Techno rumbled softly. “You get to name it since you got the treat.”

He glanced around their loose circle waiting for anyone to object, but all he saw were kind smiles and Tubbo clearly wanting him to finally come up with a name.

“Alright, alright, Tubbo. I get it, I’ll name the kitty!” He thought for a moment, one name coming to his mind. “Clementine.”

“Clementine?” Ranboo wondered, his head tilting (a quirk Ranboo had that Tommy had quickly caught onto). 

“Yeah, it’s a great name, innit? Although, if you all don’t like it, we can choose a different one. This was a group effort, after all!”

“No, no, Tommy,” Phil said, “it’s lovely.”

He beamed.

“Obviously; I made it.”

Tubbo laughed, “Big man, I think that means it’s terrible.”

“I am incredibly offended!”

The banter went on, and at some point, the cat had come closer to Tommy and decided to stay there. Once he noticed, another treat was offered and taken. Ever so slowly, Clementine inched closer and closer to him until she laid against his thigh.

He was certain that Clementine had fleas, but he didn’t care. He’d shower once he got home and make sure he didn’t have any on him before going to bed. 

The conversation droned on for a bit before it slowly came to a pause and they sat in peaceful silence.

Phil glanced at his phone, his eyebrows scrunching together. “Hey, mate,” he said to Tommy, “it’s a bit after the time you usually leave. You might want to get goin’.”

Tommy groaned, standing up and stretching.

“Do you have to go?” Tubbo whined.

“Sorry, Big T, I gotta get ‘ome before Mother does,” he replied with a small smile. It was nice to see that he cared whether Tommy left or not. Tubbo didn’t want him to leave, and that was probably a first.

He pouted and huffed loudly, turning away from Tommy and giving him the silent treatment.

“Well,” Wilbur began, “see you later, Toms. Tomorrow?”

He blushed at the nickname but didn’t say anything about it. “Mhm. What about Clementine? Where is she gonna stay tonight? I’d bring her back to my house if I could, but I can’t.”

“I dunno, Tommy…” Phil answered. “Clementine is a stray. She might not want to stick around.” He frowned sadly at the kitty circling his legs. “...But, Niki happens to have some cats, so we could see if Clementine wants to go in the library—in The Back, obviously—and Niki could bring some actual cat food here. If Clementine doesn’t want to though, we shouldn’t force her inside.”

He sighed softly, “Right, I’ll bring her in then and get my stuff and go?”

“That’ll work for us,” Techno replied.

Tommy carefully lifted Clementine off the pavement and held her close to his chest. He could feel her claws dig into his shirt, nicking his chest, but it didn’t hurt much. Once he got home he’d put something on it to make sure it didn’t get infected. He really didn’t want that to happen again. His hands ached just thinking about it.

Once she was settled in The Back in a medium-sized box they’d stabbed holes into, Tommy went back to the table and picked up his stuff. The others were all still in The Back watching Clementine. They would close the box for the night so she wouldn’t get lost in the mess that was The Back, but Ranboo had reassured Tommy that it wouldn’t hurt her. Apparently, Ranboo had a cat. Tommy would try to drag as much information as he could out of Ranboo about the kitty the next time he saw him, but he really had to get going.

He said his goodbyes to the group and made his way home. 

The second he saw the car in front of the house, Tommy knew bad things were about to go down.

He shuddered and steeled himself. A big, deep breath was drawn into his lungs as his eyes slipped closed, holding it for a second, he let every emotion fall off his face. It had been so long since he’d had to do this. It had been at least a month since Tommy had last seen Mother, and then, he had glanced out his window in his bedroom just as she was stepping out of the car after work that day. Another man had been with her. Really, the last time he had spoken to her had to be around his birthday, now that he thought about it. This year for Tommy’s birthday, Mother had told him that it was time for him to have his first taste of alcohol. He didn’t remember much from the night after that.

Wow… Now that he thought about it, his birthday had been just over a week before his first visit to the library. It felt so far away.

Bringing himself out of his thoughts, Tommy released a heavy sigh. It couldn’t wait any longer. He blinked rapidly, hoping no emotions were recognizable on his face and made his way in.

Chapter Text

The second Tommy left the building, all hell seemed to break loose.

THIS CAT WAS LITERALLY THE DEVIL.

Wilbur couldn’t understand why Clementine was fine with Tommy, but the second he wasn’t in sight, she would murder all. The first victim was poor Ranboo. Wilbur couldn’t think of a time Ranboo had ever done something wrong, to be honest. Most of the time, he just hung around doing his job and occasionally caused mischief. It never really affected Wilbur though, so he didn’t mind. It was rather funny, honestly.

Right. Devil cat.

Ranboo just wanted to pet her! And then he ends up with a scratch across his knees and on his hand. He tried not to think of what had happened about two weeks ago when he saw the scratches.

“Oi!” Tubbo exclaimed at the cat. “You’re not ‘sposed to do that! Come here, husband dearest. Do not let the little creature scare you.”

Yeah, and there was that. At some point, Tommy had gained a friend. An actual friend! He called Tubbo his friend. Before Wilbur. Then, Ranboo and Tubbo met and became husbands(???) for tax benefits, of course . Wilbur vowed he wouldn’t question what these kids did, but it was getting increasingly strange.

Phil came back into The Back then, having just seen Tommy out of the library. He glanced around the area to see Techno on his phone with his legs propped up on the table, Ranboo huddled close to Tubbo and incredibly hunched over so that the brunette could pat his head, and Wilbur just standing there.

“Alright, what happened?” he questioned, sighing.

“Clementine scratched Ranboo!” Tubbo tattled (can you tattle on a cat?), consolingly patting Ranboo’s head.

Once again, Wilbur’s father sighed. Wilbur would never want to be him, there was simply too much to deal with.

“Techno, go out and work the counter, I’m sending Niki to her house to get some stuff for Clementine tonight. We at least need some cat food. Wilbur, go and get the medkit for Ranboo; make sure to do it properly this time. And I? Well, I deserve a break. I’m taking a nap, mate. Only disturb me once Niki gets back—I’ll be in my office.”

No one dared to tell Philza differently, and he silently left The Back. Seconds later, Niki entered the room, picked up her purse, sent Wilbur a look, and left the room. Techno was quick to get up and work the counter after that, and Wilbur got the medkit off of one of the shelves in the room. He handed it off to Tubbo, hoping that he’d know how to help Ranboo because he certainly didn’t.

He didn’t want to talk about the last time he tried to help someone after they got injured. Although, Technoblade would gladly go off about Wilbur’s… skills… in that area.

With a hopeful glance at Tubbo—who looked dreadfully done with Wilbur—he went to the table and sat down heavily in his chair. He rested his head on his arms and groaned loudly.

“Shut up,” Tubbo commanded. He did; he was too tired to complain.

Out of all things to realize Tommy’s brightness, why did it have to be that bastard cat? If only it had happened to a slightly nicer cat. Wilbur could only hope that he wasn’t the one who had to give the cat whatever Niki was bringing for Clementine from her house.

Quackity’s cat was so much nicer, and even then, it wasn’t very nice. At least not to Quackity. Tiger was fairly nice to Wilbur, in all honesty. Animals had never seemed to really like Wilbur. He didn't know what it was about him that made them dislike him; they just did. That was part of the reason his family had never had a pet before. Techno had always wanted a dog though, so there were plans to get one, they just hadn’t gone through with it yet. With how rarely they were at home, it would be cruel to get a dog and leave it at home alone all the time. Abusive, even. Still, Techno had a list of names of what he could name a dog if they ever got one.

Wilbur would never understand his twin’s fascination with animals. They also seemed to like him, so Wilbur must’ve gotten the “attracts girls” genes and not the “attracts animals” genes. No wonder Techno got no girls.

He smiled at this revelation.

Niki returned quicker than he would’ve liked—not that he didn’t want to see Niki, but it meant that Philza would be coming back. Frankly, Wilbur knew his adoptive father was not in the mood to deal with any of this. It all seemed to go downhill as soon as Tommy left. Maybe he should message the kid; he did have his phone number now, after all. He could easily tell him to come back to save them. The only reason he didn’t was knowing that there was definitely a reason Tommy always left at the same time each day, there was obviously a reason that it took so long for Wilbur to get his phone number, there was obviously a reason he went to the library That Day instead of, y’know, going to the hospital with his parents or something.

There was a reason for everything, and Wilbur wasn’t quite sure he wanted to find out what that reason was yet.

Maybe eventually, but not yet.

Wilbur was also just lazy because opening up their messages was tons of work that required maximum effort. It wasn’t like he was already on his phone or anything.

With a sigh, he stood up and stretched—he could hear Philza coming closer. Ranboo, injured and all, had decided to go back to work with Techno and Niki, leaving Tubbo and Wilbur with Philza.

He wished he could leave too, but he didn’t really want to do work anyway. Most days he could easily get away with sitting up top and taking a nap in one of the far corners, but Philza seemed pretty pissed earlier. It was best not to cross him.

Luckily, he seemed like he was in a better mood than he was earlier.

“You haven’t gone home yet, Tubbo?” Phil wondered, asking a needless question because Tubbo was obviously sitting on the floor right there . Maybe Oldza was real and Wilbur’s father was legitimately blind.

“No, I want to see Wilbur get harassed by the cat,” he exclaimed, smiling devilishly.

He shuddered. Why did Tommy ever become friends with a demon? He was happy the blond had friends now, but really? A demon that looked like a human. Honestly, not the smartest idea.

Phil laughed heartily. Maybe Phil was a demon, too. He didn’t seem to have the same kind of sympathy for Wilbur as a human should. Especially for someone who was supposed to be his dad.

“I’m not sure he wants to, mate.”

“I DON’T!” Wilbur cried. “I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE NEAR THAT DEVIL CAT.” Tubbo’s smile at that moment made him want to sob.

“You may not want to… but sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to.” The small teenager charged forward, straight for Wilbur.

Wilbur screamed, getting chased around the room until he was backed into a corner. It didn’t matter that Tubbo was probably three times smaller in stature than Wilbur, he was certain that he could still do large amounts of damage. With how Tommy had said that Tubbo had nuke stickers the very first time he talked about him, Wilbur didn’t doubt that Tubbo knew how to build one. The kid was smart, that was a fact.

“Mate, all you gotta do is feed the cat. You’ll be fine. Niki already did the hard part—she got the food.”

Wilbur shook his head. “Get Technoblade to do it. He’ll actually enjoy it, even if he does get scratched. You know my track record with animals! I’m not getting within three feet of that thing without Tommy beside me, otherwise, Clementine will scratch out my innards.”

“That’s probably true,” Phil sighed, turning to Tubbo. “Can you go find this pussy’s brother? He’ll probably be stocking shelves.” Tubbo nodded and made his way out of The Back. Now alone with Phil, he was addressed again. “What’re you thinkin’ about, Wil?”

“Nothin’ much. I’m just- I don’t know actually. I wish Tommy could stay longer than he can,” he admitted.

He frowned softly. “I know, hun, but we shouldn’t push him. He is the one that knows what’s best for him right now. We can’t keep him any longer than he wants. As soon as we figure out his situation, we either will or won’t do something about it. Don’t worry, Wil. He’ll be fine.”

“I hope you’re right, Philza.”

Man, Techno was too good with animals, Wilbur thought, seconds from falling asleep later that night. He hoped that tomorrow Tommy would be proud of what they’d done.

Chapter Text

The door creaked open slowly. It was all Tommy could hear.

As soon as he stepped into the house and softly shut the door, all went quiet. Not a noise was heard. He was certain he could hear a mouse in the wall gnawing on the wood. (Didn’t it know that there were things going down?)

He slowly trudged through the front entrance and through the living room. Still, he didn’t see Mother, but he knew that she was in the dining room. A place he couldn’t avoid going through to get up to his room, as the staircase was on the dining room’s far left wall. Tommy looked up as soon as he stepped through the threshold between the dining room and living room. The house, for once, had all the downstairs lights on. That happened incredibly infrequently.

This made the lady sitting at the dining table—almost never used—stand out.

Mother wore relaxed clothes. She had definitely changed since work today. Did she even have work today? Tommy couldn’t remember. Where was the schedule he had kept so closely ingrained into his brain? She wore a loose flannel, one Tommy had definitely seen in the Box of Forbidden Things. His things. It wasn’t a place he was supposed to get into, but he was a curious kid, something he regretted after Mother found out and refused him food for three days. That was before he learned how to get his own food and how to cook. Underneath the flannel was a once-white t-shirt covered in various stains, it was paired with loose gray sweatpants. He didn’t want to know what those stains were from.

“Hello, Tommy,” Mother greeted. A saccharine smile decorated her lips.

“Mother!” he exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face unwillingly.

“My boy! Come here and give Mother a hug.”

The demand was met with Tommy quickly making his way over to Mother and leaning down to give her a hug. She smelled of smoke, beer, and fruity perfume. It sobered him and brought him back to the present.

That was the past and even then, he should’ve known better.

She patted his back lightly and pushed him back but held him at arm’s length with her hands on his shoulders. As relaxed as she dressed, her red apple lipstick still stained her lips. Tommy had always hated apples but learned to tolerate them with Mother. She made them bearable. Bobbing for apples had always been so fun! After he got over the fact that his nose always stung afterward, and his eyes felt like they were burning when the water got in them.

“Now, Tom-Toms, why don’t you go put your stuff in your room, clean up, and come back down for a little chat.” Never a question. Always a command. Tommy never missed that.

He nodded silently and briskly made his way upstairs. His stuff was quickly dumped in his room unceremoniously, the blinds were pulled shut, and Tommy changed into some different clothes. Shorts, t-shirt, no jacket. Mother had never liked the jacket—well, he had inferred that by her disgusted looks every time she saw him wearing it.

After changing, he went into the bathroom and rinsed his face off, scrubbing at what he thought was dirt, but was actually a mole. Deeming himself ready to face Mother again, he ran down the stairs and back into the dining room.

She looked up from her phone as he made his way in front of her. A wide smile was on her face as she set her phone down on the table behind her. “Good!” Mother exclaimed, lightly clapping her hands together. “May I see your phone?”

Wordlessly, he handed it over. It was a routine inspection—routine obviously meaning that it’d be checked whenever she saw fit, or whenever she happened to speak to Tommy next.

Unlocking with ease, Mother instantly went into his contacts. He knew what she was looking for and he knew what she’d find. She was looking for contacts that hadn’t been there before. Before then, he had hers, their neighbor’s, and Sam’s. That was all, but now, he also had Wilbur’s and Tubbo’s numbers in there, and he wasn’t about to give those up. Mother had barely let Sam’s slide, so Tommy desperately hoped that she was feeling more lenient tonight.

The new contacts were found quickly.

“Who is ‘Tubbo Underscore’?” she wondered curiously but accusingly, her eyebrow rose in suspicion.

Tommy cleared his throat softly, clasping his hands behind his back. “Tubbo is a boy I’m doing a project with. He asked for my number so we could discuss it because we can’t do it in class,” he explained quietly.

Mother nodded slowly. “Raise your voice, dear.” And then. “And ‘Wilbur Minecraft’? That last name sounds oddly familiar.”

“Wilbur is…” He thought quickly, knowing Mother didn’t like it when he stalled, but also knowing he had to come up with a lie as soon as possible. He hated lying to her. “Wilbur is one of my classmates in Geography. We sit next to each other and have done projects together in the past. I don’t know why the last name was familiar to you, Mother.”

Once again, the slow nod. “Mhm…” she mumbled in thought. “Alright, that’s fine with me. Keep being good, Tommy. Your grades have been good too, surprisingly. Much better in Geography, I have to admit. Don’t let them fall again, got it?”

“Yes, Mother…”

An eyebrow raised. He hadn’t been clear enough in his understanding.

“Yes, Mother!”

She smiled now. “You’re learning! You’ve improved so much, dear. If only this had happened earlier in life…” Mother patted his head and he tried to contain his smile. “Tommy, give me your hands.”

His face shifted through several emotions. Had she noticed? Most definitely. Silently, he set his hands down in her outstretched hands, palms face down. There was no scarring on the top of his hands, but his palms were a different story. Mother immediately flipped them over.

She squinted at them, rubbing her thumb over one of the scars. Tommy winced, and sharp pains ran up his arm. It didn’t even hurt anymore! It wasn’t that touching the scar was hurting him, it was literally just him remembering what had happened. He tried not to sigh as he realized that he was being so stupid as to think that he was actually in pain.

“What did you do, Tom-Toms?” she asked darkly.

“I-I burned myself while preparing dinner… I’m fine now, I swear!” he admitted, squeezing his eyes shut. His hands were squeezed and he whimpered; he could feel Mother’s nails dig into his skin with the pressure. 

A few more seconds passed and his hands were let go and dropped back down to his side.

“Turn your head up; look at me when I speak.” He did so. Mother’s face was so unreadable, the only thing he could tell was that her lip was slightly upturned and her eyebrows were furrowed. “Mmm… I expect so, so much better from you, Tommy! I guess my hopes shouldn’t have gotten too high…” Mother sighed. “Y’know, your grades have improved so I’ll let this slide a bit. Up to your room, you’re not to stay out past 5 PM, and I trust that you’ll only be out to work on your project. Anytime you’re not doing that, I expect you to be home. If I suspect you aren’t following these rules, I’ll ask our dear neighbors about it.”

She stood up quickly and took Tommy’s chin in her hand, and almost as quickly, let her nails tear down his cheeks. It left scratch marks and they bloomed apple blossom pink. He didn’t see it, but as it had been done before, he knew what he’d see in the mirror if he looked. Mother left the dining room, leaving him standing in front of the table motionlessly. He’d wait until he heard her door slam before moving a muscle. Another millisecond and the sound came and went. He began to shuffle his way upstairs with an ice pack in hand and shaky hands gripping the crooked railing.

Tommy’s hands still hurt.

He tried to ignore it, but when it was barely 7 PM and you were confined to your room, there wasn’t much to do.

He tried to sleep. It was too early and he could hardly close his eyes without every nerve in his body deciding that his sheets were just too scratchy and his pillow was just too lumpy. As if he hadn’t lived with it for his whole life.

He thought about playing a game on his phone, but it had been left downstairs sitting on the table, and Tommy wasn’t allowed back down there tonight, so that wouldn’t be happening. Tomorrow, it probably wouldn’t have much charge on it. He hoped he wouldn’t need it too much.

He tried coloring. It seemed to work. Tommy had gotten the sole coloring book in his possession from a giveaway at the grocery store. They were just handing them out! He couldn’t believe his luck. Previously, he had needed colored pencils for school, so Mother allowed him to get some. Those were what he used to color with. It seemed to work until it didn’t; until the tip of his red colored pencil broke.

That was where he broke. He couldn’t take it. With an angry groan, the colored pencils were thrown across his room as he slid them across his floor in an angered swing. Tommy ripped the coloring page out of the book and tore it in half. The poor cow he was coloring was in pieces and the wrinkled pieces of paper crumpled even more in his clenched fists. Curling into a ball, he slapped his forehead repeatedly and sobbed loudly. He had never been a quiet crier.

It took longer than it should’ve to tire him out. His fists fell to his sides, not even strong enough to wrap his arms around his knees, but he continued to cry. Tommy’s tears had slowed, but the ache of an oncoming migraine and his overwhelmed and overstimulated brain meant that they wouldn’t completely stop for a while. The overhead light in his room was dim and old, but its light was piercing and seemed to creep its way through his hair and knees and shine directly into his eyes. He tried to stand so that he could shut them off and hopefully calm his pounding head, but his legs were too weak and shaky to move an inch.

He shuddered out a breath and more tears slipped down his red face, cooling his cheeks down but making the uncovered skin on his knees even wetter. Quietly, he murmured nonsense words and tried to imitate Phil’s accent and pretend that Philza was comforting him. When had he become the person he thought of when he wanted comfort?

Gradually, over the course of who knows how long, Tommy began to get sleepier and sleepier, but also feel better. His eyes didn’t leak any more tears— couldn’t leak any more tears—leaving them dry and damp at the same time. His knees were sticky and damp from the copious amount of tears that had landed on them, and he still felt miserable. But better.

Shakily, he uncurled himself and sprawled out on the carpet. At first, he was face up, but the light was painful so he turned over onto his stomach. Being so spread out felt uncomfortable and made him vulnerable. Deciding that he didn’t want to be on the scratchy, stained carpet any longer, Tommy pushed himself up with his hands.

His forearms shook with much of his weight on them, and he hoped that they wouldn’t give out and send his upper body plummeting back to the floor. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stand up, he got onto his knees and crawled his way over to his bed tiringly slow. His eyelids seemed to drift down each time he got a fraction closer to his bed.

Finally, he reached the edge of his bed and pulled himself up while a heaviness settled into his very bones. It was only then he realized that he had yet to shut off his overhead light, and he couldn’t do that without walking over to the door and flicking the switch. With a soft sigh—he couldn’t manage much else—he stood.

Instantly, his legs buckled and he wound up back on his bed. When the hell had he become a fawn? When had he let himself get so weak? He knew he could do this, and he had before—or at least, done something similar. He was making it out to be harder than it was. Tommy grunted in frustration.

This time when he stood, he kept one hand on his bed to keep his balance. Gritting his teeth, Tommy began to struggle his way over to the switch by the door. He stayed by the wall or whatever piece of furniture was there, just something to keep his balance steady.

The second he was back in bed, sleep seemed to take over his body. With barely the strength to do it, he lifted his covers up and swung his legs under them with practiced ease, stunted by his unsteadiness. Man, Tommy wanted to sleep for days and nights on end.

That dream would never come to fruition, but he could wish, and maybe it would be something he’d dream about tonight. Again, Tommy knew that that would never happen. He only ever seemed to have nightmares. In a better world, in a better house, with a better father, with a better life, then maybe he’d dream.

Dream about good things, about cotton candy clouds, and chocolate rain, and being a prince of a foreign land, and all the good things in the world. The good things that could never happen in reality. In reality and to Tommy.

Chapter Text

Tommy didn’t show up at the library the next day. Tubbo did, but when he figured out that the blond wouldn’t be around, he cursed his friend out and instead helped Ranboo shelf books.

Technoblade couldn’t figure out any reason why Tommy wouldn’t be at the library that day. They had literally found and decided to keep a cat yesterday! He thought that the kid would be all over that, considering that he was the one that named the cat and the one the cat genuinely liked. He hoped the boy was okay, though. Sometimes, Techno surprised himself with how much he cared for him, but he was reminded of why he cared each time Tommy smiled.

Now, he wouldn’t tell anyone this—especially Wilbur—but last night, just before they went home, Techno went back into The Back and softly patted Clementine’s head. She had been ten times nicer to him when he had fed her than any of the others—besides Tommy, that is. She was no dog, and she was no angel, but Clem was sweet, there was no doubt about that. She was just another unlucky soul in the world. Techno hoped that they could keep her.

Oddly, she reminded him of Tommy.

The library was boring without the pep of Tommy around. He had no clue how he had survived before him. It was all so monotone and boring—like him, but worse because he was actually funny. There was no old lady gossip to hear about, which was surprising. Apparently, Agnes was out on vacation this week so her gals weren’t making as much trouble. Usually, Betty and Gertie had the best juicy gossip for him, but today, they had just asked for the newest Sudoku edition and been off.

How dreadfully boring.

Phil was out today, too. He went out to pick up an assortment of cat supplies. They couldn't just take everything they needed from Niki, he had reasoned. Man, his dad was honestly lucky that he didn’t have to deal with this amount of boredom. The old man was probably just avoiding doing his taxes though and disguised it as an average trip to the pet store.

All four of them, Niki, Wilbur, Ranboo, and him, were working that day. This had become more common lately as they were in that time period of just before finals where everything was easy. This would change quickly—because of finals studying—and Phil would be struggling to even get one of them to work.

Or maybe not. Now that Techno thought about it, Tommy and Tubbo would probably end up coming to the library more often to study. He wouldn’t lie and say that he’d study instead of helping them study. Not only had Tommy worked his way into Technoblade’s heart, but Tubbo had his own special, little nook in there. Finals were sounding better and better the longer he thought about them.

Once again, Tommy was nowhere to be seen at the library. After the first hour, he and his brother dragged themselves to Phil’s office to find some form of entertainment. Not even Tubbo was there! Apparently, Tubbo had messaged Ranboo earlier that day and said that he wouldn’t be at the library today because Tommy wasn’t going.

He could only wonder why he wasn’t going.

This reminded Techno too much of That Day, and he hoped this wouldn’t be a repeat. Now, none of them knew how Tommy had burned himself still , but Techno desperately hoped that the blond was smart enough to try and avoid whatever had caused that in the future.

Barging into Phil’s office was too easy. All Techno had to do was shove Wilbur into the door. The door had no latch (he’d like to believe that he was not the one to break it), and instead just swung open when any amount of force was put on it. Sure, his dad had installed one of those wall latches to the inside days later, but he rarely locked it unless he was having a meeting that he didn’t want to be interrupted by his, frankly rude (not Techno though), children. 

He was not having a meeting today though, and so Wilbur was thrown into the door to open it. It was a great stress reliever.

“Boys!” Phil exclaimed in exasperation as Wilbur fell into the awaiting “therapy” couch and Techno poked his head around the corner and offered him a cheeky smirk.

There was no way his dad hadn’t seen that coming though because there was, in fact, a quite large window right across from where Phil sat. You could plainly see whatever was happening outside the office if you so much as glanced through the window. To put it simply, that obviously could’ve been stopped but Phil completely agreed with Techno and also thought that Wilbur was annoying and deserved all of the misfortune that befell him.

See? Techno was never in the wrong, so it didn’t make sense when Wilbur unsteadily stood up and ran at him, knocking him down onto the couch, too. He had also never understood the “be quiet in libraries” because this library was never quiet.

“HEH?! THIS IS BLASPHEMY!” Techno screeched.

Wilbur stood triumphantly above him. “Go to hell, asshole!”

He sat up properly and propped his legs up onto the couch. Wilbur sat on top of them. Techno moved his legs out from under Wilbur and put his feet on his calf, tapping it lightly.

“What do you two want?” Phil sighed. His chair creaked, reminding the twins of his creaky bones and that he was still in the room.

“Dadza!” Wilbur exclaimed. “Philza Minecraft! Philza Minecraft, how I love you so! Philza Minecraft, we are bored.”

“Please let us leave, Phil,” Techno pleaded.

Phil laughed. “Can’t! Without a reason, of course. Niki and Ranboo are here today, so it should be fine for you to leave and get the groceries. I was going to go tomorrow, but it’ll be easier if you guys can just go right now.”

Techno and Wilbur shared one look before nodding in sync.

“I suppose that’ll work—but jus’ for you Philza Minecraft,” Techno agreed, nodding his head.

“Can we have the keys, Dad?” Wilbur wondered, standing up and reaching his hand out for Techno to take it. He did and was pulled up.

“Sure, mate.”

Phil tossed the car keys between the two and they both reached for them. With Wilbur’s height and long arms, he got them first and stuffed them into his pocket. Techno groaned, the brunette was a terrible driver! His driver’s license wasn’t even real because he failed the test and was too lazy to take it again. Techno doubted that he’d be able to pass it if he tried again.

Frankly, he could only hope he survived the trip to the store.

“Bruh. Can I have the list, please? Wilbur got the keys, and y’know that if he gets the list ‘e won’t even follow it, Phil! All he’s gonna get are those five-pound bags of sand…” Techno stressed. His voice became shriller and shriller as he went on.

Wordlessly, he was beckoned forward and Phil placed the list into Techno’s outstretched hand.

“Now get out, boys! I have work to do,” Phil concluded, shooing them out of his office.

As soon as the two were outside of the library, they raced to the car; always for a good competition. Technoblade won, obviously. It, honestly, would’ve been pitiful if he hadn’t, considering he did sports in high school and now does fencing. His coaches certainly wouldn’t be happy or proud of him if they found out that he had lost to Wilbur.

There was no point in winning either way because Techno couldn’t get in the car until Wilbur got to it and he was taking his sweet time. He had known that he’d be beaten and wanted his brother to be as annoyed as possible. Wilbur knew too well as to what would annoy him.

Once Wilbur finally made it over to the car, they spent another few minutes bickering before the car was ever unlocked. When it was, Techno collapsed with a sigh into the passenger seat. This would be a rather scary shopping trip. At least he had the list.

The Tesco in L’Manburg wasn’t too far away from the library. Honestly, it was within walking distance. Techno hoped that Tesco wasn’t busy on a Friday at 4:37 PM. It wasn’t even 5 yet, so there was a slim chance of it being busy. When the car slid to a stop in one of the outer parking spaces (Wilbur wasn’t allowed to park closer because he couldn’t be trusted to park between other cars), Techno took his glasses off and put on his sunglasses. The lights of Tesco were always too bright for his eyes and they hurt his brain, eyes, and just about everything else. The glasses were prescription sunglasses so he could see just as easily as normal, thank goodness. He was practically blind without his glasses.

“So what’s first, Tech No Blade?” Wilbur asked once they had gotten a cart, and were walking into the store.

“Well, do you wanna split up or nah?” Techno questioned back.

“Nah.”

“Cold stuff, then. I want to get that over with.”

Wilbur chuckled softly, shouldering Techno. “Ever the cold-blood, ay Techno?”

He sighed, “Sure, Wil. Whatever you say.”

They got through most of the list without a hitch, it was the end where they really lost their focus.

“Look, look! Technoblade!” Wilbur whispered loudly, tugging on Techno’s sleeve. “It’s sand .”

“Look, look! Wilbur!” Techno parroted, tugging on his brother’s sleeve. “It’s time to finish the list.”

He pouted. “But Technooo… there’s sand .”

It was true, there was sand. They were near the gardening supplies because they needed to pick up a new trowel. Wilbur had thrown their other one at Techno and broke it. This was not, in any way, because he had thrown it at him originally.

“Why don’t you take the cart n’ go get the next thing on the list? That’s… Oh! This is easy for you, Wil. Go get some bandaids. You know the kind we normally get.” Techno knew that Wilbur wouldn’t be able to run off to the sand by letting him go off on his own like this as he was right by the sand and would see him if he went over there. This was, simply, an unbeatable method.

Wilbur sighed, “You mean the Dora bandaids?” Techno nodded. “I don’t know why Dad lets you get those and I’m not allowed sand. This is favoritism!”

“We all knew I was the favorite.”

“Yeah, but the truth hurts, man.” The brunet sniffled loudly. Technoblade rolled his eyes and knocked his hip into Wilbur.

“Get a move on, Wil. I need those Dora bandaids, dude.”

Another loud—undeniably fake—sniffle later and Wilbur was finally leaving with the cart. Techno took this moment of peace and quiet to text Phil that they were almost done and that Wilbur had yet to eat any sand.

He was sent back, “ nice work, m8” with a thumbs-up emoji next to the text. His dad was cringe, and he would be the next he’d disown—after Wilbur, of course.

Just as he was about to slide his phone back into his purse (a very manly purse that Niki had gotten him for his birthday the previous year), it buzzed to life with a rapid series of texts. Jumping, Techno fumbled with it before unlocking it unsteadily. Shit, that scared him.

Wilbur had messaged him.

There was a photo attachment, and then, nine texts after. He barely glanced at the photo before squinting to read the rest of the texts as he rushed over to where he knew Wilbur was, trowel still in hand.

He weaved around the people in the aisles, sliding on the slick floor before carefully going around the next corner quieter. Techno could hear a few angry shouts from when he’d bumped into a few people, but he ignored them. This was the aisle Wilbur was in, and on the other side of it was Tommy.

His brother looked up as he slid up next to him. He seemed to have been reading the tiny print on the back of the Dora bandaids. The box was crushing under the force he was exerting on it. Wilbur so wanted to just dash around the corner and wrap his arms around the blond, Techno could see it. And he felt it too!

Lightly, he pulled the pastel purple band-aids out of Wilbur’s hands and dropped them into the cart. He kept his twin’s hands intertwined in his and leaned against him to ground himself and Wilbur.

“Mmm,” he hummed beside Wilbur’s ear. Frankly, he didn’t know what it meant, and neither did Wilbur. It simply wasn’t a word, but they both understood the point even if they couldn’t describe it.

Wilbur relaxed visibly, and keeping their hands intertwined, pulled Techno to the edge of the aisle to peer around the corner. Thankfully, it was at the far end of the aisle and in a not-so-populated area of the store; no one saw them being total creeps.

His head whipped back to Techno for a second to press his finger to his lip with a small smile. Techno nodded quickly and they both edged around the corner far enough that they could see into Tommy’s aisle.

The cart next to him was a quarter full, and Tommy seemed to be very thoroughly examining the shelf. He was alone though, as he had been in the picture that Wilbur had sent him.

No one Tommy’s age should be alone at a Tesco. Sure, maybe with a friend or two, or maybe to pick up something quick, but with a cart with average groceries in it? No. It shouldn’t be like that. It made the twins wonder where his mom was, and they knew he had one because he talked about her on occasion. He talked about her in a well enough light that nothing seemed dysfunctional about their little family, but maybe that was the point.

Maybe his mom was busy or still at work. Still, that didn’t matter, she could go get groceries on a different day instead of forcing her sixteen-year-old son to go shopping by himself. And maybe this was normal for other families—making their kids get groceries or something like that—but in Techno and Wilbur’s family? Never. The two had never been allowed to get groceries by themselves, even if they offered, until they were 18.

Technoblade knew Phil was protective of them, a result of having two kids out of the foster system, but he didn’t think that he was overly protective. Sometimes he didn’t let them do things that normal kids would be allowed to, but he still let them make dumb mistakes. Phil had let Wilbur figure out that smoking was a bad idea on his own even if he knew about it and wanted to make it stop as soon as possible. He had let Techno stay up until dawn broke because he knew that Techno would see that it was a bad idea when he was too tired to function, and even though he had studied all night, was getting worse scores.

Philza let them make mistakes all the time, and when they came back to him asking for help, sometimes he would help them, and sometimes he wouldn’t, saying it was their own mess to figure out. He was the best thing to ever happen to Techno and Wilbur.

Seeing Tommy Innit all alone in the aisle for over-the-counter medicines and similar stuff, and getting groceries for both him and his mom, set something off in Techno.

A fire. A fire that he could see in Wilbur’s eyes too when, as soon as they were back in their aisle—not peeking around the corner—he had whirled his head around and rested it in the crook of Techno’s neck. When he raised his head, Technoblade saw the burning passion Wilbur had for this kid they had met just a few months ago.

Tommy Innit reminded Techno a little too much of Clementine.

A little too alone in an aisle all by himself with no one around to watch him grow. The havoc that rained upon each surface that he touched and each place he went followed like baby ducklings trailing their mother. His havoc was the kind that touched people’s hearts and changed their way of thinking. Widespread destruction of the heart.

Tubbo and Ranboo. Technoblade and Wilbur. Philza and Niki. The people that had ruins where their hearts used to be before Tommy. Now, there was a hole too big to fill with something ordinary. Now, there was a hole that was just the right size for one Tommy Innit. The hole would grow the longer Tommy stayed, but Tommy would grow with it, and forever keep it closed. He could only hope that he never left, for fear of death and bleeding hearts.

Techno would consider him and Wilbur unlucky, and where one unlucky soul lay, others were sure to follow. Phil had turned their luck around, and now they had family, they had friends, they had comfort. It was time they repaid the favor.

This time, to Tommy.

From hell to L’Manburg Community Library to a Tesco aisle, Tommy Innit was a world traveler.

Next destination: the hearts of all around.

Chapter Text

Honestly, Tommy didn’t understand why he avoided the library for those first two days after talking with Mother. He was still allowed to go there, just, not for as long as he had before. Today, Saturday, he was going to make it up to Tubbo. They really needed to work on their project, and Tommy had said he couldn’t work on it with him for the previous two days. It was due next Tuesday, so they really had to get a move on.

Tubbo had easily agreed to going to the library with Tommy.

Tommy was at the table and was getting ready the materials they’d need when Tubbo walked into the library. It was still pretty early in the morning—about 10 AM—and it seemed like Tubbo was incredibly tired. His walk to the table took ages, and it even looked like he was sleepwalking because of how slowly he would blink at times.

Tommy hoped that he had gotten enough sleep recently. Just because Tubbo needed to be in his best condition to work on this project, nothing more.

“Good mornin’, big man,” Tommy greeted when Tubbo finally made it over to the table and plopped down in the chair across from him. His head instantly hit the table, and Tommy worried that he had broken. “Uh-”

“G’morning, boss man. I am incredibly tired. Why did you want to do this so early?” the brunet wondered.

“Well…” In this situation, the truth wouldn’t really hurt anybody. Sure, he was only telling a half-truth, but still, it felt better than outright lying. “My curfew is earlier because of some dumb stuff I did, I have to be home by 5 now.”

Tubbo’s eyes widened. “Wow,” he breathed, “that’s early, innit?”

“Eh… It was really my fault, so I understand.”

“I didn’t expect you to accept punishment so easily, Tommy.” He smiled crookedly.

“You don’t?”

Tubbo’s head shook quickly, his hair flapping about. “No, never! I couldn’t imagine not arguing over punishments with Dad. I mean, it’s not like he ever changes the punishment—even when I bribe him—but I find it fun, to be honest.”

He gasped. How could someone ever argue with their parents? “You shouldn’t do that, Tubbo! You could get in even more trouble. It’s bound to happen eventually. I can’t believe your dad hasn’t done anything yet!”

“Well-” Tubbo was cut off by Wilbur pulling out the chair next to him. “Eep! Wilbur! Don’t scare me like that, man!”

Wilbur laughed, “Sure, Tubbo, whatever you say. I heard some rather loud conversation coming from over hear; what were you guys talkin’ about?”

Tubbo glared at Tommy half-heartedly. “Tommy, here, seems to think that arguing against punishment is wrong , or something.” He stuck his tongue out at him.

“Well, Mother keeps me in check, and maybe your dad doesn’t,” he shot back. It was a low blow, and Tommy could see a flash of emotions fly across Tubbo’s face, not that he could tell what each one was, but at least he was getting better at seeing those kinds of things.

Wilbur clapped his hands together and smiled awkwardly. “I think that there are right and wrong times to argue with your parents about a punishment. Personally, I wouldn’t suggest doing it if it’s a big punishment or anything like that. Also, I think we can all agree that all parents parent differently, and therefore, we can’t call one better than the other,” he announced.

Begrudgingly, the two teens relented and gave up on the argument.

“Did you work on anything while… I wasn’t available?” Tommy asked after a few moments of silence, phrasing the question carefully.

“Mm… yeah! I worked on putting the information together and in order. I also tried to start writing it, but I bet you can imagine how that went… Would you mind looking over that today?” Tubbo answered, laughing softly. The earlier argument seemed to have left his mind in an instant.

“Poggers. Yeah, I’ll do that. How about I do that now and you find some more pictures and stuff?”

Tubbo nodded and opened up his laptop. “Do you have a printer here, Wilbur?”

Tommy had forgotten that the guy was still there, to be honest. “Yeah! If you want we can get your laptop hooked up to the wifi and printer,” Wilbur replied.

The two easily agreed and Tommy continued to work on his task while Tubbo went off with Wilbur to do their stuff or whatever. Sure, Tommy had agreed to the plan, but was he really listening to it? Nada.

He barely got through another two minutes before he was interrupted again. This time, by Techno. This time, by Technoblade holding Clementine.

He expected her to be better trained. She should’ve been scratching Techno’s eyes out right about now. Sigh… Tommy really thought he had taught his daughter better… This must be how Mother felt about him, but right now, he was joking, more or less.

The attack kitty training would have to continue.

“Hullooo,” Techno warbled.

“‘Ello, big man,” Tommy responded, setting his pencil down. There was no possible way he could get done for more than five minutes of work, apparently. He would just have to deal with it, he supposed.

“I’ve got your cat.”

“I can see that. Can I ‘ave her?”

“Sure.” Techno passed Clementine, carefully, into Tommy’s waiting arms. She rose from her dozing to stretch and resituate herself in Tommy’s arms before going back to sleep. “She seems to like me more than Wilbur.”

“You are the better twin.”

“Don’t say that, Tommy! You’ll bring ‘im back here. He’ll sneeze or somethin’ and be like, ‘Is someone talkin’ about little ol' me?’ like in those animes.”

“I don’t watch anime.”

Techno’s slight smile fell but came back quickly. “Guess we’ll ‘ave to change that, huh?”

“Are you a weeb, Techno? Weebnoblade?”

The man chuckled lightly and sat down next to Tommy. He leaned heavily into the back of the chair, stretching.

“I think Phil might be a bit closer to a weeb than I am.”

“Really?” Out of all people, Tommy couldn’t really see Phil being- Oh, wait. Okay, never mind. He could totally see that. What kind of middle-aged man would own a library if they weren’t a weeb?

“Mhm,” Techno confirmed, hesitantly, he added, “maybe we should all get together sometime and watch like—I dunno— One Punch Man .”

Tommy wasn’t too sure about getting together with Phil and Techno to watch an anime. He already seemed to spend plenty of time at the library with them. “Yeah, I’ve never heard of it.” He decided not to answer the question-but-not.

“Or, we could start with Avatar: The Last Airbender . Yeah, I like that idea better. When would be a good time? If you’d like to do that, of course…”

Technoblade was being oddly persistent—a trait Tommy really didn’t think that he could possess. How could one person, that said they weren’t a weeb, care so much about anime that they want to show some random kid from the library they worked at it?

Tommy honestly did want to see what all this anime was about. He didn’t really know too much about any of it—nothing, really. Sure, he knew a few popular ones like Death Note … Yeah, that was about it. The only issue was, he wasn’t sure whether he’d be able to. Were they going to be doing this on library time, or did they expect him to find time outside of coming to the library to watch it with them? If that was the case, it would take a while for an opportunity like that to come up. Seeing as, currently, he was restricted from being out past 5 PM.

“I’d honestly love to!” he exclaimed. “But… I’m not really sure if I’ll be able to.”

The man across from him looked at Tommy like if he didn’t figure out a way for them to watch anime together, he would die or something. He looked so desperate . For what reason, Tommy didn’t know.

“Uhh… We could have a sleepover!” Techno blurted, probably the first time Tommy had heard him say something with such excitement.

“I’m not too sure, big T… I’ve got to be home before 5 right now, so I don’t know how likely that’ll be for a while.”

Techno deflated like a balloon being popped. “Oh… When do your finals end? We could do it after ‘em; like as a celebration, y’know?”

He considered this carefully. There was no way that Mother would let him do this. Especially after this last time. But, as much as it went against his conscience and as much as it was a dumb decision, he was willing to sneak out to watch anime with The Boys. It wasn’t like Mother checked in on him after she got home either, so there was little likelihood that she would even know that he was gone. If he stayed over Friday—Mother’s busy night—and snuck back into his house through his window, he should be able to get away scot-free.

“Maybe.”

Technoblade grinned widely. “That works for me. How about you get workin’ on your project now? I think I’ll stick around ‘ere for a while, at least ‘til Tubbo n’ Wil get back. I thought they would’ve been back by now…”

Tommy shrugged and looked back to the papers in front of him. He really didn’t want to do work now, but Techno said that he should get back to work, so he would. With a sigh, he picked his pencil back up.

He was really wishing he’d be interrupted again. It seemed to happen every single time he was in a good, working groove, but now, the second that he did not want to get anything done, there was no interruption. Tommy’s eyes blurred the words together, and suddenly, Tubbo’s already not-great handwriting got seven times worse. Leaning closer to the papers and squinting his eyes helped minimally, and he was able to get through a few more points before a headache formed.

Huffing angrily, he fell back against his chair, startling Clementine awake by accident. Tommy pet her apologetically.

“Are you… alright, Tommy?” Techno asked quietly. He set his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. 

The blond looked up at Technoblade. “Yeah… I just can’t focus on my work right now. I know I need to get it done! Yet, nothing’s comin’ to me…” he explained.

“How ‘bout I call Wilbur back—Tubbo, too—n’ we can get out a game or somethin’? We’ll have to play in Phil’s office so we don’t disturb anyone, but we can do that.”

“Mhm! That sounds awesome.”

“Go ahead and leave your stuff out. I’ll make sure Phil knows to not let anyone sit ‘ere. Although, I’m pretty sure most people have been scared off,” Technoblade said, standing off. Tommy laughed nervously. “Let’s go get the other two now.”

Tommy quickly stood and began to follow Techno as he walked away. He walked so fast… It was funny; Ranboo would always walk slowly, so slow, in fact, that Tommy—and Tubbo—often had to push him forward so that he’d walk quicker. He assumed that it was because he was used to walking slower so that others could keep up with him, but he and Tubbo were always moving. It was hard for them to stay still—they could keep up. Now, the man he was walking with wasn’t unusually tall like Ranboo, and he wasn’t even as tall as Wilbur, but he could definitely move fast. Tommy wondered if he did any sports.

Apparently, the printer was in Philza’s office, so they didn’t even have to go to another room to play the game. It was Tommy’s first time in the office, and he was unsure of whether he was allowed in, but since Wilbur and Techno were perfectly okay with just barging into the office without Phil to consent to it, he assumed it was alright and that the older blond wouldn’t mind him being in there.

When Techno and Tommy went into the office, Wilbur and Tubbo were sitting quietly on the couch across from the door. They were on their phones and looked like they had been sitting there for a good while. As he took in the room, he noticed that a short pile of pictures sat on the top of the printer looking untouched as ever. Wow, he could just imagine the amount of effort that had taken Tubbo and Wilbur, and how draining it must have been.

“Hi,” Tubbo muttered in greeting, not looking up from his phone.

“Wow,” Techno began, “y’all are so friendly.”

Wilbur set his phone down, staring directly into his twin’s eyes. Tommy could hear Techno sigh under his breath.

“Technoblade, dearest brother, esteemed colleague, how has your day been going? I hope it has been movin’ and groovin’—as the kids say. I could never believe that thou would willingly come to me to be included in thine day. I am so incredibly unworthy,” Wilbur intoned, falling to his knees and folding his hands together above his head. “Allow me to bow before thou in hopes of showing thee my gratitude for thy presence!”

Tommy no longer doubted Wilbur’s ability to speak in Old English… Not that he ever had because out of all things Tommy doubted Wilbur in, Old English wasn’t even on his mind.

“Bruh…” Techno recovered quickly and joined in with Wilbur’s tomfoolery. “Get up, peasant. Sir Tommy would like to play a game with ye.” He vaguely gestured to Tommy beside him.

Oh, so now they were dragging him into this, huh? Well, three could play at this game. One problem, Tommy did not know Old English as these two seemed to.

“Yes,” Tommy answered oh-so eloquently.

The results were immediate. Wilbur instantly brightened and rose to his feet, and Tubbo set his phone down, Tommy went over and sat beside him. The tall brunette made his way over to a large cabinet on the other side of the room.

“What game would you like to play?” he wondered, opening the cabinet, revealing shelf after shelf of games. Tommy didn’t know any of the titles he could read.

“What do you have?” Tommy asked hesitantly.

“Uh… We’ve got Monopoly—Phil’s not here so we can play that for once—and Uno. Hmm… We could also play Life, or Scrabble, or Clue. Do any of those sound good?”

“Ooh! Let’s play Clue!” Tubbo exclaimed.

“That alright with everyone?” Techno wondered, sitting in the spinny chair behind Phil’s desk and leaning back.

There was an assortment of agreements and Wilbur got the box out. The game looked interesting, but Tommy had never played it. He didn’t even know how to play Uno, and that seemed to surprise just about everyone he told. This game seemed a bit more obscure though; Tommy guessed that it would be a bit less weird to not know this game. He deemed it safe enough of a game to say that he didn’t know how to play it.

“So…” he began, knowing what he was going to say and how he was going to put it, but wanting to get their attention. “How do you play?”

Tubbo smiled at him brightly, but with evident undertones of evil. “Well, first, someone died!”

Chapter Text

“Guess what I did, Niki,” Techno told her as soon as she entered The Back.

Niki had just gotten to the library for her shift and she was already being bombarded. Man, she must be popular. Well, she would simply flip her hair, laugh, and watch as they kissed the very ground she walked on.

She hung her purse on her chair before turning to Technoblade. “And what have you done, Techno?” she asked with a soft sigh, but with an affectionate smile on her face.

“I got Tommy to agree to a potential sleepover!”

Her eyes widened. That was quite the accomplishment and she was surprised it wasn’t Wilbur that had managed that. At that moment, the door flew open and Wilbur stomped in. Huffily, he plopped into the chair across from Niki. She tried to stifle a laugh. Wilbur glared at her.

“Y’know, I would’ve done it first if I hadn’t had to help Tubbo print out stupid pictures for his stupid project!” Wilbur exclaimed.

“That’s Tommy’s project, too, y’know. And I don’t think you even thought about askin’ him over for a sleepover,” Techno responded smugly.

“I hate you! You’re walking home, Technoblade. I’m leaving.” And with that Wilbur stormed out of The Back after roughly snatching his satchel off of the chair.

All was silent until they heard the front door of the library slam shut.

“I didn’t expect him to get that angry at me,” Techno mumbled, fiddling with his necklace.

Niki stood up and went over to her friend. She knew he hadn’t meant to make his twin this mad, maybe a little pouty, but it was all in good fun… Until it wasn’t. Wilbur had a temper, and sometimes it got out of hand. It was nobody’s fault and there was really nothing anyone could do about it until he calmed down. Still, she knew that Techno would worry over his twin for ages until Wilbur finally came crawling back to the pink-haired man to apologize. One way or another, it’d work out.

She set her hand on Techno’s arm, rubbing it softly. “Hey,” Niki murmured, “it wasn’t your fault. There’s no way in hell Wilbur will be mad when he finally gets it through his thick skull that Tommy is actually going to his house. That he can spend even more time bonding with him or whatever. There’s nothing to worry about.

“How about you call up Calvin or Skeppy to come pick you up, but don’t go home, Techno, give Wilbur some time to calm down. You know how he is. I’m sure they’d be fine with hanging out with you for a bit. Now, go! Live a little.” She offered him a warm smile.

He sighed, and leaned onto Niki’s shoulder, knowing she could take the weight. For a while, they weight-lifted together. It was really fun, more fun than it would’ve been by themselves, anyway. Consolingly, she ran her fingers through Techno’s long hair.

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “You need to get to work, and I need to get out of here. I’ll call up Calvin and get out of your hair.”

“See you. Oh! I forgot I had some cookies for you guys in my bag. Don’t worry about them though, I’ll give them to Phil before I head out.”

“He’s gonna eat ‘em all…” Techno groaned, slowly turning to his usual humor.

“I put a Philza-proof lock on the bag. No worries,” she explained, winking. “He’ll never get it open.”

Technoblade huffed out a laugh and sat down in his chair. “Alright, Niki, get to work.”

“Yessir!”

Later that night, Niki received a text from Techno saying that he and Wilbur had made up—unsurprising—and one from Wilbur saying thank you for the cookies. With a smile, she pressed on with her work. Yes, she had made cookies for the Minecraft-Soots, but she also wanted to make some for Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy. With finals coming up, Niki figured that they deserved them. She knew that they had all been working hard with studying for their normal tests and everything, so they undoubtedly needed some extra motivation to get through this last stretch of the school year.

She hoped that Tommy would continue coming to the library over the summer because she truly enjoyed the entertainment that he brought. It was common for some library-goers to only be there during the school year, so that they could study in relative peace and quiet. She also knew that some attended the local college (another thing that a small town like L’Manburg had no business having) and traveled back home for the summer.

Climbing into bed, Niki hoped that she would be offered a place at this supposed sleepover at the Minecraft-Soot household. The others she had gone to were chaotic and had a big place in her heart. On the other hand, she knew that the brothers (and Phil) wanted their time with Tommy, but maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to get Wilbur and Technoblade to invite Tubbo, Ranboo, and her, too. With the excuse that Tommy would be more comfortable with them there, of course.

That night, Niki dreamed of her and her childhood best friend. Back when things were alright. Back when they had slumber parties between just the two of them and they’d stay up until the sun was peeking over the horizon talking about everything and anything in between. No nightmares plagued her mind, and at some point, those dreams turned into the future, where she was with her new crew at a slumber party trying and failing to make popcorn. They were watching a horror movie, and Tubbo jumped so high that he fell off the couch and Ranboo fell asleep while Tommy and Tubbo were laying on top of him.

What a wonderful future. Now, she could only wait for it.

Chapter Text

Tommy had gained several skills over the past few days. Now, he could play Uno, Clue, Monopoly… He had already known how to play Go Fish when they played it. Phil made them play it after every other game ended in chaos, but Go Fish hadn’t gone much better.

Not only that, but Technoblade had invited him over. Invited him over to his (Techno’s!) house. Invited him over to his house to watch stuff. Technoblade invited him over to his house, which he also happened to share with Phil and Wilbur, to watch TV shows and have a sleepover. This was truly revolutionary. And Tommy had said that he would love to!

What had he been thinking?

Although, Techno had said that they’d do that after finals, so maybe he would forget about the whole thing by then. Somehow, Tommy doubted that it would ever leave his mind. Putting his worries out of his mind, he brought himself back to today.

Today, there would be no going to the library. Tubbo had practically forced them—Ranboo and Tommy—to take a break from working or studying for finals. Tubbo had been studying, too, but he was much more limited in his studying. Pulling him and Ranboo out of studying and work, Tubbo brought them to L’Manburg’s local boba place. It was somewhere Tommy had never been, but he figured it would be alright.

He hadn’t been sure of what to order, but the man at the counter with orange hair said he should get mango. His name card read “Fundy”, which was a dumb name if you asked Tommy. When he asked the guy about it, he said that he had picked it himself. Suddenly, the name was much cooler and Tommy wished for a cooler name than Tommy. Then, he realized he didn’t actually have any money on him.

After freaking out for a moment, Ranboo promised that he’d pay for him, but Tommy obviously didn’t want that so they argued. Now, Ranboo was also paying for Tubbo’s, but it seemed like that had been the original plan, and Tommy had been out of the loop.

“I’ll take strawberry,” Tommy finally said. He realized that Fundy probably needed more than that, based on the other things on the menu, and he was just about to go on before he was interrupted.

“I suggested mango, though!” Fundy exclaimed, sighing loudly.

“Mmm, no.”

“Good choice, Tommy. Mango sucks,” Ranboo applauded. “You need the other stuff though. You’d probably like the strawberry slush.”

“That, then.” He took a step back to let Ranboo order next.

Fundy nodded quickly and wrote it down, still looking slightly fumed.

“Iced hazelnut milk tea, please.”

“Expected,” Fundy deadpanned.

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Ranboo exclaimed angrily. Tommy knew there was not a single cell in Ranboo’s body that could be scary when angry. Huffing and pouting, he stomped over to stand beside the blond.

“You know what I want, furry,” Tubbo announced, stepping up to the counter. His presence was so, so very large compared to his size. Tommy decided that he had chosen well in the friend (he hadn’t exactly gotten a choice…) department. That was what he wanted in himself—to be big.

“I still don’t think I’m legally allowed to give you an…” Fundy began, glancing at the notepad beside him, “iced, triple-shot coffee milk tea with extra cream at almost 5 PM. Kid, you’re gonna be bouncing off the walls until at least 11.”

Ranboo looked worriedly at Tubbo, but Tommy knew that their friend could tank the caffeine with ease . Nothing to worry about!

“Is that not the point?” Tubbo wondered, a philosophical look coming onto his face. “Because-”

“Don’t even start… Give me a few minutes and your orders will be done. Ranboo, pay?”

The formerly mentioned startled out of his thoughts, and quickly pulled some crumpled bills out of his wallet, passing them over to Fundy.

The three took over a booth by the window closest to the counter, it was apparently Tubbo’s normal spot there. Soon, a tall person—almost Ranboo’s height, it looked like!—came and delivered their drinks.

Tubbo watched the two across from himself intensely. When asked, he said that he had wanted to see their faces when they took their first drink.

“I’ve already had boba before—with you, even,” Ranboo protested. Tommy remembered that the boy beside him really did not like eye contact. He almost pitied him. Almost.

“Well, you were the one who decided to sit beside Tommy, Ranboo,” Tubbo answered. “Not my fault or my problem. I’m simply staring in Tommy’s direction, which you happen to be in.”

Quickly, Tommy took a drink of his boba while Tubbo was still looking at Ranboo from their conversation. Frankly, this argument was pointless and there were better things to be doing. No, he did not get it over with because he wanted to put Ranboo out of his misery.

“I just drank some,” he said with a smirk. The others hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh, come on, Tommy!” Tubbo sighed loudly. “I was gonna get a picture. Pictures of people eating or drinking when they aren’t expecting it are always the funniest…”

“Weird dunk…”

“You have learned too much from Wilbur,” Ranboo decided, taking a drink of his own tea.

“Wilbur is like a role model to me.” He nodded sagely, not noticing Tubbo recording him. Wait. “Why are you recording me!?”

Tubbo grinned. “I mean… I didn’t get the picture of your first drink—”

“I don’t drink.”

“—so I figured this video of you saying, ‘Wilbur is like a role model to me,’ would be good enough for your role model .”

He groaned loudly and resigned himself to leaning his head against the table and bringing his boba under the table to drink. It was better than he expected, and he was thankful that he didn’t get mango. Tommy wouldn't have gotten it in the first place anyway, he didn’t even like mango! Then again, he might’ve gotten it to not make Fundy feel bad, but also because he knew he needed to build up his tolerance to things he didn’t like.

Like Ranboo. He had built up his tolerance for him pretty quickly. Much quicker than he had for any of the foods he disliked.

“I’m not sure if Wilbur is a good role model, Tommy,” Ranboo informed him.

He groaned again, desperate to change the conversation topic. “Can I try some of yours, Ranboo? I would try Tubbo’s, but I might get diabetes from just being near that thing,” he said.

Ranboo slid his boba to Tommy without a word. He took a tentative sip and found that the drink was decent. Definitely not as good as his strawberry boba tea, but okay nonetheless. He passed it back over with a sort-of-smile.

“What are you guys doing for summer break? By the way, make sure to let your parents know—if you guys are going on vacation—to plan around when I want to drag you out to hang out. Actually- just don’t go on vacation,” Tubbo demanded, a grin on his face, “that way I can drag you out without telling anyone. Then, no one would know that I knew where the body was…”

“This concerns me greatly,” Ranboo said, going silent again before his face lit up. “Oh, yeah! I forgot a while ago, but my moms wanted you guys over for dinner or something. You obviously don’t have to say yes, but they really want to meet you guys… I’ve never really had friends before.”

“Moms?” Tommy wondered.

Ranboo glanced nervously at him. “Yeah… I have two moms; I was adopted. It’s not like a stepmother or anything! They’re married, and- and if you don’t like that… then leave!”

Wow, that was the most forceful he had ever seen his friend.

“Pog,” Tubbo intoned.

On the other hand, Tommy took a moment to respond because… he really didn’t understand. “I didn’t know two women could get married…”

His friends’ eyes widened. “You didn’t?” Tubbo took a drink of his tea and leaned his head onto his hand.

He shook his head, his forehead growing increasingly creased. Ranboo reached up and pressed his finger down his forehead to smooth out the wrinkles, a small smile on his face. Tommy relaxed.

“Sorry for yelling then. I-I—” Ranboo stopped himself. “So, do you guys think you would be able to come over for dinner sometime?”

“Yep! Probably, just have to ask my dad,” Tubbo answered. “I hope your mums’ cooking is good.”

“The best.”

“Dunno…” Tommy murmured.

“Let me know when you can—probably over the weekend?—and we can plan around that.”

He really didn’t want to burden Ranboo’s family (and Tubbo) with having to deal with his schedule. It was less that there was a schedule and more that, frankly, he was nervous to ask Mother if he could eat dinner with Ranboo’s family. He certainly didn’t know her stance on… womanly marriage, so he supposed he just wouldn't mention that. But when he had decided that these guys were his friends—Tubbo his best friend and Ranboo some annoying giant who happened to be lonely and hung around without consent—he had also decided that he was going to put in effort.

Effort into their relationship. Effort in maintaining their friendship. Just effort . Something he really had never tried to do before. Tommy wouldn't lose his best friends without a struggle, without crashing and burning, without the city of L’Manburg coming down with them.

“Ooh!” Ranboo exclaimed, startling Tommy out of his thoughts. “We could have a sleepover too; if the dinner goes well!”

Tubbo rapidly agreed, and Tommy was quick to follow—he wasn’t quite sure what a sleepover entailed, but he could guess from the books he had read, the context, and the fact that it was a compound word with seemingly obvious meaning. This was definitely something that Mother would say no to, but maybe he could just say that he was going over for dinner on a night Mother had work and therefore, he could stay over without her ever noticing.

Now, that was an idea.

A bad one. But an idea.

“Well, we should do that right before finals if we can. That way we don’t mess with Tommy’s sleepover at Phil’s. Think of it as a precursor award!” Tubbo exclaimed.

“Alright, I’ll ask Mother as soon as I can,” Tommy replied, a grin on his face. This was shaping up to be the best year ever!

He hoped it would stick.

Chapter Text

Phil could not wait for all of his boys to be done with finals. Once they were done it would mean that Tommy would be coming over to their house for a sleepover. He was determined to make that sleepover the best one in the world. It was so obvious that Tommy had never been to one or had one himself, and they would do everything .

He didn’t know when he started referring to Tommy as one of his boys.

There was just one more week until Wilbur and Techno’s finals, and the next week was the high school’s finals. The day the finals were done, Phil would be picking Tommy up from school and bringing him home for the sleepover. The library would be closed that day for the sleepover. They were pulling all the stops.

Just because he and his boys had instantly taken a liking to this kid, did not mean that he was about to not look into him a little bit more. They were going to have him at their house, after all. It wasn’t that Tommy was suspicious… but he was. So, as illegal as it may have been, he took some time to see what he could find out about the Innit family.

Admittedly, there wasn’t much.

The family tree was shockingly short. There weren’t even pictures of Tommy or his mom. It seemed that each generation only had one child, which was a bit odd, but who knows, it could’ve been a family tradition or a cultural thing. Phil wasn’t one to judge.

He did wonder where Tommy’s dad was, but he knew that he had never mentioned it before, and he knew how family was… He let his thoughts about that go. After that, he realized that he was being a bit snoop-ish to be looking through all of this; he slammed the folder shut and put it back. Phil had no reason to be going through this and should only take the information Tommy gave him. It was an invasion of privacy. That ended his “background check” because he realized that he didn’t want to know where Tommy came from as it would skew his perception of him.

He stood up from his desk and stretched, his back popping. Maybe Phil was getting old—as his sons said. That last thought was immediately removed from his mind.

Currently, Niki and he were the only two working, as it was not only the dead hours of the day, but the others were also still at school. Niki had several evening classes and just one morning class, so she was still able to work the afternoon shifts. Making his way downstairs, he saw that the bleach blonde was shelving the books that had come in from the last shipment. There were few people in the library; Phil only saw one older man, and he was sitting on a green wing chair quietly reading (he might’ve fallen asleep though).

He made his way behind the counter and into The Back, Phil had gotten bored of doing office work ages ago. He decided that he would try and clean up a few shelves, Phil flicked on the light… only to be reminded of how much of a disaster it truly was.

The light was switched off and he backed out of the disgrace of a room with a grim face. That was not his issue today.

Sighing, he leaned against the worn counter as Niki marked off each book on a clipboard as she shelved. How could one person be so incredibly organized compared to him? And one of his subordinates? She finished the job quickly and made her way back to the front, joining her employer.

“Hello, Phil!” she greeted, stashing the clipboard underneath the desk. “How has your day been?”

“Rubbish…” he replied dryly.

She laughed. “It’s okay if you want to go out and do something. You look pretty antsy and I’ll be okay for a few hours, and by that time, Wilbur and Techno will be back. You don’t have to be at the library every waking moment.”

Phil sighed. “I know… but I just have so much work to do. Not to mention we’re closing the library for a little bit for the sleepover… It’s a lot of work.”

“Ranboo and I could always-”

“No, Niki! I’m not making you two work while the others and I are having fun. Go have a spa day or something. But… can I really take your offer of leaving up?” Niki nodded, a grin on her face. “Great, I’ll be going out for a bit. Do you want any coffee? I’ll stop by a coffee place on my way back.”

“Hot chocolate is fine. Get outta here, Phil! Do old man things! Go.”

He chuckled and quickly made his way out of the library with a wave. Phil was finally free! He got into his car and started driving. Nowhere in particular, it was nice to just drive for a little while. It wasn’t often that he got moments like these. Deciding to drive by the wildlife reserve on the southern outskirts of town, he made another right. It was one of his wife’s favorite places in L’Manburg.

She didn’t come down to the library very often anymore because her work was often prioritized over her life, so she had never met Tommy, and now, he was coming to their house. Phil hoped that she would love Tommy just as much as he and the boys did. They had all told her so much about him that he was sure that she practically knew him just as well as they did. He had a feeling that they would get along swimmingly either way.

He knew that her work at the courthouse was important to her and the town, but he also just wished to have her all to himself. There were some days when Kristin would come home after Phil had already gone to bed. It was scary knowing that some nights she was out so late, but Phil knew she was incredibly capable with the pepper spray in her purse and the black judo belt hanging proudly beside her uniform in the laundry room. Kristin was magnificent.

The wildlife reserve didn’t look like much just driving past it, but walking through it was beautiful. Phil reminded himself to go on a date with Kristin as soon as possible and bring her here for a picnic.

As he made his way back into town, a familiar ding came from his phone. Phil stopped the car in the parking lot of the dog park. He came there every so often to watch the dogs that played there. Dogs were great. He opened up his phone to find the text was from Ranboo; it wasn’t often that Ranboo texted him, and if he did text, it was usually to let Phil know that something came up and he couldn’t work a shift. This time, it was something different. Very different.

For one, the text was in all-caps, which in itself is something to worry about when it’s coming from Ranboo. Second, the text was about Tommy. Third:

Ranboo Beloved
TOMMY’S BIRTHDAY WAS APRIL 9TH, PHIL. DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT. HE NEEDS GIFTSSSS

His eyes widened, and he bit at his lip. They had to do something about this! Tommy had been going to the library since March, which meant that his birthday passed and Tommy hadn’t said anything about it. How old was he now? Phil’s eyebrows furrowed and told Ranboo to send that to Wilbur and Techno, too. They would do something for the boy while he was at their house. Ranboo and Tubbo could do something with him before or after then, but Phil wanted to do something with just them, and he was sure his boys would agree with him.

Now, he had to think of what to get the kid. Ooh! He’d pick up ice cream, too. Tommy seemed like the type of kid that couldn’t have a lot of sweets, so Phil would be sure to pick something special up.

The amount of time he had spent not at work was a little embarrassing. As a middle-aged man, leaving work to go shopping for your sons’ little friend who’s probably never had a proper birthday (proper by Phil’s standards, anyway) in his life is slightly embarrassing. Working at a library is probably a bigger embarrassment, to be honest. It was also probably the reason he got called old so often, but the ones who called him old also worked at the library… So aren’t they old too? But, calling Wilbur and Techno old implied that he was old.

There really was no way to lessen the number of people calling him old.

He could quit his job, but he had a feeling that would end badly.

Yeah, he’ll just stick to being called old.

After the shopping spree in the middle of his work hours, Phil had brought everything back to their house for a little bit of extra time away from the old ladies and bored college students that permeated the library. He tried to hurry up though; he didn’t want Niki to suffer through that by herself.

He got back a few minutes before Wilbur and Techno would arrive for their shift after school, which meant that Tommy and Tubbo would be coming by in about an hour. After getting back, Phil told Niki to head home a little early as thanks for covering for him while he went out for an extra long break.

She had told him that as her boss she couldn’t refuse his request to cover for him, and she also couldn’t refuse him if he was offering to let her go home early. Phil laughed and waved goodbye to her as she walked out of the building.

The time passed at a dreadfully slow pace as he waited for Wilbur and Techno to arrive, and later, for Tommy and Tubbo to get there, too.

Why did time with those that you love pass so much faster than the time spent away from them?

Chapter Text

Now, Tommy wouldn’t say he lied to Mother… He simply stretched the truth. In fact, he’d never lied to Mother before because she had taught him that lying was wrong, but something he quickly learned as he grew was that Mother hadn’t exactly told him the truth all the time. What was the point of telling her the whole truth if that trust was not reciprocated?

It wasn’t often he didn’t tell Mother the full truth. There were some things (like a sleepover) that were just too good to possibly give up, and he wasn’t about to let an opportunity like that go.

This was how he ended up in front of the Crafts’ door with his backpack swung around his shoulder not filled with school stuff, but instead with clothing and toiletries. Wilbur and Techno stood in front of him, apparently not able to unlock their own front door. They had picked him up from school today as it was the last day (thank goodness).

“Do you want some help?” Tommy offered slowly, tired of watching them struggle.

“N-no, no we got it!” Wilbur exclaimed, trying to shove the house key into the lock backward and groaning when his pushing was ineffective.

“Yes, yes please help us,” Technoblade pleaded in contrast to his brother.

Tommy quickly swiped the key from Wilbur’s shaking hands with practiced ease, turning the key over and slipping it into the lock easily. He turned the key slowly and made a show of pulling the door open.

Wilbur groaned, pushing his face into his hands. “I was shown up by a kid…”

“Big man, you mean.”

“Sure…”

Wow, Wilbur was distraught enough to agree to Tommy being a big man. This was truly a distressing situation for him.

Techno cleared his throat and took the key back as they stepped into the large house. “Ignorin’ that… Welcome home!”

And that was clearly not what Tommy was expecting Techno to say because he took a small step back, and his eyes widened as he glanced around the foyer that he had been let into.

The house was large, that much was true. For a father that lived off of a librarian’s salary and maybe a wife(?), the house was surprisingly luxurious. Although, what Tommy was comparing it to was little more than livable. From the front door, the house split off in two directions with a staircase separating the areas. To the left, was a kitchen and a dining room farther back while a living room was to the right.

“Right,” Wilbur began, “would you like a tour? Oh, but first, go ahead and take off your shoes.”

“Why not,” Tommy answered, still a little surprised at the generous welcome. He untied his shoes and placed them beside Techno’s and Wilbur’s.

“Alright!” And with a flourish of his arms, Wilbur made his way further into the house, starting with the kitchen side. Tommy trailed after him and Techno brought up the rear.

“This is a kitchen,” Techno deadpanned, “that is a dining room. Boom! This half of the tour is done. C’mon Tommy, let’s do the rest n’ then we can party. Now, just so y’know, the Minecrafts’ party hard.”

“Oh, yes…” a woman’s voice said. Wilbur and Techno turned around, facing the way they had just come from. Tommy quickly followed. “We sure do!”

The lady was on the shorter side with long, flowing black hair. She wore a purple dress with a simple black cardigan.

“Oh, Mum, we didn’t hear you come in,” Wilbur said. So this was their mum.

Completely ignoring her son, she turned to Tommy. “You must be Tommy. I’m Kristin, but seriously, just call me mom.” His eyes widened. That was so informal! He had never called another woman mum before, and Mother always taught him that manners were important. It seemed so… so wrong.

“Uh- I dunno… I really don’t think- Isn’t that a bit… informal? It doesn’t seem r-right,” he stuttered out. He hoped that they didn’t think he was disrespecting them.

“I insist!”

“C’mon Mom… don’t do this to the kid,” Techno butted in. Tommy didn’t understand what he was trying to say. “He’s a bit shy, y’know.”

Tommy’s eyes widened indignantly. That’s simply preposterous! “I am not ! Miss Kristin, I assure you, you will never meet a more outgoing and extroverted person!” He hoped calling her that was alright.

Kristin laughed softly. “You’re right! I really haven’t. Techno, why don’t you apologize?” She didn’t say anything, so he assumed it was fine.

Techno looked startled and fidgeted with his shirt. “I-I don’t really see how that’s necessary…” One look from his mother had him glancing at the floor. “Y’know, Tommy… I am so, so sorry for what I called you—” Wilbur snorted “—and I believe I need to apologize for my… misspeak. I think the proper word is nervous, maybe? Does that- er- suit your tastes?”

Tommy could tell that even Techno was moments from laughing. His twin was already laughing his ass off next to him, and Kristin was trying to chuckle discreetly. It was not working well, to say the least.

He smiled.

I think I’m starting to like this family…

Clearing his throat, Tommy began again, “Well… regarding your apology —honestly, you can barely call that one—and your meaningfulness, I suppose I can forgive you for this grievance. BUT. And I mean BUT… I don’t agree with your usage of the word ‘nervous’. I could barely be called nervous, and I think just about everyone here could agree with me. Of course, I’m saying ‘just about’ because you’re the only one here who thinks otherwise, and you know, I want to be inclusive.

“Discrimination is not pog.”

Wilbur nodded along. Clearly pleased with Tommy’s response. “Bravo!” he cheered.

Dejectedly, Techno continued to look at the floor. “How about we just forget about this conflict, Tommy? Why don’t we continue this absolute blast of a party in the livin’ room with snacks and Monopoly?”

Technoblade obviously knew that was officially one of Tommy’s favorite games now. Ever since they had played together—with Tubbo, too—and he had found a new love for board games and fraud. That was especially fun. Of course, he realized that was not the proper way to play, but that was the way Wilbur had taught him. How could he oppose such fun?

“DEAL!” he exclaimed, happily bouncing on his toes.

Trailing after the other three as they quietly chuckled, they soon ended up in the living room. Phil was already in there, seemingly waiting for them. He had most likely heard their rather loud conversation in the kitchen. Although he appeared not to mind.

“Hey, Tommy!” he greeted. “How about, before we get started with games, you go put your bag upstairs. Wilbur’ll show you the room you’ll be sleeping in.”

Tommy nodded and turned to Wilbur, who beckoned him up the stairs. He was already standing halfway up them. Once they were both upstairs, he quickly looked around. A hallway split in two with a small open part that was lined with filled bookcases. He wasn’t surprised considering the owner of a library lived here. They took the left side of the hallway and came to the second door down.

“This is my room, but Techno, you, and I will be sleeping here. If you’d prefer to sleep in your own room, we have a guest room you could stay in,” Wilbur explained briefly, entering the room.

He followed behind and replied, “No! That’s fine. I looked up proper sleepover etiquette and that’s normal, so let’s do it!” Tommy was quite proud of the research he had done.

Still, Wilbur laughed. “You make me laugh, Tommy. I’m so glad we met.” After a brief pause, he was told to set his bag down and head downstairs. Wilbur had to use the bathroom and didn’t want to keep the others waiting.

Following the directions, he made his way back to the living room. He found Techno and his parents sitting on the floor around the coffee table. The couch had been pushed back a little bit, and Phil and Kristin sat on that side. They were leaning against the front of the couch.

“Tommy!” Techno called. “Come sit over here.”

Smiling, he eagerly took the spot beside Technoblade. Monopoly was already set up on the table, and three pieces were already in their places on GO. There was the hat piece, the battleship (which Tommy knew to be what Techno played as), and the thimble. He got out the car piece—the same piece he had used when he first played—and placed it beside the others.

He looked across the coffee table. “Philza, don’t you think you’re a bit old to be sitting on the floor? Are you gonna be able to get up or will we have to call emergency services?” he questioned. “Hm?”

Phil laughed brightly. “You know, mate, Kristin is older than me,” he mentioned.

Tommy’s eyes widened comedically. “But Kristin is so sophisticated and cool and she’s a woman , which just makes her infinitely better than you, Philza Minecraft.”

“You hear that, Philza Minecraft? I’m a woman,” Kristin repeated.

“Tommy’s right, Phil. You are getting up there… Don’t worry, we’ll be sure to help you up,” Techno added, turning to him, he continued. “Sometimes we call Kristin Mumza.”

“ Mumza …” Tommy uttered. He was amazed. What a cool lady. “You are so pog.”

Kristin laughed, but hands came upon Tommy’s shoulders and he flinched. Whipping his head around, he saw that it was only Wilbur and calmed down a bit.

“Scoot over…” Wilbur whined, nudging Tommy’s shoulder.

“How needy.” Still, he scooted closer to Techno so that Wilbur could slide in beside him.

Ignoring him, Wilbur plucked the man-on-a-horse piece from the box. He glanced up to see that Kristin was managing the bank and Phil had the properties. “What!?” Wilbur exclaimed. “Mummm… I wanted to be the bank…”

“Oh, no! Not after last time,” Kristin laughed.

“You act like you don’t cheat more than Techno and I combined!”

Kristin paused, her mouth open. “I-I don’t cheat , it's strategy .”

Wilbur looked at Tommy and rolled his eyes. He tried not to laugh.

“Wilbur,” Phil began, “your mother would never cheat.” Ah, so he was in denial. “Anyway, Tommy, you can start since you’re the youngest and our guest.”

He nodded. For once he would let this happen, maybe going first would help him win! He even let the fact that Phil called him the youngest go, this shining opportunity to get ahead of everyone else was too good.

His first roll of the dice and he ended up in the middle of the properties on that side of the board. Tommy hadn’t landed on anything good enough to buy, so he passed the dice along to Wilbur. The turns continued, and soon it was his turn again.

The second roll was doubles. He rolled again, doubles. Tommy gritted his teeth, getting doubles again would be annoying. The only thing they had told them when he first played was that he really wouldn’t want to get three doubles in a row. Not knowing what that entailed, he was now nervous. Would they tickle him if it happened? Lose all of his money? Have whipped cream shoved into his face?

Frankly, he didn’t know.

Wilbur giggled on his right side. Tommy swallowed. The anticipation was nerve-racking. Taking a deep breath, he rolled again.

Doubles.

“No!” he cried, falling back onto the floor. His hands fell over his face. “Do your worst!”

On the other side of the table, Kristin and Philza couldn’t help but laugh as Techno slowly maneuvered Tommy’s place into jail.

“Okay, mate. The worst of it is done,” Phil replied.

Tommy sat up. He had been expecting this to take longer, or be more painful, or anything . Glancing at the board, and trying to ignore the others' laughter, he saw that his piece was sitting innocently in jail.

“ Huh !?” he exclaimed. His eyebrows pulled together and his mouth screwed up. Tommy was utterly confused.

Beside him, Wilbur kept laughing. The older man keeled over, bent at his waist, with his face pressed into Tommy’s shoulder. He held Tommy’s arm still, but it shook and shuddered the more Wilbur laughed.

The whole table was roaring with laughter, even Technoblade, who usually kept his glee slightly restrained. Eventually, they calmed down, but Tommy remained confused. Wilbur’s face was still pressed into his arm, and full-body shudders raked through his body occasionally. He was still being laughed at.

“Mate…” Phil said softly. “The only thing getting doubles can do is put you in jail.”

“Oh.” And then. “WHAT THE HELL!? THAT’S NOT FAIR. I DON’T WANNA BE IN JAIL.”

More laughter bubbled up from Wilbur, who banged his head against Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy couldn’t keep his grin off his face, and he passed along the dice to be out of the spotlight. Somehow, he didn’t think that it had really left him.

Why were they still looking at him? Was there more that he had to do? He had been put in jail before, and usually, once you’re in, that’s the end of your turn. Was something different when you went in for doubles? His smile dropped, and a frown replaced it.

“Keep smilin’, Tommy,” Techno grumbled. “Smiles belong on your face.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What did Techno mean?

Kristen explained, “We don’t want you upset, Tommy. It’s nice to see you happy, so keep smiling.”

“Oh.” A shy smile graced his face.

It stayed there for the rest of the game, through dinner, and the rest of the evening. He couldn't believe that they wanted him to keep smiling, to be happy. It was a little… refreshing, or maybe it was making him more anxious than he already was because now he had to smile. Either way, he didn’t mind! Tommy would smile for them if they wanted him to.

An hour into the game of Monopoly, Kristin had been pulled into bankruptcy after a long-winded battle between her and Technoblade. She watched them play for a bit, having moved to the actual couch instead of just leaning against it. In the middle of Wilbur’s turn, Wilbur’s stomach growled loudly.

“You hungry?” Kristin wondered, an eyebrow raised.

“What do you think?” Wilbur countered huffily. Kristin’s eyebrow rose higher steadily.

“You wanna try that again, mister?”

“Dearest Mother, please—oh, please!—make dinner. Your most handsome adopted child is starving!”

She tapped her chin, a shameless grin on her face. “I’ll think about it.” Kristin turned to Tommy then. “Are you hungry?”

Tommy blinked, glancing from Wilbur to Kristin. Phil had the dice now, and he and Techno were focused on the game, the other two were simply looking to him for an answer. He kept his gaze on Wilbur for a second, and the man’s eyes softened.

He thought about his answer for a minute because even though he knew what the right answer was, they seemed to want him to say what he was really thinking.

“Uh… yeah. I guess I am,” Tommy answered after another minute. His stomach growled just thinking about food.

Kristin and Wilbur chuckled at him as blush flooded his face. The boys’ mother stood and said, “Well, then, I better get right on it if Tommy-honey is hungry!”

And as she walked away and into the kitchen, Tommy couldn’t help that his face flushed even more. He pressed his lips together in an attempt to hide his smile and pressed his head into the coffee table.

Technoblade patted his back and Wilbur’s hand landed in his hair to tousle it.

“It’s your turn, Tommy-honey,” Techno murmured beside his ear.

He let out a strangled noise at his friend’s words, knowing that he said it just to embarrass him.

Tommy rolled the dice silently. The blush covering his face was not fading, but a pout rested on his lips. This was torture. He moved his piece and passed the dice on. The rest of the room was quiet, too. All he could hear was the quiet breaths from Wilbur and Techno on either side of him, the clanking of pots from Kristin in the kitchen, and the sound the dice made when they hit the table.

It ended when the numbers Wilbur had rolled were revealed. A 3 and 6. 9.

There was a beat of silence. “LET’S GOOO!” Wilbur cheered, outrageously loud. He had just landed on free parking, where money had been collecting since the beginning of the game.

Outrage broke out.

Phil was screeching. Tommy was sure he was yelling something or another, but even he didn’t know what, and Technoblade and Wilbur were arguing over it all.

Eventually, Wilbur got the money and the game continued.

Tommy was the next to go, and Technoblade soon followed; leaving Wilbur and Phil the only two still playing. By then, Kristin had brought dinner to them in the living room and they all ate while the game continued.

The meal was absolutely divine. Kristin’s cooking ability lived up to that of Guy Fieri’s and Gordon Ramsay’s. Not that he had ever tried any of their food before. He would be too poor even if he got the chance to be remotely near them.

In fact, Tommy was sure that it was better than both of their cooking. Phil had shown him the video of Gordon Ramsay making a grilled cheese. He knew how much of a failure that man was.

He watched intently as the game continued, munching away at his food. Tommy was surprised when he brought his fork to his mouth expecting more of that delicious taste, but all he got was the taste of metal. Frowning, he glanced down at his plate. He had, apparently, finished off his food.

“Want more, Tommy?” Kristin asked him, standing up and reaching out her hand for Tommy’s bowl. Had she been watching him?

“Uh…” he hummed dumbly. “If that’s okay? I wouldn’t mind seconds.”

Kristin smiled as she took his bowl. “I’ll get you some. And don’t worry about asking for too much, we have plenty . Those two”—she gestured to her sons—“constantly eat us out of house and home, so we always make a lot. They can spare an extra serving for you.”

“Well, I don’t want to take any food from them…”

“You won’t be. Pretty sure they need to slim down some anyway.” She pointed at their stomachs. “If they weren’t wearing shirts you would just see roll after roll…”

“Mother, if I lifted my shirt, you’d see my ripplin’ abs. Wilbur on the other hand… well, you might be right about that one,” Techno commented. “Mom’s right though, Tommy. You can have more.”

Kristin walked away, calling back at him, “Yeah, I’m getting you more!”

“Eh? Okay…”

She returned quickly, holding Tommy’s plate now full of food. Instead of returning to her seat, she sat beside Tommy after handing him his plate. They watched as the game continued, together this time.

Finally, the game ended.

Wilbur was left in tears lying on the ground—his feet somehow ended up in Tommy’s lap—and Philza stood over him, laughing loudly. The Monopoly board had pushed off the side of the coffee table and the pieces and money and cards were scattered across the carpet. The living room was a disaster.

“Noooo…” Wilbur cried, pulling his hands down his face.

“Your failure was the result of your own creation,” Techno said simply, shrugging and standing up. He stretched and collected all of the dishes left in the room.

Tommy was quick to offer to help but was denied even faster.

“Techno’s right, Wil. Now, get your ass up and get some popcorn poppin’. And please, stop making up rules that end up making you lose,” Phil added.

“Ooh! Popcorn?”

“Yeah,” Kristin said, “we were planning on doing popcorn and ice cream with a movie. Does that sound good, Tommy?”

“What kind of ice cream?” he wondered.

They laughed, but he couldn’t understand why.

“That was a sure enough answer.”

“I don’t understand what you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it, hun.” Kristin kissed the crown of Tommy’s head, and he blushed a mad red. Not seeming to realize the effect she had on him, she got to her knees and took Phil’s hand to help her up off the floor.

As Tommy overthought Kristin’s actions, he also hoped that they had mint chip ice cream. That stuff was good .

Chapter Text

Wilbur melted when he saw Tommy’s face as he ran out to their car when they picked him up. He melted again as he watched a star-struck expression come upon the boy’s face as Wilbur showed him around the house. And again, he melted when he saw the kid beam as they brought out the ice cream.

Apparently, mint chip was Tommy’s favorite, and Techno just so happened to have randomly selected it while grocery shopping. Wilbur would be sure to thank his brother when he got the chance. He couldn’t understand why his twin had gotten that flavor either; it wasn’t any of their favorites, and Technoblade certainly didn’t know Tommy’s favorite flavor—he would’ve at least bragged about it to him if he had found out.

Tommy finished off the first bowl Kristin set in front of him in record-breaking time, and then the second. He only breathed after polishing off that second bowl, and he leaned back in his chair with a happy grin.

“Do you want thirds?” Phil asked wondrously.

“Am I allowed thirds?” Tommy retorted, blinking at Wilbur’s father.

“Why wouldn’t you be? I was the one who asked if you wanted more.”

He opened his mouth but had nothing to say. Looking down at his bowl and the drip on the side of it, Tommy wiped it up with his finger and licked it off. “Okay, then I’d like thirds.”

Phil smiled at him and plucked the bowl from in front of the blond. Wilbur was glad to see Tommy getting bolder and asking for more. It was a stark difference from the timid boy who tiptoed around them he had first ran into.

Techno took a seat on Tommy’s other side. His bowl was filled just over the brim with ice cream, and Wilbur rose an eyebrow at it.

“What?” Techno wondered, voice steadily rising in pitch. “You act as if you had any less than I’m havin’ now. N’ ya don’t even work out like I do!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Wilbur countered.

Phil placed Tommy’s, now full, bowl back in front of him. He and his wife took a seat across from Tommy and Techno at the table, each with a bowl of their own.

“Oh!” Kristin exclaimed after a single bite of ice cream. “I forgot, but Tommy, we’ve got some presents for you.”

“Huh? Why?” Tommy wondered, looking utterly bewildered.

“Our family gives gifts at the end of every school year,” Wilbur explained. “You just finished your year, right? So you get presents.”

“You guys just finished too! Was I supposed to bring something?”

“No, no, honey! You’re fine. These two get presents from their grandparents, friends, whoever. Not just us, so they have more than enough,” Phil went on.

Tommy thought for a moment. “Okay…” he began, “but I’m bringing you all presents when I see you guys next.”

All Wilbur wanted to say was that him being with them now was present enough.

“So…” Tommy grinned. “What presents do you have for me?”

And they were all blinded by that bright smile.

“I-I’ll go get ‘em,” Techno stuttered out, rushing out of the kitchen. The presents were stashed underneath their parents’ bed, so it was going to be a minute before Technoblade was back, Wilbur knew.

He dropped his head into his arms and tried to quell his heart. It was more than reasonable for him to assume that it was clenched so tightly it would burst. Wilbur could not have Tommy smiling like that anymore, if only to save him from future heart failure. Within his arms, he also hid his own smile. He knew it was ridiculously dopey, and he knew he looked like an absolute fool. There was no way he could let Tommy see this side of him. The boy had to think of him as cool! He had to, at least, be better than Technoblade.

“Wilbur?” Tommy said. A finger poked at Wilbur’s head, and then a hand burrowed itself in Wilbur’s curly hair. He tensed up. “Woah… It’s softer than expected! I thought it’d feel like a hairy butt.”

Wilbur couldn’t help but choke, raising his head to cough as Tommy’s hand fell out of his hair. Around him, he heard the raucous laughter of his parents, and he was utterly mortified by Tommy’s words.

“What is wrong with you!?” he exclaimed after clearing his throat enough that he could speak. “This implies you’ve felt a hairy butt before. Would you like to explain, Tommy Innit?”

The pure glee in Tommy’s eyes showed that he was not backing down.

“Of course, I’ve touched several butts in my time. The hairy one was, by far, the most unpleasant, though.”

“You have a problem with hairy butts?” Techno asked, coming back into the kitchen with four small to medium-sized presents in his hands. One fell out of his hands and onto the floor. He stared down at it with a horrified expression, glancing back up at them with the same look.

“That wasn’t mine, was it?” Kristin worried.

Techno picked up and shook it. “No, not yours. Pretty sure it was Phil’s.”

Philza sighed, “Just set them on the table before you drop more…”

Suddenly, the hairy butt conversation was ignored in favor of all the magnificent presents sitting in front of Tommy’s eyes. Wilbur was almost worried that Tommy hadn’t seen so many presents before based on the way he looked at them, but he had to have.

It’d be a crime to not get this sweetheart presents!

“Well… go on. Open them,” Wilbur murmured. Seeing Tommy like this seemed to satiate him. His usual chaotic, overbearing personality had been put on hold. A much more calm and domestic disposition had called into the station.

“Ooh!” Kristin exclaimed, balling up her fists in excitement. “You’ve got to open mine first.” She pressed one of the packages into Tommy’s hands.

He looked at it curiously, turning it over in his hands but careful not to shake it because of the earlier warning that hers was fragile. Philza put his hand on Tommy’s shoulders, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed to finally pull at the bow of the gift. It fell away, and Tommy began to carefully tear away the wrapping paper.

It was, by far, the slowest a gift had ever been unwrapped in the Minecraft-Soot house. Wilbur and Techno (and Phil and Kristin, as well) rarely did things slowly, and opening presents was no different. He felt almost anxious as he watched each piece of wrapping paper fall away from the cardboard box and drift to the floor.

Wilbur almost wanted to scream at Tommy and say: “Pick up the pace! I want to see your face when you see what she got for you!” He kept his thoughts to himself, however, and instead wrapped an arm around his brother, tugging him closer. Techno lifted a hand up to his shoulder and that was enough for Wilbur to know that Techno was thinking the same things he was.

Finally, the final piece of wrapping paper was pulled off the box, and Phil handed Tommy a pair of scissors so he could cut the tape keeping the box shut.

“Is this a… mug?” Tommy wondered, holding it up.

“Yeah! I went to the ceramics center and made it. By the way, those are dogs on the side, not obese cows. Don’t listen to Wilbur,” Kristin explained. “I have not quite yet mastered the art of making clay mugs…”

“So, you made it?”

“Yeah!”

He smiled broadly. “Wow, I wish I could do something even close to as amazing and creative as this. Thank you, Kristin! I don’t know when I’m gonna be able to use it though…”

“You can keep it here if you’d like,” Phil butted in, “use it while you’re here and stuff.” Phil was obviously not saying his true intentions. Of course, there was something he (they) got from this, too.

Tommy would be obligated to come over to their house if there was an incentive.

“Alright…” Tommy set the homemade mug to the side as the wrapping in front of him was cleared away and replaced with a new package, but he continued to look at it intently. He seemed to like it to an almost insane degree.

Wilbur didn’t entirely get it. Sure, it was… cute. The deformed “dogs” on the side and the lumpy, brilliant blue clay certainly gave it character, but he never expected it to be such a hit with the boy. He was starting to rethink his gift if this was how Tommy was reacting to the mug.

The next to be opened was Technoblade’s. It was wrapped in pale pink paper that matched Techno’s hair and had hand-drawn flowers on it. Wilbur had been forced into drawing them, and it took way longer than he’d like to admit. It didn’t help that he was shit at anything art-related, and Techno yelled at him anytime he accidentally put four petals on a flower instead of five. He then made Wilbur start over with a completely blank piece of wrapping paper.

He still couldn’t figure out why Techno insisted on doing that.

Tommy pulled off the wrapping paper carefully, yet Wilbur still cringed as he watched one of the flowers he drew tear. All of his hard work… wasted. He pulled the gift from the wrapping paper, finding a card with it. Tommy set the card to the side and instead stared, memorized by the cassette tape he held. In neat handwriting (Kristin’s), it read “Blitz” on the label card.

“It’s my own song,” Techno said proudly. He then immediately blushed, bashful. “I have another gift for you too; this one was more of a gag gift. I’ll give it to ya later, though.”

“A-another?” Tommy stammered. “Just one is more than enough! Although… I think I could accept another.”

Techno quirked a smile, and gestured to the card left forgotten on the table. “Aren’t ya gonna open that?”

Tommy’s eyes immediately darted to the card. He picked it up less than a second later and had it pried open in even less time. His eyes flickered across the paper, reading it slowly. They stood nervously around him, waiting. His family usually read cards aloud when they got them unless told otherwise. The silence was thick.

A grin pulled at Wilbur’s lips as Tommy finished reading and looked up at Technoblade with the brightest eyes imaginable and a wide smile. He jumped to his feet and wrapped his scrawny arms around Techno. His twin didn’t seem to know what to do with his own arms, but they finally settled around Tommy.

Muffled in Techno’s shirt, Tommy said, “Thank you…”

Techno patted the boy’s shoulder awkwardly. “No problem, kid. You deserve it.”

Tommy returned to his chair and another gift was set in front of him. Wilbur’s. Or, well, one of Wilbur’s… He, like Technoblade, had gotten Tommy more than one gift because he simply couldn’t resist. There was nothing stopping him other than his card declining, and he didn’t need to worry about that happening.

Wilbur’s wrapping job was… poor, to say the least. He already sucked at wrapping presents, but the gift he had chosen hadn’t exactly made it any easier.

Tommy wasted no time in unwrapping the gift, seeming to have lost his previous hesitance as each present came and went. Soon, there was a stuffed raccoon in Tommy’s arms that he was hugging aggressively.

“I LOVE IT!” he cried.

Wilbur practically ran to engulf the boy in a hug, scooping both him and the raccoon up. It was like a hug inception.

“I had a feeling you would like it. It reminded me of you!” Wilbur explained.

Tommy deadpanned at him. “A raccoon reminded you of me?” Any previous joy had evaporated from his expression.

“Yeah.” Wilbur smirked. “It looks just like you.” It didn’t. It actually reminded him of Tommy because of the time he had told Wilbur that, occasionally, for fun, he’d go dumpster diving. You know, like any regular teenager.

“Rude bastard! You look like a… uh- A BASTARD!”

“We use nice words here,” Phil said quietly. A complete lie.

Everyone ignored him.

He tried again with, “Alright, why don’t you unwrap the last one?”

Tommy’s attention was dragged away from insulting Wilbur at the mention of another gift. Of course, the last one was from Phil. He set it in front of Tommy and waited anxiously for him to unwrap it. Removing the wrapping paper revealed a cardboard box, so Kristin handed Tommy the scissors with a reminder to be careful.

He peered into the box and blinked slowly, bringing out the first item. It was a key.

“What’s this?” Tommy wondered, nervosity curled around each word. “What’s it for?”

“It’s… Well, it’s the key to this house. One of them, I mean,” Phil explained carefully.

“Why… would you give this to me? I don’t need a key, I don’t… live here.”

Phil smiled gently, and the others watched with anticipation. Tommy didn’t necessarily have to accept the gift. “We just wanted you to know that the house is always open to you. Come by whenever you want. Come by if you need somewhere to be. Come by if you want to see us.”

“Come by when you don’t want to see us, too!” Wilbur exclaimed.

“I… can’t accept this… I can’t- it’s your house. Taking this would be infringing on your privacy!”

The room felt so soft, Wilbur thought that he might be able to melt into the floor. Kristin said, “You don’t have to accept it.” A gentle smile seemed permanently ingrained on her face.

“I can’t,” Tommy decided with a finality Wilbur had never heard from him. Wilbur was almost proud of him for rejecting the present.

He handed the key back to Philza, who looked dejected but still hopeful.

“That’s okay. If you ever do want it, the offer still stands. Now, there are more presents still in the box,” Phil replied gently.

Tommy blinked, surprised, and pushed one of the flaps back down. Sure enough, there were still several other items in the box.

“Woah…” he gasped, holding up three embroidered patches.

“I…” Phil laughed in embarrassment, “wasn’t sure which to get, so I got them all!”

They were bought to adorn Tommy’s jacket, and the box still held four more pins.

“These are really cool!” Tommy exclaimed, setting the ones he had been holding down and picking up the pins. He set them to the side, too, after admiring them. “There’s still more?”

Phil nodded enthusiastically. “I really wasn’t sure what to get you!”

Techno chuckled under his breath. The twins knew that this wasn’t even half of it. Their dad still had several other things in his closet that he wanted to give to Tommy, but they had barred him from doing it all in one go because Tommy was sure to get overwhelmed. Expectedly, Tommy was overwhelmed with just this amount of presents. There was no telling what would’ve happened had they gone all out.

The next, and final, thing Tommy pulled out of the box was a picture frame. In it, was a picture of Tommy, Wilbur, and Technoblade smiling joyfully at the camera, or well, in the direction of the camera. Wilbur had no recollection of Phil ever taking this picture.

“When did you take this?” Tommy wondered, smiling at the picture nonetheless.

“Oh, you know… not too horribly long ago,” Phil answered.

So it seemed Phil didn’t remember either.

He propped it up and stared at it. “Thanks,” Tommy said eventually. “This was… the best birthday I’ve ever had. Thank you.”

And his voice was getting watery and soft, and there was nothing Wilbur could do besides wrap him up in a hug.

“We’ll make next year’s even better,” Techno promised, a hand resting on Tommy’s head. “N’ it’ll actually be on your birthday.”

“Next year?”

“‘Course.”

Tommy nodded into Wilbur’s chest. “Right, next year.”

Behind Tommy, Wilbur saw Phil quickly wipe at his eyes. “Alright, boys!” he then exclaimed, as if he hadn’t been crying two seconds before. “How about we put on some pajamas and watch a movie?”

“I’ll make some popcorn,” Kristin said, still hugging Phil from behind. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and scooted over to the microwave.

“C’mon, Tommy,” Wilbur called, pulling away from the hug and latching his hand onto the boy’s wrist. “You’re about to get Techno’s other gift for you.”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” his brother mentioned, raising his eyebrows.

As Wilbur pulled Tommy out of the kitchen, Techno raced ahead, taking off up the stairs. He grinned, Tommy was going to love this final gift. By the time they had gotten upstairs, Techno had already brought a polka-dotted gift bag into Wilbur’s bedroom, where all of Tommy’s things had been put when he first arrived.

“You want me to open this now?” Tommy wondered. “Why don’t we do this after the movie? I don’t want to keep Phil and Kristin waiting.”

“No can do, Tommy,” Techno drawled. “This is of the utmost importance.”

“Really?” Tommy raised his eyebrows skeptically, and Wilbur couldn’t help but almost burst out laughing. He had never seen that expression on his friend’s face before.

“Yes,” Wilbur said with a finality that he didn't know he possessed. “Open it.”

Sighing, Tommy pulled open the gift bag, tossed the shimmery gold tissue paper on the floor, and pulled out a set of the ugliest pajamas known to man.

When he turned back around to face Wilbur and his brother, they were already holding up their matching sets. This time, Wilbur let an abrasive laugh out as Tommy’s expression shifted between disgusted, mortified, and the tiniest bit of glee.

Technoblade had fucking gotten them matching pajamas with green stripes and fedora-wearing zebras on them. A genius decision, of course.

Wilbur reckoned that the three of them stood there for two minutes just laughing. Well, he and Techno were laughing, Tommy was simply dumbfounded, which, of course, made it ten times funnier.

Eventually, Phil poked his head into the room, curious about all the noise they were making. When he saw what was in each of their hands, his curiosity immediately shifted into something of disgust.

“Put on those stupid pajamas and get downstairs. Kristin’s already finished with the popcorn and has got her pajamas on. We’re just waiting on you three idiots,” he sighed. With that, he left the doorway and plodded down the stairs.

Mood utterly destroyed, Wilbur groaned. A giggle tickled at his throat still, but he stuffed it under words. “Alright… Why don’t you go back to your room to change, Techno? I’ll change in the bathroom, and Tommy can change in here.”

The three of them agreed and quickly got changed. Wilbur had struggled to get his pants off while changing, so he was the last one to arrive in the living room.

“What are we watching?” he wondered, sliding onto the couch beside Tommy.

“ Moana !” Tommy exclaimed.

Chapter Text

Tommy didn’t know how he managed it, but somehow, Mother never realized that Tommy had been gone. He considered it a success, but a part of his brain was rather disappointed she didn’t notice.

Now that it was summer break and the sleepover had passed, he had no reason to be going to the library. However, his room now had pieces and hints of Techno and Wilbur and Kristin and Phil in each of the presents they gave him, so each time he saw the raccoon stuffed animal or listened to Technoblade’s cassette tape, he couldn’t help but want . The first time he noticed the yearning, he acted on it and decided to go to the library to see his friends. That was a week after the sleepover.

He ignored it sometimes, but it was hard to. Most of the time, Tommy would end up at the library before his heart started to hurt.

Mother often forgot when school ended, but at some point, she realized that it had finished up and brought him into the dining room to talk about his grades. She was proud of his improvement and also said that she would be picking up a few more hours at work since it was summer now and they were busier than usual. Of course, this gave ample time for Tommy to not be around the house.

Last summer’s Tommy would never imagine this summer’s Tommy ever leaving the house without letting Mother know just because she wasn’t around. Luckily, he wasn’t last summer’s Tommy anymore.

Still, there were times when Tommy simply couldn’t go to the library, even if he wanted to.

And that was because the library was closed.

It was 7 PM on some Sunday in June. 

Tommy was lying on the hard, surely moldy carpet of his bedroom because he spilled his dinner all over his bed and it seeped into his mattress. He was having a great time! He had discovered a secret colony of dust bunnies and trash underneath his bed and had found at least three spiders in varying states of motherhood.

It felt cruel to murder them though, so he let them live. He figured he could tape his mouth shut at night so they wouldn’t crawl in by mistake.

He sorely missed his friends though. They were much warmer than the floor, and he was pretty sure if he laid on the floor of their house, it wouldn’t feel quite so uncomfortable. Tommy thought back to the time they told him he was welcome at their house whenever, but quickly dismissed it.

There was no way he could just arrive unannounced at their home! How rude, how uncalled for. Even if he did let them know he was coming over, it was late, and if Mother found out he left the house, he’d be in trouble. Big trouble.

He sat up and sighed. Moping was no fun, but what was he supposed to do?

Well… he could go over to their house. He had two legs, he had a good sense of direction, and he could definitely figure out how to get there! Tommy could even text Wilbur beforehand to tell him that he’s coming over and that… would not be coming over unannounced.

No.

Tommy shook his head aggressively. He could wait this feeling out. It wouldn’t hurt him, and it would probably make him a more well-rounded person. That sounds like something Mother would say. Mother would be furious if she ever found out about any of this, but, hey, if he turned this into a lesson for himself, maybe the hurt wouldn’t hurt so much.

If Mother ever did find out, it would be like a death wish. Tommy should quit while he’s ahead.

He rolled over onto his stomach, staring at the wood floor a nose’s length away from his eyes. It felt like he was on drugs. There’s no way he should be wanting something so badly like this! If Tommy knew one thing, it was that drugs were bad, addictions were bad, this was bad. It wasn’t something Mother had taught him, of course; his middle school math teacher loved to preach about all of those things. He was pretty sure that lady was in a cult, though, so could she really be trusted?

He flipped over onto his side, pulling his knees up to his chest. Tommy wondered if the dust bunnies underneath his bed had formed a secret society. Maybe they were plotting against him.

Maybe those sirens were the dust bunnies’ war cries. A dusty bunny war… fun. He sat up because the sirens were not getting any quieter like a police car just passing by, and it was really starting to hurt his ears.

Wincing, he crawled over to where his Walkman was sitting on the floor beside his bed. Once they covered his ears, he turned it on, letting whatever he had been listening to last flood his senses. However, they weren’t exactly soundproof, and the loud sirens still pierced his ears.

A vibration shook the house, and he latched onto his mattress. The house had never been particularly sound, if there was an earthquake, this might be it for Tommy Innit. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that it would only last a second, and sure enough, it was over just as quickly as it had started.

Instead, there were thuds beneath him that shook the house. Again, the house wasn’t exactly the most stable thing. Tommy deemed it safe enough, though, and crawled away from his bed. He kept a tight hold of his Sony Walkman. When he reached the door of his bedroom, he reached up for the doorknob and pulled it open. It squeaked loudly, and the thuds stopped for a moment before continuing. Tommy stood after deciding that this earthquake wasn’t strong enough to displace him while he was standing.

He glanced down the stairs and was caught in a stare-down. There was a police officer dressed all in black with one of those clear shields staring back at him. A gun was held carefully in his left hand.

The man unfroze a second later, but Tommy was still stuck in his place, eyes wide and glued to the man who had invaded his home. “Put your hands up where I can see them!” the police officer demanded.

Tommy easily complied, scared out of his mind.

The officer climbed up the rest of the stairs and approached him slowly. “Please remove your headphones slowly and put your device on the floor. Slide them away.”

Again, Tommy complied. He pressed pause on the Sony Walkman (now playing “Here Comes The Sun”) and gently set them on the floor, pushing them two arms’ lengths away from him with his foot. He returned his hands to where they were above his head.

His sock snagged on a splinter on the wooden floor though, and he was left standing with his feet uncomfortably far apart and a splinter digging painfully into the sole of his foot.

The officer mumbled into his walkie-talkie or whatever, glancing back and forth from Tommy to the receiver. He stopped for a moment and placed it back on his waist.

“Who are you..?” he mumbled.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at him as if asking if he was asking him. He swore that he had “the right to remain silent” or whatever, but he didn’t think he did anything wrong, so he supposed he could answer.

“I’m Tommy Innit… I live here,” he answered, quietly and slowly.

“You… live here?”

“Yeah? Why else would I be here? Can I put my hands down now, they’re starting to go numb?”

“Uh… sure… Could you come downstairs with me? We need to bring you into the station so we can question you.”

Tommy sighed. “I’d love to, honest, but my sock’s kinda caught on the floor.” He would not love to go with the officer, and he would definitely not love to go to the police station, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He was pretty sure Mother had said something or another about avoiding the police, but he didn’t really remember. He sent a silent apology to her and hoped that when he saw her next, there wouldn’t be too big of a punishment in store for him.

The cop smiled awkwardly at him. “Then, take it off or something, kid. My superiors might not appreciate this, but you don’t seem particularly dangerous to me. If you’d like to get a new sock you’re welcome to,” he said.

And Tommy did because that sock was holey enough as it was, and his toes were getting a little cold. A new sock (one with two fewer holes!) was a great idea.

Now that his sock was changed, he turned back to the police officer, who was glancing around Tommy’s room. Tommy hoped that he didn’t have anything suspicious out, he didn’t own much, and he didn’t think any of it was particularly suspicious, but maybe something one of his friends gave him was suspicious. He really hoped that they hadn’t given him a weapon in disguise or something because he definitely would never have noticed that.

A second later, the officer was walking behind him down the stairs, gun and shield still in hand.

When they reached the bottom of the steps, Tommy saw several police officers looking around his house. Some glanced their way as they passed through the house to the front door, and others didn’t even notice them. What had happened?

The officer led him through his house silently. Once they were outside, he was ushered past several other police officers and into the back of a police car.

“Now, we are not going to cuff you, but that doesn’t mean we won’t if you cause any trouble,” the same police officer said while buckling Tommy in as was, apparently, procedure. “Thank you for cooperating thus far; another officer will drive you over to the station.”

Tommy nodded softly. The officer offered him a sort of smile and pushed the door shut.

He squirmed in his seat. It was hard plastic, unlike any other car he had ever been in. This new police officer arrived at her car a few minutes later with her partner, another woman. Neither said a word to him or each other as they pulled away from his house. He was beginning to wonder if they even knew he was there.

The radio stayed off, the talking was nonexistent, and the seat was the most uncomfortable thing he had ever sat on. Tommy wanted to go back home and lay on his bedroom floor again.

He didn’t know how far away from the police station was; he had never been there before, but they traveled on streets he had walked along hundreds of times before. Tesco wasn’t busy as they passed by it, and Tommy almost wished he was there getting groceries. It always seemed to be so busy when he went, maybe he needed to switch what time he went.

Apparently, the police station was only a block past the local Tesco, and apparently, Tommy had walked past it more times than he could count. He never realized that was what a police station looked like.

He was led inside by the two officers and brought to an all-concrete room. A metal table was bolted to the floor along with the two chairs that sat facing each other. He was sat into one of them by one of the police officers.

They left after that. Not a word had been spoken by the two in the time that Tommy had been with them. Not to him. Not to each other. He couldn’t bear the silence, and now he was stuck in it by himself. He stared at himself in the mirror across from him. From what he knew about interrogation rooms (all of his information had been gathered from the police dramas he could sometimes hear Mother watching downstairs), the mirror was double-sided, and there was probably somebody watching him from the other side.

He shuddered.

The door to the room opened and a decently tall man walked in. He took a seat in the other chair and set the file he was holding down on the table between them.

Finally, the man’s eyes rose to meet Tommy’s.

He grinned, stuck out his hand, and said, “Nice to meet you. I’m Schlatt.”

Tommy shook the hand he was offered slowly.

“I’ll be interrogating you today,” Schlatt continued, “but don’t be too nervous. I don’t think you have anything to be worried about. Unless… there is something for you to be worried about!

“...There wouldn’t happen to be anything you’d like to confess before we start, right?”

Alright, this guy was weird, even to Tommy’s standards, which had drastically changed since meeting the Minecraft-Soots, Tubbo, Ranboo, and Niki.

He shook his head. “Nothing that I can think of…” he replied nervously.

“Great! Let’s get started. You’re Tommy Innit, correct? Son of [Mother] Innit?”

“Yes.”

“How often is your mom home?”

Tommy thought for a moment. “Mother is home more often during the school year. She picks up extra hours during the summer, and I typically take care of the house since I’m home more than she is.”

“When you say you ‘take care of the house,’ what do you mean?”

“Y’know… the usual stuff. I clean up, cook for myself—and Mother if I know she’s going to be home later in the day—get the groceries. That’s about it… when I’m home, I usually stay in my room.”

Schlatt marked something on the papers in front of him, and Tommy leaned forward to see what he was doing. He quickly picked it up, so Tommy couldn’t see it.

“Sorry, kid. You can’t read this stuff. It’s top secret police business,” he explained, huffing out a laugh. Once Tommy leaned back, he sat back on the table. “What do you do when you’re not at home?”

“Oh! I like going to the library most! I’ve made several friends there,” Tommy answered quickly.

“The Minecrafts’ library?”

“Yeah. Do you know them?”

Schlatt laughed. Real and full. “Kid, everybody knows them.” He paused for a moment before he asked his next question. “What does your mom do for work?”

Tommy gaped at him. “Uh… Why would I know? Why would Mother talk about her job with me?” What kind of parent talked about their job with their child? It wasn’t the child’s business. It would be disrespectful to ask Mother about her job considering how hard she worked to provide for the both of them. He was grateful for what he got, and there was no need to undermine Mother by asking her about her job.

He didn’t want to disrespect the police officer, but he sincerely hoped that Schlatt had never asked his parents about their jobs. He couldn’t imagine how long Schlatt would’ve been locked in his room for something that disrespectful.

“You don’t even know where she works?”

“No… Should I?”

“You’re fine! It’s not that big of a deal. Moving on… Does she have guests over frequently?”

“I mean, yeah… I’ve never met them before though. Speaking of which, they actually come home with her from work,” he replied. “I’m always in my room when that happens.”

Again, Schlatt wrote something down. He took a deep breath and let out a big sigh. “Kid, when was the last time you were in your garage?”

“What?” Tommy uttered. Why would a police officer care about his garage? Mother hadn’t used it in years, and Tommy couldn’t remember a time he had ever stepped foot in it. There was never a need to. It was filled with junk last he heard. “I dunno. It’s just junk, so I don’t go in there.”

“Your neighbor called us and reported that there were illegal drugs being sold and abused at your house,” Schlatt explained. Still, Tommy didn’t understand. “We conducted surveillance before finding enough evidence for a warrant, and then we found a time that we believed your mom was usually home to raid your house.

“We were unaware that the house had another occupant, and for that, I am sorry. The officers there found crack cocaine and meth in large quantities in your garage just as your neighbor had reported. [Mother] Innit was not there.”

Tommy was unmoving in that metal chair. His mouth hung open, his eyes stared at Schlatt’s left eyebrow. There was no way that Mother would ever have drugs.

Mother was a law-abiding citizen! She had never gotten a speeding ticket or gotten arrested, she hadn’t ever stolen either. If that wasn’t law-abiding, then Tommy didn’t know what was.

“That’s not true…” Tommy choked out.

Marginally, Schlatt’s eyes softened. “Sorry kid.”

“No! You’re lying! Mother wouldn’t do shit like that. You don’t know her like I do.”

“It’s not a matter of knowing her or not, Tommy. It’s against the law to be in possession of those drugs, and we have evidence.”

By then, he was in tears. They streamed down his face in ugly globs, sliding all the way to the bottom of his chin before dropping onto his legs.

Schlatt stood up and walked around to the other side of the table, where Tommy was seated. He kneeled down beside him and wrapped an arm over his shoulder. His hair tickled Tommy’s forehead, but it wasn’t enough to distract him.

He heaved out another sob and swung an arm out, trying to whack Schlatt’s hand off of him. The hand dropped away, but the officer remained right next to him.

“I’m sorry, Tommy…” Schlatt murmured.

When Tommy was all out of tears, he didn’t know how much time had passed, but Schlatt was still kneeling right beside him. At some point, his hand had come back up to rub at his back. It hadn’t been pushed off this time.

He let out a broken sigh. “What now?” he muttered.

“You’ve got some options…” Schlatt replied, remaining on the floor as Tommy looked down at him. “Usually, in these situations, you would be put into the foster care system or stay with another family member, but you don’t have any family anywhere around here. Foster care could work, but… considering you are 17 years old, you would age out of the system next year, so that’s obviously not ideal.

“Emancipation is another popular option, but it’ll take a while to get settled. The government would give you a monthly allowance until you’re 18 in that case. The only other option I would is really doable for you, is to stay with someone you know, trust, and would be able to house you. If you have any friends you know particularly well, something like that could work. Depending on the family, court might be required.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. He knew what he wanted. “I could… stay with a friend’s family?” he wondered. Had he heard the officer correctly?

“Yeah, if they’d be up to it.”

He thought of the Minecraft-Soot household and of each of the gifts he had been given for his birthday. His heartbeat picked up.

It was a possibility.

Tommy took shallow but even breaths. His thoughts ran a mile a minute through his head. He almost couldn’t believe his luck.

“Is that what you’d like to do if you’re able to?” Schlatt asked. He was standing now, leaning over the metal table with a pen in hand. It was poised above the documents that the officer had brought in with him.

What if they didn’t want him there? Sure, he was friends with them, but there was a difference between being friends and wanting someone at your house 24/7. Tommy would just be another mouth to feed, another money-waster, another annoyance. It would be just the same as it had been with Mother. He couldn’t let that happen.

He’d get a job.

He’d pay for his own food, and pay rent, too. Anything to get them to like him more. Tommy just wanted to be with them.

“Yeah,” he said firmly, swallowing any doubts. “Could I make a phone call?”

“To call your friend?”

Tommy nodded. He had stayed up at night memorizing all of their phone numbers when he couldn’t sleep. The bright screen of his phone glared down at his face from where he held it above him. The numbers were ingrained into his memory.

Schlatt motioned for Tommy to follow him and stood up, picking up the files, too. He was led out of the metal room and into the warm, wooden interior of the police station. Just down the hallway, there was a landline phone hanging from the wall.

They stopped in front of it, and Tommy lifted it off of the hook and began to type in each number of Philza’s phone number. He paused just before hitting the large “ENTER” button. Then, he pushed it.

The phone was already resting against his ear and it droned on as it rang. It kept on ringing. Phil hadn’t answered.

He pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it like it had done something wrong. His eyebrows were pulled together so aggressively, that he was sure that if Wilbur were there, he would’ve said that he’d have permanent wrinkles. Tommy would’ve said that Wilbur needed to worry about his own wrinkles.

Sighing, he tried Technoblade’s number next. He was pretty sure Kristin was out of town for work today and tomorrow, so she wouldn’t be able to help him out. Techno was more responsible than Wilbur, so he was the most logical next option. Again, he pressed each number in and brought the landline back up to his ear to listen to it ring.

This time, someone answered.

“Hullooo…” Techno mumbled in greeting. “Who is this?”

“Hi, Techno. It’s Tommy,” he replied, releasing a relieved sigh.

“Oh, wassup?”

Honestly, Tommy wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened. He hadn’t thought about what he was going to say at all, and sure, that might be partly his fault, but come on! There was a lot going on!

“Umm…” he began. “So, I’m at the police station right now…”

Technoblade screeched, “Did you get arrested!? Do I need to bail ya out!?” He paused. “Not to say that I wouldn’t—‘cuz I will—but I can’t imagine you doin’ anythin’ bad enough to warrant an arrest.”

“You didn’t let me finish…” Tommy sighed. “I need a place to stay. For a while. Like… possibly permanently.”

“Are you askin’ what I think you’re askin’?”

“Depends on what you’re thinking… Kristin or Philza are probably gonna have to come to the station though, I doubt you’d be allowed to confirm this.” Tommy stopped for a moment. “Oh, just in case you’re thinking like a fuckin’ idiot, I’m asking to stay at your house for an undisclosed period of time.”

Schlatt rose an eyebrow at him from where he stood waiting for him to finish up. He was leaning on the wall about two meters away. Tommy held up a single finger with a stern look, and Schlatt sighed silently and went back to staring at the opposite wall.

Tommy marveled at the power he held in just one finger.

“I kinda figured that one out,” Techno deadpanned. “But, yeah… I’ll go find Phil. Wilbur’s actually here too; he was listening in. I actually have him in a headlock right now so I could properly keep his mouth covered. He probably would be screamin’ his head off if I hadn’t taken these measures.”

“Good to know? You’re probably right, that sounds like Wilbur.”

“Anyway… we’ll be over as soon as possible.” Techno grunted and a loud slap was heard over the phone. “Can you please hang up now..? I’m in a bit of a difficult situation…”

And Tommy could only imagine.

“Alright, see you soon, Techno. Bye.”

Just before he could hang the phone back up to end the call, Wilbur’s voice came through the phone. “See you in a bit, Tommy! Just hold on a little bit longer and you’ll soon be with your favorite older brother.”

He hung up.

Older brother, huh?

“You okay, Tommy?” Schlatt wondered, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Did you get a place to stay?”

“Yeah… We’re all good,” Tommy replied. He didn’t know how to float, he had never even swam in a pool before, but he imagined that this was what it felt like.

His chest felt loose—empty—and he stared straight through Schlatt’s head. Tommy had never been this relaxed before.

“Let’s find you a place to sit down and wait…”

Chapter Text

Technoblade’s face stung, but he ignored it as he tried to find his keys underneath the endless stack of papers and books on his desk. Wilbur thought he was smart for scratching him, but little did he know that Techno was making dinner tomorrow.

He’d be sure to put cinnamon in Wilbur’s bowl of potato soup.

His brother had been tasked with finding Phil, who hadn’t been answering either of their calls or texts for the whole day.

More papers were shoved off of his desk in a graceless push. He glanced down at where his feet were originally; they were buried in crinkled paper now. It’d be a mess to sort through (again) once things had calmed down, but Techno had bigger problems.

At last, he found the keys and ran out of his room. He could hear Wilbur pounding through the house in search of Phil, and he took that time to text their mom. Kristin was at work, but she would still want to know what was going on.

The sounds stopped, and Techno looked up from his phone screen after pressing send on the text message. Wilbur stood in front of him breathing heavily.

“No luck?” Techno sighed.

“None,” Wilbur confessed.

He opened the front door and stepped out of the house. “Well, text Dad and tell him where we’re headed. We need to get a move on.”

Wilbur nodded and followed after him. They didn’t bother locking the house up, and instead quickly slid into Techno’s car.

He had driven the car two blocks away from their house before Techno managed to click his seatbelt into place. He gently reminded Wilbur to do the same.

It was silent in the car. Both twins had more thoughts than time to speak, but finally, halfway through the drive, Wilbur finally spoke.

“What do you think happened?” It was a quiet question, more of a whisper or a breath, than anything concrete.

“Do you think we actually wanna know?” Techno said in return. It had been on his mind since the phone call. What had happened?

Tommy was at the police station and needed a place to stay. They barely knew anything about his home life, but something had to have happened at home for him to need somewhere else to stay. Techno didn’t want to admit it, but he was almost thankful this had happened because, based on what he had heard from Tommy, there was nothing positive about his life at home. Tommy’s mother seemed to be some kind of omnipotent creature in the boy’s life and that didn’t sit right with Techno.

It reminded him all too much of his previous foster parents.

“I don’t know, Technoblade…” Wilbur sighed. “I’m just worried.”

“Me too, Wil. Me too.”

Techno’s index fingers tapped, tapped, tapped the steering wheel, and Wilbur’s left leg bounced. Eventually, they reached the police station.

He twisted the wheel quickly, foot barely on the brake as he swung the car into the closest parking space. Parallel parking was the dumbest thing ever invented.

Wilbur was screaming, and Techno pressed his foot down hard on the brake. The tires screeched as they slid. As soon as the car was in park, the twins were out of the car, slamming the doors shut behind them. They were in the building in a matter of seconds, leaving the car unlocked and poorly parked.

The man behind the desk was incredibly startled and gripped the armrests of his chair like a lifeline.

“Can I help you..?” he asked them softly.

Technoblade took long strides up to the counter, leaning both elbows onto it and peering down at the man. He looked long and hard at him.

“Yes,” he decided. “We’re here to pick Tommy Innit up?” Wilbur appeared by his side. “Any idea on where we might find ‘im?”

The officer pointed down a hallway with wide eyes, and the twins immediately followed his directions. Wilbur twisted around as they speed-walked the way they were pointed. He cupped his hand around his mouth and called, “Thank you!” before turning back around and taking an extra step to keep pace with his brother.

The hallway opened up into a larger room with dark, wooden-paneled walls and a tile floor. Several desks littered the room, and Tommy sat behind one of them. His chair was turned away from Technoblade and Wilbur, and it was instead turned toward another desk where a familiar person sat.

Schlatt.

He had been in the twins’ high school class, but he graduated a semester early and decided to become a police officer. Twice, Schlatt had pulled Wilbur over and given him a ticket.

It was he who saw them enter the room. He stood and waved them over.

Tommy spun around in his chair as they approached. As soon as he saw them, he flung himself out of the chair and ran at the twins. His entire body weight crashed into Techno’s chest as the boy jumped at him.

His arms hovered nervously around the boy’s frame. Although he grew up with a touchy brother, Techno was still not used to this kind of behavior. He also expected Tommy to throw himself at Wilbur, not him.

He glanced to the side, where Schlatt and Wilbur now stood standing together.

Techno’s eyes said, “What do I do?”

Wilbur’s said, “Figure it out yourself, idiot.”

Hesitantly, he let his arms fall around Tommy’s shoulders. He wrapped his body around the boy and pulled him closer. Tommy squeezed him tighter, and Techno pushed his face into the fluff of his blond hair. A soft sniffle met his ears.

“Hey there,” he mumbled into Tommy’s hair.

“Hey, Techno,” Tommy replied nasally.

He glanced up to find that Wilbur and Schlatt had wandered away to the desk Tommy had been sitting at before the twins had shown up. Their lips were moving, but Techno could not hear a word they said. It was probably on purpose, but he doubted that they speaking quietly because of him. His eyes landed on a couch pushed against the nearest wall.

“Let’s go sit down,” he suggested, already maneuvering Tommy’s body so that he could lift him and carry him over to the couch.

Tommy made a stilted noise in the back of his throat and flailed briefly as he was adjusted, but he easily relaxed as soon as he was settled in Techno’s arms. He was glad that he continued to go to the gym instead of giving up out of laziness.

Once they were settled on the ugly orange couch, Technoblade loosened his grip on Tommy and pulled the boy away from his chest. He sat with his legs lying across Techno's lap and his arms looped around his chest. It didn’t seem to be the most comfortable position, but Tommy chose it himself.

“Thanks…” Tommy murmured.

“Do… you wanna talk about it?” Techno replied.

“Not… really. Sorry. Maybe- maybe another time.” Tommy sighed and lifted a hand to rub at his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Tommy. It’s alright. When we get back home, we’ll all take showers and put on some movie, ‘kay? Chill night.” He paused, thought a moment, and continued. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

Tommy shook his head. “Not much—I spilled it, and there wasn’t much else I could’ve had.”

“That’s fine. I’ll make dinner—don’t trust Wilbur in the kitchen—and we can eat while watching a movie.”

He smiled and scooted completely off of Techno. Tommy still faced him, though, and he sat with his legs crossed underneath him with his head balancing on his hand, which balanced on his thigh. “Sounds like a plan.”

They waited a few more minutes, and soon, Wilbur and Schlatt approached them. Although, judging by the slight grimace on Wilbur’s face, it was nothing good. Techno groaned internally.

“We can’t bring you home until Phil or Kristin show up,” Wilbur started, staring at Tommy.

That wouldn’t be quite so bad if they actually knew where their parents were, or if their parents were actually answering them.

“And we can’t get ahold of ‘em,” Schlatt finished with a heavy sigh. “It’s gettin’ late, too, and the station closes at 11 PM. However… if the captain allows it, you guys could go home with Tommy tonight. You’d have to come back tomorrow—with Philza or Kristin—to work out the details, and if they still haven’t shown up, we’ll have to take custody of Tommy.

“I already talked to the captain, and he should be textin’ me soon with his decision. Sorry, boys, this is the best I could do.”

Tommy exhaled with his eyes squeezed shut and his eyebrows drawn together. Techno couldn’t imagine how frustrated he was. He comforted him the best he could and patted his knee. Tommy opened his eyes and offered him a brief smile.

“I’m really sorry, Tommy…” Wilbur mumbled, taking a seat on the other side of the boy. “I dunno why Mum and Dad aren’t answering us. I don’t even know where Dad is.”

“It’s alright, Wil,” Tommy said. “You tried, and I’m sure everything will work out better than it would have if I was still at my house—with Mother.” He looked pained to say it, and that just worried Techno more.

He could only imagine what had happened, and nothing he was imagining was anything good. No matter what, if he saw the woman Tommy called “Mother”, Techno would be sure to make it impossible for her to see the boy ever again. There was no way a decent mom could end up with her son in police custody and needing a place to stay permanently. She wasn’t even around to contest it.

Wilbur smiled grimly. “Whatever you say, Tommy…”

They sat in silence for several more minutes as Schlatt paced back in forth in front of them, staring at his phone. At last, he stopped and glanced up at them. Techno was already watching him.

“You’re good to go,” he said, smiling lightly. “Head on out now, it’s ‘bout time the station closes, and I don’t want to work any more overtime.”

“Thanks, Schlatt!” Wilbur exclaimed, jumping up and pulling Tommy up with him.

He stumbled after Wilbur with a yelp, and Techno gave a brief nod to Schlatt before quickly following after the two.

They were out of the police station and in the car within a minute. Wilbur pushed Tommy into the backseat, sliding in beside him. Technoblade sighed and got into the driver’s seat. He turned on the car.

“Ready to go?” he wondered, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“Yup!” Wilbur cheered, hand intertwined with Tommy’s and raised above both of their heads.

Tommy’s eyes were wide, and he met Techno’s through the rearview mirror. A slight smile graced his lips, and Techno shifted the car into drive.

He took his time driving this time; there was no rush to get anywhere now that Tommy was with them. He also didn’t want them to end up in a ditch somewhere or with an injured Tommy. That would have been the worst outcome. His twin chattered enough for the three of them, and his voice filled the whole car. It felt like there was sunshine enveloping Techno even as the sun had slipped past the horizon a long time ago.

The car rolled to a stop in front of their house. All of the lights were still on, and Techno didn’t even need to unlock the door to get in. Tommy side-eyed him as he twisted the knob and the door easily opened. He was clearly being judged.

Techno shrugged at him and held the door open as Wilbur shuffled in with Tommy close behind. When he pulled the door shut this time, he made sure that he had locked it. Whenever their parents came back, they could get in with their house key. Technoblade couldn’t have Tommy thinking that he was a thoughtless fool waiting to get robbed.

With his shoes off now, Tommy stood in the entryway shifting from one foot to the other. Wilbur had already moved farther into the house to use the bathroom, but Tommy glanced around anxiously like it was his first time at the house.

“Tommy?” Techno said after kicking off his shoes.

“Huh?” Tommy flinched, glancing back at Technoblade. “Wassup?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah… Um, sorry for intruding.”

“You’re not intruding,” he said simply. “C’mon, help me pick out what to make for dinner. After Wilbur’s outta the bathroom, you can go shower. He’ll drop some clothes off for you at the door.”

He gestured with his head towards the kitchen and went ahead without looking back. He could hear the soft patter of feet trailing behind him, and he knew that Tommy was following him. Opening the pantry, he glanced around the shadowed nook. There wasn’t much in it considering they typically got groceries on Mondays.

Tommy appeared at his side and peered over his shoulder. “Can we have mac?” he wondered.

“Mac n’ cheese?” Techno confirmed. Tommy nodded. “Sure.” He grabbed two boxes of the stuff out of the pantry and tossed them onto the counter. It would be quick and easy, and he could probably ask Wilbur to watch the pot if he needed to do something else. Techno would do his best to not need to do anything else though; he didn’t trust his twin that much.

He made Tommy sit at the counter while he scooted around the kitchen doing this and that. Techno collected a large pot from the cabinet and filled it up with water. He cranked the burner up to high before sitting on the stool beside Tommy and laying his head on the granite.

The water had just started to boil when the bathroom door squeaked open, and Wilbur entered the kitchen with dripping wet hair and the same clothes he had been wearing all day. His twin glanced at the counter. “Macaroni?”

Techno nodded and said, “Can you go get Tommy some clothes—and change into pajamas?” He turned to Tommy. “You can get in the shower now.”

Nodding, Tommy wandered out of the kitchen leaving Techno to make the mac and cheese. He dumped in the noodles after separating the cheese packets. Honestly, he couldn’t wait to eat. Technoblade was starving, and mac and cheese sounded ridiculously good. He probably hadn’t had it in at least two years because normally, if he needed a quick meal, he’d just make ramen noodles for himself. Kristin was actually the one who wanted the mac and cheese.

His twin returned a few minutes later with different clothes on. Wilbur slumped onto the counter.

“Don’t be useless now,” Techno said. “Find a movie to watch or somethin’. And don’t put on a dumb documentary. That’s not gonna…” Technoblade paused and leaned closer to his brother. “That’s not gonna make ‘im feel any better…” he whispered.

It was unnecessary; there was no one around but them, so they couldn’t have been overheard, but maybe, somehow, Techno’s voice would carry if he said it just a little bit louder. It would carry all the way to the bathroom where Tommy was showering, and he would hear him and get upset.

Wilbur sighed but nodded and stood. He stretched his arms above his head before trudging into the living room. He watched as his brother flopped onto the couch and reached lazily for the remote. The TV clicked on and his eyes remained fixed on it as he flicked through different shows.

He heard the water begin to boil again and whipped his head around. His feet carried him over to the stove, and Techno yanked the pot off of the burner to avoid the water and macaroni bubbling over. 

The noodles weren’t quite done, so he turned down the burner to medium before putting the pot back onto it.

They were done before Tommy was out of the bathroom, however, so Techno left them in the pot with a lid covering them while he got out bowls for the mac and cheese. He got out cups, too. A mug—to be filled with honey lemon tea—for him and a tall plastic cup for Wilbur and Tommy.

He didn’t trust them with glass.

Wilbur’s cup was filled with chocolate milk at his demand. Technoblade refused to bring it to him and told him he could get it himself when he got his food.

At long last, Tommy exited the bathroom, followed by a trail of steam. He shifted from foot to foot with both of the twins’ eyes on him. The clothes he had been wearing were cradled in his hands.

Now, Wilbur easily got up, took the clothes from Tommy, and brought them to the washing machine where they could be washed. He returned to Tommy’s side a second later, pulling him forward.

“C’mon!” he exclaimed. “Let’s get some macaroni.”

Tommy dutifully followed after Wilbur, and Techno brought up the rear behind them. They stood at the stove as Wilbur spooned noodles and cheese into a bowl Tommy held in between his hands. Techno stood at the counter and removed the tea bag from his mug. He glanced up.

“What would you like to drink, Tommy?”

The boy met his eyes. “Do… you have hot chocolate?” he wondered softly.

Techno blinked. “Yeah.” He brought the plastic cup he had gotten out for Tommy back to the cupboard and put it back. Instead, he reached for a mug.

His twin and Tommy went into the living room with their bowls (and one for Techno, too) while he finished making the hot chocolate. He joined them a minute later with the tea for him and the hot chocolate for Tommy in his hands. The lights in the room had already been dimmed, so he settled against the couch and hoped that Wilbur had at least picked something decent.

It turned out, he had nothing to worry about. Wilbur had picked Up , and Tommy was enamored with it.

Technoblade loved the movie, too, but he found himself watching Tommy’s face instead of Carl, Russell, and Dug on the screen. His face was so full of wonder and love, and Techno hoped that it was a sight he would continue to see for… a long time. When Up ended, Wilbur turned on another movie and pulled a throw blanket over the three of them.

Halfway through this movie, Tommy’s head hung in an uncomfortable-looking position above his shoulder. He had fallen asleep. The twins’ eyes met over his head, and they made a decision that was both unspoken and unanimous.

They shuffled around on the couch as quietly as they could, shifting Tommy’s body between each other until they were positive they could all be comfortable. In the end, Techno ended up with most of his brothers’ weights on top of him. It was oddly comfortable—being squished into the couch with two people lying on top of him.

“Good night…” Wilbur mumbled, his face pressed into Techno’s shoulder. He was sure he’d wake up with drool all over that sleeve in the morning.

“G’night,” he replied just as quietly. To Tommy, he whispered, “Sweet dreams.”

Chapter Text

Hi, my name is axo, and I have had the pleasure of writing MCYT fanfiction since 2020 (specifically SBI). But, my point is, that I have spent a very long time in this fandom, and I have now been put in a place I do not want to be in.

I really don't want to write this. I never thought I would need to.

I support Shubble. What Wilbur did is completely irrational and disgusting, and I cannot support someone who has abused and manipulated people. This is not something that is negotiable.

Now, as a writer, my feelings complicate. I have always written c!Wilbur in a positive light because that was my view of him. I can no longer think that. As much as I would love to be able to separate the character from the creator in this situation, I don't think I can in a way that would make me feel good about myself. This situation is also not about myself or about any of you. It's about Shubble and her abuser. So, I can't continue to write fanfiction featuring any form of Wilbur in good faith.

For this, I am sorry. I'm inconsistent in posting, and this fic is so close to being over with, but I seriously don't think I will be able to finish it. 

I should mention that I understand other authors' viewpoints on this as well. MCYT has long been a comfort to me, but as you can probably tell by my inconsistency in posting, it is not as much of a hyperfixation for me anymore. To those who can separate the character from the creator, I applaud you. I cannot.

Regarding TISGAOS, it will stay up for now. I will decide soon whether to delete it, so I recommend downloading it or something now just in case. If I do decide to delete it, I'll delete it a week from now (currently February 27th). If you enjoyed my other MCYT works, download them as well because those will definitely be deleted.

Thank you so much for all of your support. The kudos, bookmarks, hits, subscriptions, and comments mean the world to me! I love you all. <3

I'm sorry.

This is not the end of my writing career here. If you seriously like my writing and want to continue to support me, there are other things I have been working on! My other interests include: Haikyuu!!, Sk8, other anime, and possibly some webcomics and manhua/manhwa. I have a Haikyuu!! fic in the works and can't wait to post it!

In conclusion, TISGAOS and my other works will stay up for another week before I delete them (except for TISGAOS currently). Support Shubble, and please give me your thoughts in the comments, but be polite and kind to the situation and me. I am a person too.

feeling things too, axosunee
(this is completely unedited, so I'm sorry if things are confusing and don't make sense. please ask me any questions you have in the comments.)

EDIT: I forgot to mention I will be deleting my Twitter, too! I've been meaning to get away from there and now is as good a time as any.

EDIT 2 (March 2nd): I have instead decided to orphan all of my works. :)