Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I wonder, I wonder, what you would do if you had the power at night to dream any dream you wanted to dream. And you would of course be able to alter your time-sense, and slip say seventy-five years of subjective time into eight hours of sleep.

You would, I suppose, start out by fulfilling all your wishes. You could design for yourself what would be the most ecstatic life. Love affairs, banquets, dancing girls. Wonderful journeys, gardens, music beyond belief! And then after a couple months of this sort of thing at seventy-five years a night you’ll be getting a little uh, taste for something different. And you would move over to an adventurous dimension were there are certain dangers involved, and the thrill of dealing with dangers. And you could rescue princesses from dragons, and go on dangerous journeys. Make wonderful explosions and blow them up. Eventually get into contests with enemies.

And after you’ve done that for some time, you think up a new wrinkle. To forget that you were dreaming, so you would think it was all for real. And to be anxious about it. And then- because it would be so great when you woke up!

And then you say ‘well,’ like children who dare each other on things, ‘how far out could you get? What could you take? What dimension of being lost, of abandonment of your power, what dimension of that could you stand?’ You could ask yourself this because you knew you’d eventually wake up.

And after you’ve gone on doing this you see for some time you would suddenly find yourselves sitting around in this room. With all your personal involvements, problems, etcetera, uh, talking with me. How do you know that’s not what you’re doing? Could be, because after all what would you do if you were god?”

“…For if you were god, and in the sense that you knew everything and you were completely transparent to yourself through and through, you would be bored!”

“…If you awaken from this illusion… you can feel yourself. Not as a stranger in the world, not as something here on probation, not as something that has arrived here by fluke, but you can begin to feel your own existence as absolutely fundamental.

And finally, you would dream where you are now. You would dream the dream of living the life that you are actually living today. That would be within the infinite multiplicity of the choices you would have. Of playing that you weren’t God. Because the whole nature of the godhead, according to this idea, is to play that he’s not.

So in this idea, then, everybody is fundamentally the ultimate reality. Not God in a politically kingly sense, but God in the sense of being the self, the deep-down basic whatever there is.  And you’re all that, only you’re pretending you’re not.”

—Alan Watts ‘Wake up, it’s a Dream’

Chapter Text

Busses had to be the most idiotic form of travel ever created. They were loud, smelly, and riding inside of one felt like the worst kind of roller coaster ride. The kind where most of the thrill is just waiting for the metal railing beneath the car to give way from lack of maintenance.

Tommy didn’t understand why aunt Kris couldn’t just drive him to school like literally every other normal kid. Instead he was stuck with the weirdos who’s parents were too busy or didn’t care enough to drop them off themselves.

Or- really, ideally he would have his own car to drive himself around, what with him being nearly eighteen at that point. But Tommy knew his aunt could barely afford the car they did have, so there was no way he was going to ask her to borrow it, or god forbid ask for one of his own. No, if he wanted a car he was going to have to get a job and pay for it himself.

Thus… the bus.

The deathtrap was filled to the brim with the sounds of yelling and chaos. Crumpled paper projectiles flew through the air. Hair was pulled, feet were kicked, and the grating high-pitched shouts from cracking voices— don’t get him wrong, Tommy loved a bit of rough housing, he was a tough guy that could take on anything those fuckers threw his way, but the guys on this bus… weren’t his kind of crowd.

Today though was an especially weird day, because the usual bus driver, Brian, wasn’t the one who levered the doors open for him as he stood on the pavement of his regular stop. Instead of a middle-aged man with scruffy black thinning hair and a scruffier beard, a young wide-eyed stranger stared back at him.

Brian never smiled, just opened the doors and let his eyes glance over Tommy the same way they glanced over every other kid, glazed over as though they were invisible. The guy in front of him did not to that. In fact, he almost appeared to beam at Tommy in an entirely off-putting way, not to mention he wasn’t even dressed in the driver’s uniform Brian always wore. He looked way too young to be driving a bus full of high schoolers around. He looked like a high schooler. Or… maybe a college student. ‘Fact was he was being fucking weird, and Tommy decided the moment they met eyes he didn’t like the guy one bit.

No matter. In all the half-a-second it took for the doors to open and for Tommy to take in the confusion, form all his suspicions about the driver, he had already climbed the steep steps into the bus and passed by without another thought. Instead he chose to focus his energy on not getting nailed in the face with a flying paper plane, shoe, or spit-ball.

He managed to find a seat near the middle (nerds sit in the front, creeps sit in the back, middle is neutral territory) where he could slide down and pretend he didn’t exist for a few blissful minutes before they inevitably ended up at the front gates of hell, or as some would call it, high school.

He was a senior now, which made riding the bus that much more embarrassing. Finals were in full swing and he was praying to simply glide through the rest of the year, study hard and keep his head down in order to evade the boys who thought punching someone repeatedly in the nose counted as comedy.

The poor kid they’d ‘told that joke’ to had ended up going to the hospital, and the guy who did it had to take… maybe a week out on suspension? That was it. Pretty sure broke-nose kid was being homeschooled now.

Sometimes Tommy wondered if being homeschooled would’ve been better than public school. All the horror stories he’d heard about kids being labelled as ‘weird’ and ‘other’ though convinced him that the latter was the better option in terms of social graces. Even if it meant he had to ride the bus with at least three future axe murderers.

The sky outside was overcast as it normally was. And as the ride continued rain began to patter down on the windows. The red stop lights shone through the front windows, and the weirdo guy driving them to school turned on the wipers to clear his view of the road. He quickly turned his eyes downward again, not wanting to accidentally make eye contact with someone and start a fight he did not feel like finishing.

He pulled one leg up onto the bus seat and rested his chin on his knee as they continued down another residential street to pick up more kids. He could tell where the bus stop was thanks to the roof of colorful umbrellas huddled together on the sidewalk, at least a dozen kids standing in the rain waiting to for the bus to arrive. He watched with half-closed eyes as they filed onto the bus one at a time, taking note of the final umbrella. Yellow with black flecks around the edge, some design he couldn’t quite make out through the rain.

His heart rate spiked when he realized that- with a dozen more kids were getting on the bus… he was going to be forced to share a seat with someone. There were a few empty seats left, some of the kids getting on the bus had friends to sit next to, so for the most part Tommy was mercifully ignored, that was, until the last spare seat was filled… with one kid still remaining.

It was Yellow Umbrella Tommy noticed, and he subconsciously leaned toward the hallway in order to catch a glimpse of the brightly colored umbrella, if only to figure out what the black-spotty pattern on it really was. Unfortunately for him, his motion must’ve been mistaken for an invitation to sit, because the boy’s face lit up in relief and he quickly made his way to Tommy’s seat.

“Thanks man.” He sighed, shaking his umbrella out in the hallway and watching as water dribbled to the floor. “I really didn’t want to have to sit in the back again.”

The black speckles all around the edge weren’t dots at all, but in fact were tiny bees.

Great. Amazing. This was just- well… maybe if he just ignored the guy he’d take the hint and leave Tommy alone for the remainder of the trip.

“My name’s Tubbo by the way.” He said cheerily, unrelenting to Tommy’s very obvious discomfort at their current situation. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“Mate, it’s final week. Could you maybe just drop it?” Tommy muttered as he continued to stare out the window, his shoulders tensed up to his ears. What kind of name was ‘Tubbo’ anyways?

“Oh,” Tubbo said, sounding crushed. Tommy had enough decency in him to feel at least a little bit sorry for him. “Sorry man, didn’t mean anything by it.”

“’S fine… just tired, y’know.” Tommy replied, trying at the very least to assure the guy that it wasn’t his fault Tommy was being a dick.

He got his wish. The rest if the ride was spent in silence… at least, between the two of them. The rest of the bus was still shrouded in a thick layer of chaos and noise. But somehow with Tubbo filling the space between Tommy and the walkway, the world seemed quieter. Less intense, and a bit more isolated. He sort of enjoyed the faux-calm that settled between them.

Tubbo pulled out an old-school hand held video game and stuck a pair of headphones in. Tommy wished he still had his mp3 player, but last week one of the rock-headed axe murderers grabbed his headphones and swung the thing around like a lasso until the mp3 player was flung into the distance, likely crushed under the tread of a passing car tire.

He didn’t bother telling his aunt. She worked hard for the bth of them as it was, and it wasn’t her fault he’d gone and lost it. He shouldn’t have brought something that valuable out where the nimrods could get their hands on it.

Tubbo’s stop was the last on their route, so when the bus came to a halt for the final time, Tommy knew where they were. He sighed heavily and grabbed his backpack from where he’d shoved it under his seat, not wanting it to get stolen again, and waited for all the other kids to cram their way toward the door before he stood up and walked down the empty walkway.

“Hey!”

Tommy practically jumped, spinning on his heel in surprise and coming face to face with the weirdly young bus driver.

“Sorry.” He apologized sheepishly after a beat of silence, seeing how he’d reacted. “Didn’t mean to scare you, but you dropped this.”

The guy was American, which only added to Tommy’s newly founded hatred of him. He glanced down at the guys hand and noticed that he was holding-

“A Rubik’s cube?” He muttered, raising a brow.

“Uh- yeah, it’s yours isn’t it?” He asked, holding it out toward Tommy an inch further.

Tommy paused for a moment, thinking this through.

On one hand, the toy wasn’t his. He shouldn’t take it, even if the bus driver was handing it to him. After all, it wasn’t his.

On the other… his mp3 player was broken. He didn’t have anything to occupy his time while he was in class, or at lunch, and especially on the ride home. Besides… he’d always wanted to try solving one of those.

“Yeah, thanks.” He muttered quickly, taking the toy from the guy’s hand and tucking it into the side-pocket of his backpack. “Must’ve slipped out.”

“Must have.” He agreed, chuckling softly. “I’m Karl, by the way. And you’re… Tommy?”

Tommy froze, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as they both stared at one another. Sensing his unease, Karl laughed softly and pointed to his sight shoulder. “Your backpack’s got your name on it.”

Tommy groaned and grabbed the shoulder strap of his bag where his aunt had embroidered his name in bright red block letters his freshman year, his face turning a similar shade. “Uh- heh, yeah, uhm- s-see you later.” He stammered, practically running off the bus in order to escape that painfully embarrassing situation. Rain pattered on his head and shoulders as Tommy grimaced and grabbed his backpack, holding it over his head before he began running toward the main building.

Morning classes passed like a dull ache, like molasses. Tommy felt like he’d been sitting for a decade, and he was only in his second period. Already his attention was flagging.

There should be a law prohibiting schools from forcing kids to learn algebra before noon. His was not absorbing any of the information the teacher was drilling into him. He was almost certain the same could be said for the rest of his classmates as well.

Quietly so as to not garner unwanted attention, he reached back and slid the (stolen?) Rubik’s cube from his backpack pocket, holding it under his desk in both hands. He couldn’t very well attempt to solve it like this, but he could at the very least spin the sides idly, something to keep his hands occupied.

Abruptly the bell rang, sounding the end of Algebra and the beginning of Tommy’s lunch period. He suddenly sat up in surprise, glancing at the clock that hung above the whiteboard. Sure enough, it read twelve-thirty… but he could’ve sworn there was still at least another half hour of class left when he’d glanced at the clock five minutes ago. He’d been daydreaming for a lot longer than he realized.

Not wanting to waste any more time he grabbed his bag from the back of his chair and followed the rest of his class into the hall, ignoring his teacher’s calls and reminders to do their homework over the weekend. It was Friday after all, he could cram it in before the morning bell on Monday.

He meshed into the crowd with practiced ease as they headed toward the cafeteria in a mass. For some reason as he took a seat at one of the round tables, he thought of the kid from the bus ride, Tubbo, and the Rubik’s cube that the weird bus driver gave him, thinking it was his. He stared down at the thing in this hands, spinning its sides idly as he waited for his turn to grab a tray. There was already a line of green squares lined up on one side, so he didn’t try changing that too much, instead focusing on the opposite side which was only randomness.

It was Tubbo’s Rubik’s cube, if he had to make a guess. He probably left it on the seat, it got caught on Tommy’s backpack, and fell off as they both left, then Karl picked it up and offered it back to him because Tubbo had been walking in front of him. That made the most sense in his head at least.

Well, he’d get an opportunity to give it back at the end of the day. As long as Tubbo was also taking the bus home. Some kids had rides for after school, but not before. Maybe he was one of those kids. And… well, he’d never noticed him before. Maybe today was a fluke and Tubbo had just needed a one-time bus ride.

Well- worst case scenario he could toss it into the school’s lost and found at the end of the day. No harm done. Besides, if he hadn’t taken it Karl might have kept it, or thrown it away. No, it was good that he took it. Tubbo wouldn’t mind if he kept a close eye on to for him, right?

One of the teachers called his side of the cafeteria to get their trays, so he hurried to the line, taking the toy with him. It was like those fidget toys he saw freshman carrying around. He spun the sides idly, looking down every so often to see if he’d made a new pattern. He could try solving it while he ate.

The remainder of the day passed in a strange sort of blur. Normally Tommy was used to not remembering the specifics of his days at school. Every class, every teacher, every student blended together into an indiscernible mass in his mind. But today… He could’ve sworn they’d already read chapter 7. And wasn’t the book supposed to be called ‘Into The Wild’, not ‘Onto the Wild’? He could’ve sworn Mr. Beats’ name was spelled B-A-T-E-S yesterday, and his biology teacher… had she suddenly gained an American accent overnight, or was she just trying to be funny? But… no one else seemed surprised.

All in all it had been a troublingly odd day, and it was fair to say he was more than ready to go home and pretend that none of it ever happened, let his mind drift aimlessly over the weekend while he played Minecraft and listened to the radio, since his mp3 player was broken. And lost. And he refused to ask for a new one.

Tubbo was not on the bus when Tommy stepped onto it at the end of the day, confirming his suspicions that the kid probably had a ride to pick him up at the end of the day. No matter, he could give it back on the morning bus ride on Monday. For now, the weekend was upon him, and he was bound and determined to spend the entirety of it in total darkness, hiding up in his room playing Minecraft for forty-eight hours straight.

The bus rides home were always a less chaotic than in the morning. Everyone, even the insane future axe-murderers were exhausted after dealing with classes all day. He was fairly confident that nothing major was going to happen on the ride home, so he allowed himself to sit up a bit straighter and gaze out the window, turning his brain off.

Ten minutes later, he was aware enough to blink himself back into existence as the bus stopped on his street, a few other kids piling out with him and immediately scattering the moment they stepped off the bus. It was still sprinkling from above, but Tommy didn’t have an umbrella, so he was just going to have to deal with damp hair when he got home. He could grab a towel from the guest bathroom and scrub at his hair while watching some YouTube video on the couch.

That was the plan, he could practically see himself there now, and the image in his head only spurred him to move forward faster. But something wasn’t quite right as he continued down the sidewalk.

Glancing at the houses around him, he knew that this was his block. His neighborhood. That was his left-side neighbor’s dog barking, their dull yellow house with the wooden porch, and across the street was the same old blue house that always sat there. No one lived in it, and Tommy was half-convinced the place was haunted, but then… where was…

He stopped walking, his skin suddenly feeling prickly and ice-cold despite the muggy, almost warm fall air.

He did his best to control his breathing as he stared up the driveway, his nails digging into the meat of his palms as they tightened into anxious fists.

This… was his driveway. There was no doubt about it, the crack in the pavement from where he’d cracked his helmet falling off his bike, the same old dandelions that had been there when he left that morning… it was all there.

But the house that sat at the end of the drive was not his house.

Chapter Text

He stared at the wooden numbers fixed to the right of the front door, reading ‘1567’. That was his aunt’s address. That was his house’s number, but her house was a one-story brown brick building with two large front facing windows on either side of the main door. The house in front of him now was two stories tall, dusty blue siding with a garage on one side and a porch on the other. The front door was painted deep red with a big window, and a doorbell.

Easy. Take it easy. One foot in front of the other, Tom. He began to slowly walk up the concrete steps of this foreign building that sat where a familiar one should be. The bushes along the path were were too big, too neat, too green. His aunt didn’t have time to do yard yard work, and not enough money to pay a landscaper. They never even had bushes. The lawn was neatly cut, there were flowers- flowers in pots on the porch! Who’s house was this?! Where had his aunt’s house gone?!

He staggered backwards suddenly as his heart began to really race, the full brunt of the oddity before him finally clicking in his mind. However, by the time he began to wrap his head around what was happening he had already stepped onto the porch. Backing away was a poor choice on his reflexes’s part. His heel hit open air as he stepped off the stairs, and he gasped as his back hit the pavement with a loud thud, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

’My house is gone’, he thought hollowly as he stared up at the sky, his lungs refusing to take in air. This was his driveway, on his street, with all his neighbors, and his bus stop, and everything was right but it wasn’t his house.

He could vaguely register the sound of a door opening and closing nearby, a muffled voice calling out from the direction of his feet, but he was still having trouble getting air into his lungs and he was pretty sure if he didn’t start breathing soon he was going to pass out, because his heart was beating way too fast-

“…—ommy? Tom… —ear me? You’re alright, just breathe.” Someone said to his left, causing Tommy to flinch violently in the opposite direction. A sound he didn’t entirely intend to make escaped his throat at that moment. Something wounded and terrified that must’ve scared whoever was next to him bad enough that they called for someone else for help too.

’No no no no no, no more people, I don’t want there to be any more people-‘ He pled internally as he tried to push himself to his feet. He only managed to turn onto his side and push himself up onto one elbow, further frightening whoever was next to him.

“Tommy! Tommy Tommy-“ How did he know his NAME?! “-just wait, wait wait, Techno is coming. You’re going to be fine-“ Who the hell was ‘Techno’?!

Suddenly there was another pair of feet running toward them. He’d finally managed to get his lungs working again, and dragged a long terrified gasp inward as he staggered to his feet with a heaving chest and shaking hands.

Who were these two guys?! How did they know him?! What did they want with him?!

“Tommy, what’s wrong? What happened?” The first, tall with brown hair, asked as he too stood up. And- Okay, yeah, looking at him now Tommy was definitely not going to be able to overpower the guy. Especially not both of them if they managed to get the jump on him. He’d have to really sprint if he wanted a chance at getting away, and if his lungs had anything to say about it, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

The other one, nearly as tall as the first but built wider with long pink hair stood at the end of the walkway that led to the porch, his eyes wide and surprised as Tommy backed away from the two of them. Tommy noticed that they both wore glasses.

“I heard a thump outside and when I came out he was just- passed out on the pavement!” The first explained, taking a step toward Tommy but backing off instantly when he saw the way the younger boy tensed and lowered himself, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

“Tommy.” The pink one said, his voice full of command and familiarity with his name that made Tommy’s skin crawl because it sounded so foreign and unnatural coming from his mouth. Tommy had never heard that voice before, but he spoke his name like he’d known him for years. “Calm down, whatever’s happening we can fix it inside. Let’s get you cleaned up, I’ll check your head over-“

“NO!!” He screamed, scrambling backwards as they both stepped toward him. At the noise, they both staggered back, twin looks of shock mirrored on their faces. Even Tommy was surprised at the amount of sheer terror he managed to concentrate into one word.

“Don’t- don’t don’t- Don’t touch me!! Don’t fucking touch me!!” He spat with venom. He wasn’t going anywhere with either of these guys. What kind of idiot did they take him for?! Sure he was a kid, but he wasn’t stupid. “Who told you my name?!” He asked, glaring between the two of them. “Who the fuck are you?!”

Now it was their turn to look confused, both of the strangers wore matching expressions that bordered on near panic at Tommy’s words. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction at the sight. Good. They should panic, because Tommy was onto their sick scheme, this was all a trick, and they were-

“Tommy, how hard did you hit your head when you fell?” The first one asked, his words coming slowly as if speaking to a wild animal, or a toddler throwing a tantrum. The latter made Tommy’s skin crawl. He wasn’t a child. He wasn’t going to let them harass him.

They were both moving toward him again, and so he scrambled further back, the proximity making him more and more uneasy. They were nearly at the end of the driveway now. “Don’t- n-neither of you come near me, alright?! What is going on, and- And where’s my house?!”

That question caught the pink one by surprise, glancing back at the house behind them as if to check it was still there.

“…Behind us?” He replied, phrasing it more like a question than an answer.

Tommy shook his head fervently back and forth, sending a glare toward the offending building. “That is not my house.” The brown-haired one laughed, more from surprise than anything else, though his expression turned serious moments later when he saw the seriousness in Tommy’s own. “I live with my aunt Kris.” He began explaining, taking another step backwards. “Her house was here b-because this is her address. This is my neighborhood, and-“

A lump formed in his throat as he spoke, hopelessness and fear gripping him as he stared at the house, and then at the two strangers in front of him. Damnit, he didn’t want to cry in front of strangers, but he was having some kind of mental breakdown or crisis at the moment, and they weren’t helping. “This isn’t my house!!” He sobbed, dragging a deep breath in.

The two older boys glanced at one another worriedly, and Tommy saw the pink one mouth the words ‘Aunt Kris?’ to the other, who shook his head in confusion before they looked at Tommy, who was now openly crying as his eyes darted between the two of them. The brown haired one was close enough that he rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, and despite the situation he couldn’t find the strength to push it away.

“…Tommy.” He whispered. “You’re hurt. You fell really really hard on the pavement. This is scary, but I promise you that Techno and I would never, not in a million years even think about hurting you in any way, shape, or form. This house is safe for you. It belongs to yo-… -my dad, his name’s Phil. He’s not home, but he’s very very nice and I know he’d want you to be safe.”

Tommy was still sobbing as he listened, his lip quivering as he gasped for air, but by the time he was done he managed a small nod. A relent, which seemed to relax both the older boys immediately.

He was then ushered carefully toward the front door. He could hear the brown haired guy mutter ‘call dad, tell him to come home now’ to the other before helping Tommy up the steps. His hands ghosted over Tommy’s shoulder and arm at first, but when he noticed the he was no longer instantly flinching away, he gently grasped Tommy’s upper arm to offer him some stability, which the younger boy hesitantly accepted.

Looking inside the open doorway of the house felt wrong. This was a stranger’s home, and he was an uninvited guest. The entry way felt dark and cold. Instinctively he pushed against the gentle hand on his back just as they were about to step through the doorway, staring into the room within.

“It’s going to be okay.” The stranger behind him reassured. “We’re just going to the downstairs bathroom to check your head, make sure you’re not bleeding. After that we can sit outside again, if you want.”

Tommy thought about the offer for a few seconds. He hadn’t hit his head when he fell, but… his hands were scraped up something fierce, and he was pretty sure his back was bruised around his shoulders where he’d taken the brunt of the hit. He nodded slowly, allowing himself to be led through the entry way.

A large mirror hung on the wall to his right with a thin tall wooden table beneath. It was covered in small framed photos, discarded mail, and several pairs of keys. Beneath the table was a shoe rack piled high with all sorts of things: sneakers, boots, house slippers, men’s dress shoes. The left side was bare, likely because it the door opened into that wall. A rug slid haphazardly on the floor beneath his feet, and the stranger instinctively tightened his grip on Tommy’s arm as they walked over it onto the dark wood floor, likely anticipating its slickness when Tommy wouldn’t have known to brace himself.

Tommy once again hesitated at they stood at the mouth of the entry way, looking deeper into the house. To his left was a set of carpeted stairs, one leading up to the second floor, the other leading down to a basement. Ahead on their left was another door, probably the bathroom he was being led to. To his right was a hall with two large open archways connecting what looked like a kitchen to a living room with a couch and a large television mounted to the wall.

“The bathroom’s this way.” He instructed as Tommy paused, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings. They walked forward together and he reached forward over Tommy’s shoulder to push the door open, flicking the light on before guiding Tommy in and gesturing for him to take a seat on the closed toilet against the left wall. “I’ll grab the first aid stuff from upstairs. Gonna be okay for a minute?”

Tommy blinked in surprise, but nodded mutely which was enough of an indication to the other that he did indeed leave, even leaving the door open behind him. Tommy could hear his socked feet running up the carpeted stairs, and beyond that back in the entry, the pink haired guy’s voice was muttering lowly, probably on the phone with the brown-haired guy’s dad, Phil.

“…-’s head, we’re not sure what’s going- …… -needs you to come home. He was in the driveway crying, saying that the house wasn’t ‘his’ house… yeah. …Yes, yeah, we did. …He seems fine other than that, Wilbur was- …… -steps, he walked just fine. …Yeah, we’ll see you soon.”

Wilbur must be the name of the other guy Tommy noted in his head. And pink-hair was Techno. Techno, Wilbur, and Phil.

He fidgeted with his hands as he sat, waiting for ‘Wilbur’ to come back with the first aid supplies. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long as the sound of returning feet ran back down the stairs and around the corner. Then he was there in the doorway, holding a white plastic box in one hand.

“Hey,” He said, slightly out of breath from running. “Still doing okay?” Tommy nodded again, which made him sigh quietly in relief. “Good- so, let’s have a look at your head.”

“Didn’t hit my head.” He explained meekly, holding out his hands instead. “But I scraped my hands up on your driveway.”

“I-“ Wilbur paused, his eyes widening at the sight of Tommy’s torn palms. Blood beaded along the deep scrapes as white skin stuck up around them like the edges of a ripped paper. “Jesus fuck- a-alright.” He muttered quietly, reaching forward and taking one of Tommy’s hands in his to examine it closer. “I’ll clean these up. But first I need to look at your head, okay?”

“But I didn’t hit my head.” Tommy said again, more insistent this time. But Wilbur was ignoring him now. He stood up and motioned for Tommy to turn around, which he begrudgingly obliged to do. He could still hear the pink guy- Techno -out in the living room area talking on the phone.

“How old are you?” He asked as Wilbur prodded at his head.

“…Twenty-four.” He replied after a beat of hesitation. “Why?”

“Just was wondering if your dad would actually be okay with you bringing a strange kid into your house without him knowing.” He half-joked. At least Wilbur wasn’t a teenager who could get in really bad trouble for doing something as stupid as that.

Wilbur only chuckled. “Trust me, he’s not going to mind.” He ran his fingers through Tommy’s hair once more, brushing his thumb over a few different areas. “…Well, you’re not bleeding. Does this hurt at all?”

“Nope.” Tommy replied as he shook his head, simultaneously telling Wilbur he was fine, and was also done having his hair touched. “Like I told you, I didn’t hit my head. I just fell because I was freaking out about your… this house n-not being my house.” He explained, knowing he sounded crazy. Wilbur probably thought he was insane.

However he only ‘hmm’ed in response as he knelt down in front of Tommy once more, taking out a few cotton pads and a bottle of disinfectant from the kit. He reached for Tommy’s hand which he provided silently, hissing a bit through his teeth when the alcohol touched his scraped palm.

“I swear I’m telling the truth. This morning I left my aunts house to go to school, and I got back and now… this house is here. This is my address, but…” He trailed off.

“What’s your aunt like?” Wilbur asked as he cleaned Tommy’s other hand.

“She takes care of me. My parents divorced when I was super little. My dad was unfit to take care of kids and my mom died in a car accident about a year after that. I was two or three, so I don’t remember too much about her.”

For some reason Wilbur looked paler the longer Tommy kept talking, his eyes wide as he listened. He’d paused bandaging Tommy’s other hand, so he twitched his fingers lightly, making him resume. “Yeah?” He asked, his voice cracking in the middle of the word. “So… you like living with your aunt?”

He shrugged. “I’ve always lived with her. I guess so? She buys me video games sometimes, and we get take out food and watch movies on weekends, but she works a lot so I don’t see her during the week since I’m at school, and she works late. I’m usually asleep when she leaves in the morning, and before she gets home.”

Wilbur hummed again, though he was frowning now as he finished bandaging Tommy’s hands. “…Well… Your head’s fine, your hands are fixed up, are you hurt anywhere else?”

“My back hurts.” He offered with a small shrug. “That’s where I hit the ground the hardest.”

“Let’s see.” Wilbur muttered softly as though he were only half-listening, standing back up and walking around behind Tommy. “Lift your shirt?”

He did, and he couldn’t help but wince as Wilbur very lightly grazed a thumb near the edge of his spine. “Y-yeah- uhm, that hurts.”

Immediately the hand lifted from his back. “Sorry, right. Uh- you’ve got a real nasty bruise forming, it’d be a good idea to lay down with ice on it, it might get bad otherwise.”

“Sure.” He said with a nod, pulling his shirt back down. He tried not to panic at the thought of… not knowing where he was going to go after this. The school would be able to help, they’d be able to call his aunt, she’d come pick him up and they’d go home, and the house would be there, and this entire experience would be some crazy fever dream he’d forget about by next week.

He went to stand back up, raising a brow when Wilbur let out a small gasp, his hands hovering behind him.

“What?” He asked, turning toward him with a raised brow. “I’m alright. I’m not going to fall.”

“Where are you going?” He asked, his hands still half-hovered between them, not fully trusting Tommy on his own.

“I’ve got to get back to the school so I can get a hold of my aunt Kris, she’s got to be looking for me by now and that’s the first place she’s going to check. I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on, but I need to get home.” He explained as he stepped toward the bathroom door.

“Just- just wait a little bit.” Wilbur said. “I- you… uh- Techno?“ He called loudly all of a sudden, giving Tommy a worried glanced before sticking his head out the bathroom door. “Techno, can you come here for a sec?” More socked footsteps, and then Techno was at the door too, peeking inside the small bathroom at Tommy. “I- uh, can I talk to you for a second?” He muttered quickly, pushing Techno backwards as he held up a finger toward Tommy. “Just- hang on a second, alright?”

Tommy blinked once, his face morphing into confusion as the bathroom door was shut in front of him, muffled voices from the other side speaking rapidly in a near frantic way, though their words were so hushed he couldn’t discern anything in particular from it.

A moment or so after that the for opened once more, the two looking at him with that same unease in their eyes, a strange sort of hesitancy that Tommy didn’t like one bit.

“Uh, dad- I called our dad, and he was hoping you’d stick around until he got home so he can look you over too. He’s a doctor so, you know, he’s just worried.”

Tommy shook his head as he side-stepped around the two taller boys, emerging into the main hallway of the house once more. “I’m sorry, I can’t wait that long. Aunt Kris has got to be worried about me by now, I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Oh it won’t be long now! He’s on his way home.” Wilbur insisted.

Techno nodded in agreement. “I called him a couple minutes ago and by the time we hung up he was already in his car, he’s got to be close by now, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

Tommy looked between the two of them skeptically, his face giving away the precise emotion he was feeling. “…You two still think I got a concussion falling off your front steps?”

“No.”
 “Yeah.”

Wilbur and Techno glance at one another with an almost pained expression shared between them before they glanced back at Tommy who stood a few feet away with a raised brow.

“…I’m really alright, thank you, but I’ve got to get going now or it’s going to be dark by the time I get back to the-“

The sound of a car door slamming shut cut him off as all three of the boys looked toward the still-open front door where the side of a small silver car could be seen parked just around the side of the house, a man with long blonde hair bustling up the steps with a pale expression on his face.

Techno surged forward in an instant and raced to pull the door open fully, allowing the older man to step straight into the house without a moment’s pause. Tommy could only assume this must be Phil.

Wilbur looked back, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Oh thank god- dad, please help me out here.” He sighed, side-stepping out of the way as Phil approached their small group with Techno right behind him.

Techno stopped him for only half a second, grabbing the blonde’s shoulder and whispering something in his ear which Phil nodded to, before letting go.

“Hey mate.” He said quietly, finally addressing Tommy himself. They stood in front of one another, a pleasant smile on Phil’s face while Tommy looked up at him with complete neutrality. “I bet you’re really confused right now.”

He nodded, though he didn’t like the childish tone Phil used with him. He didn’t like being talked to as if he were a six year old, and so he sent a scowl in Phil’s direction to show his displeasure. Phil’s face stayed professionally gracious, completely open and focused on him.

“My name is Phil, and these are my two sons Wilbur and Techno.” He gestured to either of the boys that stood behind him, a kind, almost amused smile on his face as he introduced them each. “I’m sure they didn’t introduce themselves to you.”

Tommy shook his head, watching both the older boys look away sheepishly when he tried to meet their gazes. He turned his attention to Phil again.

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“…I’m-… in your house.” He answered hesitantly. “But this is where my house is supposed to be. This is my address.”

Phil nodded. “Yeah, you’re half right. This is your address. But this is also your house too.”

Even before he’d stopped talking Tommy was already shaking his head back and forth. How was he supposed to explain the situation he’d found himself in? How did these strangers supposedly know him, and where was his aunt, and his house?

“No, no no- this isn’t my house. I live with my aunt Kris.”

Phil nodded in understanding, attempting to calm Tommy’s near frantic ramble. “Okay, okay. Let’s talk about something else for a second then. We can go back to the house later. You talked to Wilbur and Techno, right?”

Tommy nodded, hunching his shoulders in toward himself. “Yeah, Wilbur was the one that found me when I fell, and Techno… um… he called you on the phone.”

“Good, that’s all right. You’re right.” Phil said, nodding encouragingly. “You remember a lot. That’s a good sign.”

“I didn’t hit my head.” He insisted weakly. His voice was starting to shake, and he held his hands tightly together between his legs as he spoke. “I swear I-… I’m not crazy. I woke up this mornin in my bedroom in my aunt’s house. I went to school, I walked home and n-now this place is here instead.”

“Hey, hey, let’s save all that for later okay? I don’t want t upset you.” Phil said gently, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Despite the alien nature of the situation he was finding himself in, Tommy couldn’t help but lean into the grounding touch. His eyes burned with brimming tears, but he nodded anyways.

“Did Techno or Wilbur take a look at your injuries? I heard you took a nasty fall off our front steps.”

“Wilbur helped me with my hands.” He said, holding them out for Phil to see. “He thought I hit my head, but it was just my hands and my back. I mean- I’m okay, sorry, I… thanks for being cool about him helping me.”

Phil chuckled softly. “S-sure mate, I’m glad he did. It looks like he did a good job too, your hands are going to be fine.” He took a deep breath and sighed, rubbing his hands nervously on the thighs of his jeans.

“…Would it be okay if I used your phone?” Tommy asked, realizing that there was probably a phone somewhere in this house. He wouldn’t have to walk all the way back to the school just to call his aunt.

“Where’s your phone?” Wilbur asked, raising a brow at Tommy from outside the bathroom. Techno had a similarly confused look on his face.

“Don’t have one.” He said, shaking his head. “Don’t have the money for it.”

“That’s fine, here.” Phil pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to Tommy, an old model iPhone with a bright blue case, and a crack on the screen despite the protector on it.

Tommy pulled the phone from his hand, his fingers nearly shaking as he tapped in his aunt’s number at the speed of light and held it to his ear, noticing Phil, Wilbur, and Techno all staring at him with an odd mix of concern and anticipation.

It rang four times before someone picked up. Tommy gasped softly, his other hand flying up to grip the phone as well.

“Hello?” It was a woman’s voice. That was his Aunt. That was Kris!

“Kris!” He nearly cried, tears welling up in his eyes at the sound of her voice. “Kris, please, you have to come get me, I-I don’t know what’s going on but the- the house wasn’t- there’s a different house where your house is, and there’s people here I don’t know, and I- I-“ He choked on a sob, tears falling down his cheeks. “I want to go home!! I don’t know where you are, I don’t- I don’t know where I am!!”

“I-… I’m really sorry, but you have the wrong number honey. I’m not Kris, okay?”

“What?” He breathed, blinking rapidly and scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “No, wait, but-“

”Take a deep breath, you’re alright, just hang up the phone and make sure you put in the number right, okay? You’re okay.”

He shook his head, another sob forcing it’s way out of his chest. “But-“

The dial tone rang out, dousing him in ice cold water. His aunt didn’t recognize his voice. But- she said her name wasn’t Kris, but that had to have been her. That was her phone number! He pulled the phone away from his ear and took in a shuddering breath through his teeth, punching in the number again, triple-checking every number. It had to be right. There was no way this wasn’t the right number.

“Tommy-“ Phil muttered softly, reaching toward him. He jerked his head and shoulder away, pulling his legs up to his chest protectively. He needed his aunt to come and pick him up. He needed to get away from… wherever he was.

[Riiiiing… riiiiiiiing… riiiiiiiiing…]

”…Hello?”

“Kris?” He asked quietly, his voice pleading. “Please, I don’t know where I am… It’s Tommy, it’s me. Please-“

”Honey, call the police. They’ll be able to help you, okay? You have the wrong number. I’m not your aunt. I don’t know anyone named Tommy.”

Tommy hung up furiously and buried his head in his hands, still clutching the phone in his right. That was his aunt’s voice. There was no doubt in his mind about it, but-… she was acting like she didn’t know him.

“Tommy.” Phil tried again, louder this time, but still with an overwhelming gentleness in his voice that grated against Tommy’s ears like sandpaper. He reached forward to place a hand on his shoulder again. “I know you’re scared right now, but please-“

Tommy slapped his hand away with a wild look in his eyes. “Don’t touch me!! Don’t fucking touch me, any of you! Who the hell even are you?!”

The three of them panicked at once, and Phil reached an arm out toward him, but Tommy shook his head and backed away, turning and booking it in the only direction he’d become familiar with through the house.

The bathroom door slammed shut behind him and he hastily clicked the lock into place before backing away, the backs of his legs hitting the edge of the bathtub. He fell again, which caused Wilbur to call his name frantically from the other side of the door, but instead of getting up he pulled his legs into the tub, feeling a bit safer with some semblance of a wall between him and them. The separation made his heart rate slow, if only barely.

There was no way he was going to make it past all three of them, get out of the house, and then down the street and back to the school. It was better to hunker down while he had some semblance of safety and figure out a plan afterwards. He felt hot tears streaking down his face as muffled voices argued from the other side of the door.

“Dad, come on-“ Techno muttered, his voice muffled but still discernible “He needs to calm down, we’re making it worse.”

The three must’ve come to an agreement because after a few more moments the voices drifted away, leaving Tommy finally alone.

He sunk down into the shower, hugging his knees to his chest as he cried.

Why was his house gone? Why were there strangers in this weird house that replaced his? Why didn’t his aunt recognize him when he called? Nothing was making any sense.

Eventually he came to the obvious conclusion that everything that had happened from the moment he stepped into algebra class that day had been a dream. He was sleeping at his desk right now, and any moment he’d be snapped back into awareness by the teacher calling his name for the seventh time. Any minute now he’d be back where things made sense, where if he called his aunt she’d pick up, and she’d come get him from wherever he was no matter what. Not brush him off and hang up on him. Not pretend like she didn’t know him.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up…” He pleaded, pulling at his hair as he laid on his side and wept into the crook of his elbow. He had to wake up. He had to. Because if he didn’t, then that meant that everything happening was real. And that couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

Chapter Text

“He’s completely delirious.” Techno stated matter-of-factly, his voice sharp not with anger, but stress. A tone Phil and Wilbur were both familiar with. “He hit his head so hard on the pavement he imagined a world where we don’t exist. What a comforting thought.”

Wilbur shook his head as the three of them headed toward the kitchen, instinctively taking their own seats at the table. “He didn’t have a single scratch or bump on his head, Tech. Whatever’s going on had nothing to do with that fall. He’s just- it’s like he just snapped. And what was that shit about with the phone call?!”

Techno, never one for sitting still, immediately pushed his chair back and instead began pacing the length of the table with his hands worrying the edge of his chin in thought.

“He had that whole story laid out and- and the phone call- why would he have some stranger’s number memorized like that? Something off-“

“Both of you calm down.” Phil said, as always attempting to be the level-headed one even when both Techno and Wilbur could see his shaking hands. “Whatever’s going on it’s obviously real to him. He’s not injured, so there’s no point arguing about it. This… break, wasn’t caused by head trauma. But… you both saw how he reacted to that call, he was devastated.”

Wilbur nodded. “I’m telling you, he has this story he was telling me while I bandaged his hands. It felt so real the way he talked about it. According to him his parents divorced when he was a baby, his mom died when he was three, and his dad was fucking- unfit to be a guardian or something like that. It’s weird, I know but-… this isn’t your typical… anything. Nothing about this is typical.”

Phil sighed, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I… I’m going to call Sam and see what he has to say about this.”

“There’s no way Tommy’s going to agree to go and see a therapist right now.” Techno replied as he shook his head. “He’s trapped himself in the bathroom, how are we supposed to get him out?”

Phil rolled his eyes. “We’re not ‘getting him out’. He’ll calm down and come out when he feels ready. He’s terrified right now. I’m calling him. Besides, Sam’s been to our house before. He’ll know what to do. For now just leave Tommy alone. We don’t need him to be any more scared than he already is.”

Wilbur and Techno shared a look, but nodded nonetheless. Tommy needed space, and they were going to have to be okay with that for however long it takes for him to figure it out. After their brief but stressful family meeting, Techno went outside to tend to his garden for a while which meant he needed space to have his own personal crisis. Phil went to the living room with his laptop, probably to research neuroscience until he got too freaked-out by a completely unreliable ‘WebMD’ article.

Which left Wilbur to… well, normally around this time he’d run up the stairs and slam Tommy’s door open, insisting that he play video games with him, or listen to a song he’d been working on. But with Tommy unavailable, he was on his own. He decided to head up to his room to strum on his guitar for a while, maybe work on his Minecraft world if he couldn’t think of anything more interesting to do.

Closing his door quietly behind him, he stared at his absolute disaster of a room. Clothes and candy wrappers strewn everywhere, though the wrappers were mostly Tommy’s fault. His cracked tv on the left side of the room, xbox sitting underneath it with two wired controllers laying on the table. His bed and bookshelves were off to the right, and propped up against his bed, right where he left it, was his guitar.

Just seeing it eased his nerves. He picked it up and sat down on the edge of the bed, strumming the strings listlessly. He had one song in particular that he’d been working on, but… Tommy was like his editor, his first listener, and he’d already worked so much on it that he really wanted someone’s opinion on how it sounded.

He sighed and leaned forward, flopping his arms over the front of the guitar and doing his best to blank out. That’s when he noticed it. Something bright red out on the driveway, he could just barely see it through his window from where he was sitting. He stood up and gently leaned his guitar back against the bed before walking to the window and peeking out. And- yup, there it was. Tommy had been so out of it when he fell that he must’ve not noticed his backpack had fallen off.

He strode out his bedroom door and down the stairs, passing through the main hall straight out the front door. He hopped over the porch steps as he always did and leaned down, scooping up one of the red bag straps with one hand.

As he closed the front door behind him, he noticed an odd texture on the strap. It wasn’t often that he carried Tommy’s backpack around for him, but it seemed off nonetheless. He lifted it with both hands and flattened out the strap, his eyebrows screwed up together in confusion.

‘TOMMY’ the strap read in bright red letters, embroidered into the nylon-plastic fabric of the bag. He ran his thumb over the neat stitching. It was in Tommy’s favorite color, that bright fire engine red.

“Dad?” He called, peeking into the living room where Phil was sitting on his own, some old animal planet episode playing on the tv. “Did you do this?”

“Do what?” Phil asked, leaning forward as Wilbur walked behind the couch, and laid the bag down on the cushion infant of him, splaying out the strap for Phil could see what he was seeing. Pretty soon Phil’s brow was furrowed in just the same way Wilbur’s had. “…No. Maybe ask Techno?”

“Since when does Techno know how to embroider shit?” Wilbur asked, rolling his eyes.

“Wilbur, since when have I known how to embroider shit?” Phil asked, raising a brow at his eldest son. “Go ask him. Hell, maybe one of his school friends did it, I don’t know.”

Wilbur huffed, raising the backpack up over his shoulder and walking off toward the door to the backyard, sliding the glass door open and stepping out onto the deck.

“Technooooo?” He called, looking around their large back garden. “Techno, what’re you doing?”

“Weeding!!” His voice called from Wilbur’s left.

He chuckled softly and jumped over the small set of stairs that led down to the pavement. He walked around the front of the deck and into the grass, where he could see Techno a few yards away kneeling over one of his garden boxes.

“You’re doing weed?” He asked, stifling a laugh.

“Ah, yes, the epitome of comedy. Weed jokes.” Techno replied, though he had a smile on his face. “What do you want again?”

“Did you do this?” He held Tommy’s backpack out to Techno, who was not sitting up and removing his soil-stained garden gloves.

“…No, I didn’t.” He replied, shaking his head. “Why, was that not there before?”

“No.” Wilbur said as he pulled the backpack back, slinging it over his shoulder. “You think one of Tommy’s friends did it?”

“Who? Ranboo? Tubbo? Maybe, I’m not sure. Nikki could have, but the last I heard of them hanging our was like, months ago. Unless he asked her to do it specifically, I don’t think she would ‘just because’.”

Wilbur hummed, turning on his heel and heading back toward the house with a quickly mumbled ‘thanks Techno’. The younger brother shrugged to himself, and went back to tending his garden.

Phil cleared his throat and did his best to calm the anxious beating in his chest before approaching the bathroom door. He knew Tommy was awake, he could hear the kid’s footsteps from outside, so he made sure to announce himself so Tommy didn’t think he was trying to sneak up on him.

“Tom?” He called gently, knocking twice on the door with the knuckle of his index finger. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Shuffling from the other side, it sounded like he might’ve been lying down in the tub. He hated to think Tommy would be staying in the bathroom for long but… it might be a good idea to bring him a blanket. He had slept in there last night after all.

“…Phil?” Tommy asked, his voice croaky and hesitant from the other side of the door.

“Yeah. I have some news for you, can you open the-“

Before he could finish his sentence Tommy had pulled the door open, his eyes tired but wide and attentive as he looked up at Phil. “Have you heard from my aunt?!” He asked, waiting impatiently for a reply.

“I-… Sorry, we… haven’t heard from her. Yet. But uh, I’m having someone come over that I’d like you to talk to. His name’s Sam, I think he might be able to help.” Tommy’s brow furrowed as Phil continued, but he nodded at the end in understanding. “I know you’re still really nervous and confused, we’re doing our best to help, but I was… I was wondering if I could get you a change of clothes, since you slept here last night? It might be more comfortable for you.”

Tommy hesitated, as he seemed to do every time anything happened since he’d come home, but he nodded a few moments later. Phil tried not to show his relief too obviously.

“I’ll run and get something for you to wear, Sam is going to be here in about twenty minutes, so I wanted to give you some fair warning about him.”

“Thanks.” He said with a nod, already closing the door.

As Phil walked away he heard the telltale ‘click!’ Of the bathroom door lock, and his heart sank. This was fine. Tommy was… adjusting. Something had obviously happened, and now they were just trying to make him feel comfortable and safe. Hopefully this visit with Sam would help with that.

He headed upstairs into Tommy’s room, pushing open the sliding closet door. It was covered in all kinds of paper scrap notes, photos and polaroids new and old of the three of them, or just Wilbur, or Techno. Some of Tommy and his friend Tubbo. Seeing all the memories held in his room alone made Phil’s heard ache painfully, but he steeled himself and shook it off, focusing on his task at hand.

Sifting through Tommy’s many sweaters, hoodies, and t-shirts, he managed to find a few that he knew were his son’s favorites. He always wore them the moment they were clean, and whined whenever he needed them and they were dirty. Dark blue sweatpants and a faded yellow t-shirt from his old film camp, along with one of Techno’s burgundy college hoodies. He loved stealing from his older brothers.

Wilbur was brushing his teeth in the bathroom he and Tommy normally shared when Phil walked back down the hall with the small bundle of clothes in his hands, and as he took the steps at double time, Techno hopped up the final steps from the basement wearing one of his golden hoodies and a pair of black basketball shorts.

Phil gave him a once-over, raising a brow.

“What?” Techno asked with a shrug, raising a brow right back at him.

“Nothing. Nevermind.” He said with a low chuckle. He rounded the corner as Techno headed in the opposite direction toward living room and knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?”

“Clothes for you.” Phil called, waiting a few moments before the door opened and Tommy peeked hesitantly outside. He took the clothes from Phil and retreated back inside, the lock clicking behind him once more.

Phil sighed and headed for the living room, taking his usual seat on the right side of the couch with his legs propped up beside him.

“This only started yesterday.” Techno reasoned logically, seeing the look in his dad’s eye. “You can’t expect him to be improving already.”

“I know, I know-“ Phil sighed, running his hands through his hair and pulling on the ends. “…He’s my youngest, you have to cut me some slack. I worry about him all the time.”

“You do.” Techno agreed.

Phil looked at him, letting go of the ends of his hair as they both sighed in unison. Techno opened his mouth to say something more on the matter, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Phil stood up immediately, followed quickly by Techno as they both made their way to the entry. He didn’t need to look through the window to know who it was. He opened the door with a plainly relieved smile on his face as Sam stood on the stoop, a kind expression mirroring Phil’s own. “Sam.” He breathed. “Thanks for agreeing to come over.”

“Of course I came, this is Tommy.” He said matter-of-factly. Phil and Techno both stepped aside as Sam entered, the sound of jingling metal following him from a leash in his right hand. “I- hope you don’t mind, I thought I’d bring Fran with me. Tommy seemed to like her whenever we met before, so-“

“I think that’s a great idea.” Phil said with a smile. “He’s… well, let me go talk to him. Uh- Techno?” He asked, motioning toward him.

Techno looked to Sam and shrugged. “Living room?” Sam nodded, following him through the house with Fran close to his side. Phil watched as they disappeared around the bend, steeling himself to speak with his youngest.

He approached the bathroom door slowly, leaning against it as he took a breath, and held it. “...Tom?” He said, knocking again. “Sam’s here. Could you… Do you want him to come here?”

Silence for a few moments, Phil’s heart beating in his ears as he waited more nervously than likely necessary for an answer.

“…I’ll come out there.” Tommy answered meekly from the other side.

Phil did his best to keep his relief in check at his answer. “Great- okay, we’ll be in the living room.” He took a step back, ready to join Sam and Techno to wait for Tommy to be ready, but he hesitated, leaning back against the door once more. “Do you want Techno and Wilbur to be there?”

There was a pause for a moment longer as Phil could make out a few more shuffling noises from the other side of the door.

“N…No.” Tommy replied after a second.

“Okay, that’s alright.” He responded immediately, taking a step away from the door. “We’re just in the living room, come out when you’re ready.” He pushed off the door with his hip and ran his hands back through his hair as he headed in the direction of the living room, coming to a stop in front of the couch and practically throwing himself onto it.

“You haven’t told me too much about what’s happened yet, just that he’s having some memory problems and locked himself in the bathroom.” Sam said, looking between Techno and Phil. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“His memories are… different than what they should be.” Techno said. “It’s like he forgot everything that’s real, and replaced it with something else.”

“Has he experienced any significant trauma’s in his life? Anything, no matter how long ago.”

Phil and Techno shared a look, each of them wearing a furrowed brow before looking back at Sam.

“Our mom died when I was eight.” Techno said. “Tommy was… four, at the time. I don’t even know if he fully remembers that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but that’s not necessarily the type of event I’m looking for.” He glanced at Phil, an apprehensive look in his eyes. “Our brains cope with stress in varying ways, one of which is to bar access to memories, or create memories to replace ones that we don’t understand how to deal with. Things like car accidents, physical or sexual assault, abuse, anything of that nature?”

“Never.” Phil said, shaking his head stoically. “Kristen and I never once touched any of the boys unkindly. I know that for a fact.”

Techno agreed. “Nothing, never. Tommy’s never been in a car accident, he’s never been in fights, nothing. He doesn’t even like scary movies or video games, nothing.”

Sam nodded, taking in everything. “…Alright. I trust both of you, but if it’s alright I’d still like to talk with Tommy alone when he comes out. I know it’s hard, but having other people in the room, he could hesitate to be completely open about what he’s been experiencing.”

Techno and Phil both nodded, the latter leading as they both exited the living room.

“If you need anything from me, I’ll just be downstairs in my office.” Phil explained, giving Sam one final nod before he and Techno both disappeared around the corner. Sam nodded back to him, raising one hand before setting it gently back down on Fran’s head, scratching her behind her ear as he waited.

He wasn’t particularly nervous about seeing Tommy. He’d met with plenty of patients that had memory issues, or problems focusing, or speaking their minds. He just hoped that Tommy would be honest with him. From the sound of what happened between him and his family the day prior, he’d been under a considerable amount of stress.

Fran huffed once through her nose and leaned down, laying beside Sam’s feet and resting her head on her paws, bright brown eyes fixed on the entrance to the living room. She heard the bathroom door open before Sam did, and by the time he heard the sound of quietly shuffling footsteps, she’d picked her head back up, alert as ever as Tommy stepped into the living room.

Sam turned his head, a friendly smile on his face when he met Tommy’s eyes. “Tom.” He said, giving the boy a nod. “Come take a seat.”

“Are you Sam?” Tommy asked as he sat in a chair diagonal from where Sam was sitting. He pulled his legs up onto the seat and tucked his hands under his feet, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I am.” He replied with a nod. “Phil told me a little bit about why he wanted me to come over today. I understand you’ve been experiencing some problems with memory.”

Tommy crossed his arms, pressing them under his ribs as he sat and shook his head. ”No. I- Before yesterday, this address was where I lived with my aunt Kris. Her house is a big one story brown brick house, it’s got two big windows on the front and no car park- just the drive way. She works a lot so I don’t see her to often but we eat take out on the weekends, she buys me a new video game for my birthday every year, and has ever since I was seven.” As he spoke Tommy’s voice became more and more insistent, seeing the shrouded look of disbelief that Sam attempted to hide behind his eyes.

“…You don’t believe me.”

“You’re an observant boy Tom.” Sam said, and Tommy could tell from his tone that he meant it, which took his by surprise. “You’re right. I’m having trouble completely believing what you’re saying. Can I explain why?”

It took Tommy’s brain a second to catch up, this wasn’t exactly where he thought this conversation would go, but in the end he gave Sam a nod. “Sure, y-yeah.”

“I’m going to be very honest with you while we talk today Tommy. I always strive to be upfront when I talk with people. I might say some things that are going to upset you, what I ask is that when it happens, you wait before reacting. Try to tell me how you’re feeling so we can talk through it instead. Would that be alright with you?”

“I-… yeah, okay.” Tommy said again with a nod. “I think I can do that.”

“Awesome.” Sam said, resting his hands on his knees before pushing himself up to stand. “Let’s take a walk around Phil’s house while we talk.”

“Is-… would he okay with that?”

Sam nodded. “I’ve been to Phil’s house a few times and walked around it plenty with him. He won’t mind at all. Come on.”

Together, Sam and Tommy walk through the living room and down the entry way, out through the front door onto the porch. It was still early in the day on a Saturday, before noon. The secluded residential street of his neighborhood was quiet at this time. A cool fall breeze blew against Tommy’s face, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“It’s a good day to take a walk.” Sam remarked with a chuckle as Fran stepped out the door with him. “Though I’m sure Fran would insist that every day is a good day for a walk.”

“Is that your dog’s name?” Tommy asked, looking down at the animal panting at his side.

Sam nodded. “Yup. Fran. She’s my assistant, comes with me to the office. Very helpful.”

“There were some therapy dogs that came to my school a couple weeks ago.” Tommy muttered, folding his arms over his chest and hugging them close to his body. “There were like- five or six of them that went around to all the classrooms.”

“That’s very cool.” Sam said, and from his tone Tommy could tell he actually meant it. “Fran and I go to schools sometimes, nursing homes too. Everyone gets a real kick out of seeing her, and she loves the attention.”

“I bet.” Tommy said with a huff of laughter. Sam laughed too.

“Tommy, I came by today because Phil is concerned about you.” He began. Tommy tensed up his shoulders, but kept walking. “He’s concerned because your memory of your life, and his memory of your life, don’t match. In fact, your memories don’t match with any of ours.”

“Because I’ve never been here before.” He insisted, trying to keep his tone even, and remain calm. “I don’t know any of these people.”

“But see, they know you. And all they’re memories, Phil’s, Wilbur’s, Techno’s, they all match up. So you have to understand Tom, there’s a pattern here that’s not complete, and the reason I’m here is to try to understand what happened to break that pattern, and begin the road to fixing it with you.”

“I don’t need a therapist.” He said sharply, taking a step away from Sam. “I’m not crazy.”

“No, you aren’t.” Sam agreed. “But you are confused. That’s a fact we can both agree on, right?”

Tommy sighed, but nodded anyways.

“Right.” Sam said. “So let’s take this one step at a time, and figure out where the seams line up, okay? Why don’t we start with your family. Where are your parents right now? What are their names?”

“My dad’s name is Richard, I think. I only know of him ‘cause of my Aunt. He got arrested or something when I was really little, and then after he got out of jail my parents got a divorce, and he wasn’t allowed to see me anymore. My mom died in a car accident when I was three or four I’m pretty sure. Her name was Marissa.”

Sam hummed in thought, nodding a bit as they continued walking together. “So, your aunt, her name is Kris, didn’t you say?”

Tommy nodded.

“Is she married? Do you have an Uncle? Any other family?”

“I had a grandma for a while, but she died a few years ago. I didn’t see her much anyways, it’s just been me and Kris for a while.”

“Well, That must get lonely from time to time, just the two of you.”

He thought about it for a second before shrugging his shoulders. “Not really. I mean, it’s not like there’s anyone else I’d rather hang out with.”

“No friends? No sports at school, hobbies, anything like that?”

“No.” Tommy answered, shaking his head. “Nothing like that. I don’t like football, and that’s the only team they have at my school. I play video games, but the video game club is full of absolute geeks and total creeps, and I really don’t want to hag out with them. They’re just as bad as the jocks, maybe worse.”

That made Sam chuckle, shaking his head. “I guess I can see the logic in that. Still though, you don’t get lonely? Does your aunt work from home?”

Again, Tommy shook his head. “She works at the Public Library. She’s always working, sometimes really really late, so I see her on the weekends when we’re both at home. We get take out from my favorite place down the street, and watch movies on the couch.”

Sam smiled, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “Well, that seems nice. Let me ask you then- did you and your aunt ever live anywhere other than here? A different house?”

“Well this house isn’t our house.” He clarified, gesturing toward the home they walked beside. “Kris’s house is only one story, brown, with two big windows and no garage on the front. But uh, no, I can’t remember ever living anywhere else. She told me that before she got me she was living in an apartment somewhere downtown, but immediately she started looking for a house when my mom died, so, I guess I lived with her in that apartment for maybe… I dunno, a year? Six months?”

“You have an impeccable memory.” Sam said with a chuckle. “How do you remember all that? You must’ve been very young.”

“Well Kris and I talk about it sometimes. When I was little I’d ask her all the time about like, why I lived with her, why didn’t any other kids at school live with their aunts, just regular kid things.”

“Did it make you feel different, living with her? Felt like you didn’t fit in?”

Tommy paused for a moment, his brow furrowing as he thought. “…No. I don’t think it did. No one really seemed to care all that much, and I didn’t bring it up often with any of the kid’s at school.”

“So you don’t have any friends from school, no one you talk to, no one you hang out with, even just once every so often?”

Tommy shook his head. “Nope. It’s just… just me and Kris. Really.”

“No siblings?” Sam asked.

“No.” Tommy said, once again shaking his head. “Never had any.”

Sam stayed silent after that for a long while, the two finishing their walk after a minute or so, arriving back at the front door. They walked into the living room again and found Phil waiting there for them, looking even more concerned than he had before.

“Tommy and I talked for a little while about what he remembers.” Sam said. “But I think it might be best if I come back another time, I don’t want to tire you both out like this, maybe I could come back on Tuesday or Wednesday?”

“That sounds fine with me.” Phil said, turning to look at Tommy. “What do you think? Do you want to see Sam again in a couple of days?”

“I-…” Tommy’s eyebrows pinch together as he looks between the two older men, slowly shaking his head. “I don’t… I don’t understand…” He whispered.

“Tom?...” Phil asked quietly.

“I don’t understand why your not- not helping me find her.” He said, his heart suddenly beating faster in his chest. “You’re acting like I’m- like I’m being crazy. I don’t know who you are! I just want to go home, to find Kris, I don’t-“

“I think I should go.” Sam muttered, resting a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s alright, it’s- I’ll call you.” He whispered back.

Tommy shook his head, his eyes widening. “Stop- Stop acting like I can’t fucking hear you! Stop treating me like I’m some fragile little kid, saying ‘oh, how do you feel about this? What about this?’ Stop it!! I don’t to see some stupid fucking therapist, I want you to help me find my Aunt!!”

“Tommy, calm down, we’re just trying to understand how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking right now.” Sam said, holding his hands up placatingly. “Remember what I said about Phil and I and Wilbur and Techno’s memories, how they don’t line up with yours? We’re trying to understand-“

“TAKE ME TO THE FUCKING POLICE!!” Tommy shouted, his hands balled into fists. “At least they might be able to help me FIND her!! Whatever you’re doing, whatever this is-“ He gestured toward Sam sharply with one hand- “It’s not what I need right now! I need to find Kris, I need to go home!!”

“Enough!” Phil said sternly, his voice vibrating off the living room walls. “Thomas, go cool off. I can’t help you if you won’t listen to me, or Sam. Go cool off, and we’ll talk later.” He said, leaving no room for argument.

Tommy stared at him, dumbfounded, anger rising up in his chest. “…Don’t talk to me like you’re my dad.” He spat, his gaze steely before he turned and stormed out of the living room. A few seconds later, the downstairs bathroom door slammed shut.

He clicked the bathroom lock into place and let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling at his sides. He sighed sharply and pushed off the door, angrily pacing the four-foot span of flooring that was now available to him. He stopped for a moment and kicked the side of the bathtub with the rubber toe of his sneaker before continuing to pace.

“Maybe showing him his room will jog his memory.” Wilbur suggested as the three of them sat at the breakfast table the next morning, each of them casting the occasional worried glance toward the guest bathroom door.

Phil had managed to get Tommy to take a bowl of cereal, but the kid still refused to step outside of the bathroom. The door was locked, and… for safety reasons, that was worrying Phil in particular.

“Please, he has no idea who we are, you really think he’s going to take a house tour well? He doesn’t want to leave the bathroom. I for one think we should let him stay in there as long as he wants. He’ll come out once he gets hungry.”

Phil sent a glare in Techno’s direction. “…If you’re implying we starve your little brother out of hiding, so help me, I’ll ground you for a year.”

Techno’s lips pressed shut and he said nothing. He paused and let out a long sigh through his nose, rubbing at his temple with his index and middle fingers. “I-… I wasn’t thinking about it that way. I was just… making a suggestion.”

“Your suggestion has been noted.” Wilbur replied with sarcastic cheer, miming writing with a pen and paper before crumpling the imaginary note and tossing it over his shoulder. “I’m telling you, showing him his room might spark something in him. A memory, something.”

“It’s not that he’s lacking memory.” Phil interjected, shaking his head minutely. “It’s that the memories he has don’t match ours. He doesn’t have amnesia, not in the typical sense at least… he’s remembering things differently.” He lifts his mug in one hand and takes a long sip of black coffee, grimacing at the flavor.

The brothers share a look with one another, but said nothing. Once they were finished eating, and after tossing their dishes into the sink, Wilbur headed upstairs to his bedroom while Techno headed down to his own, which left Phil to meander into his office, across the hall from Techno’s room in the basement.

Wilbur tossed Tommy’s backpack gently into his desk chair before collapsing onto his bed, arms out at his sides as he stared at his ceiling.

The house felt so fucking quiet without Tommy in his bedroom across the hall. Normally all the noise he made would annoy the shit out of Wilbur, Tommy liked his tv to be on the max volume when he played video games, he’d scream into the mic when they won, lost, got a lucky shot- and they got lots of lucky shots.

Now it felt like a ghost town. He was just waiting to hear the Halo Theme echoing through Tommy’s door, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t in his bedroom, he was downstairs, sitting in the guest bathroom, terrified because he didn’t remember Wilbur, or Techno, or their dad.

…Maybe he’d want his backpack. It wouldn’t do him much good if Wilbur put it up in his room. He leaned up and looked at the bag, sitting innocently in his chair. He could just slip it through a crack in the bathroom door. It wouldn’t even take five seconds, and he’d close it again and leave Tommy alone. After all, the kid was stressed to all hell. He probably wanted to be left alone.

Feeling more determined, he snuck down the stairs on socked feet, his steps practically silent on the carpeted steps. He reminded himself that what he was doing was fine and nothing was going to happen, and Phil wasn’t going to be pissed at him for trying to give his brother his backpack.

It was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine. He stopped in front of the bathroom door and knelt down, holding the backpack in one hand. He placed his hand on the doorknob, and was about to open it when-

“Who’s there?!”

Shit. “It’s me!” He whispered quietly, pressing an ear to the door. “It’s just me, Wilbur. I thought… you might want your backpack back. It was sitting out in the driveway last night, I didn’t want to leave it out there.”

Tommy said nothing, but Wilbur could sense his discomfort from the other side. Hell, he could sense Tommy’s discomfort from his bedroom. “I’m just going to open the door and set it inside, and then I’ll close the door again. Is that okay?”

“…Yeah.” He replied weakly.

Wilbur pulled the door open slowly and pushed the bag inside, catching a brief glimpse of Tommy before he quickly closed the door, as promised.

He was holed up in the bathtub with his knees pulled up to his chest, red puffy eyes and hair a mess. He looked pitiful. Wilbur wanted to give him that pity, to hug hi younger brother and tell him that whatever was happening, no mater what, it was going to be okay. But that wasn’t what Tommy needed, so he closed the door and backed away, heading back upstairs without another word about it.

Chapter Text

After hearing the sound of Wilbur running up the stairs, his footsteps pittering out until they disappeared completely, Tommy scrambled out of the tub and grabbed his backpack, clutching it to his chest like a lifeline.

He scrambled to his feet, sneakers squeaking on the slick bathroom tiles to click the knob, locking it in place before climbing back into the tub. He let his back slide down against the side with a sigh and emptied out the contents out in front of him, taking stock of everything he had.

Three spiral notebooks, a pencil bag with five pencils (two wooden, three mechanical), six multicolored pens, a sharpie, two yellow highlighters, three crumbling erasers, a calculator, his English and Algebra textbooks, an empty bag of Doritos (among other small bits of trash and candy wrappers), his water bottle, house keys, and his wallet which had about forty five dollars in it and a learner’s permit that he couldn’t use.

He regretted not having something to take pictures with. Even one of those shitty point-and-shoot Walmart cameras would have been nice. As it was, he had no evidence that he was… that he’d fucking time-travelled or something. But that wouldn’t explain that he had his aunts phone number and she didn’t-

He took a deep breath, shaking his head to clear it. He grabbed one of the spiral notebooks and began flipping through it, eyes glancing over all his poorly written school notes. There was no evidence of his aunt’s existence in them. No writing in the margins, nothing. She never really had time to help him with his school work, but… maybe he forgot a note, something somewhere that she’d written for him. A sticky note, a reminder, anything to prove that she had existed.

After flipping through all three of his notebooks, and even looking through his textbooks for a stray note or scrap of paper, he still came up empty handed. He even checked his wallet, but there was nothing in there other than a few bills and a Starbucks gift card.

There was absolutely nothing. No proof his previous existence. Any evidence of his house was just- evaporated, just like that. It was like his aunt had been erased. Or… her memory of him had been erased, since she apparently still existed, but didn’t know who he was.

And these three guys, their house being here… he couldn’t understand any of it.

Now he was trapped in a house he’d never seen before, with people he’d never met, who swore that they’d known him his entire life. And the one person he wanted to talk to, his aunt, didn’t know him.

He stood up on numb legs and slowly stepped over the wall of the tub, onto the tile. He set his backpack down next to the pile of junk he’d removed, and stood up straight, taking a moment to glance himself over in the mirror.

His hair was a complete mess, and his face was still red from all the crying he’d been doing over the past two days. He leaned forward onto his hands, which gripped the smooth rim of the sink, the cool porcelain a relief against his hot palms. He looked down as his fingertips brushed against something on the counter, only to find the Rubik’s cube sitting there, plain a day.

Had that… been where he left it? He could’ve sworn he just saw it amongst the pile of things he’d removed from his bag. He didn’t remember taking it out, and he certainly didn’t carry it over to the sink with him.

He picked it up with one hand, running his thumb over the seams between the little square pieces, all their multi-colored monotony. He spun it a few times in his hands as he leaned back against the wall, tilting his head up to stare at his reflection once again.

Wait.

He pushed his head off the wall and squinted at the mirror, his eyes dancing over his reflection. He stepped forward, clutching the cube in his hands as he stared.

He turned the top row of colors ninety degrees to the right.

Immediately, before his eyes, his irises turned from blue to bright emerald green.

“FUCK!!” He screamed, letting the cube fall from his hands and into the sink like a hot coal. His heart hammered in his chest as he pressed his back against the wall, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were green. Green!

“What the fuck, what the fuck what the fuck-“ He surged forward and grabbed the cube, turning it harshly back to the left. His eyes went back to their usual bright blue, and for some reason the return of his usual color did nothing to quell the terror that was rising in his gut.

He slammed the toy down on the counter so hard it was a miracle the thing didn’t break, tucked his hands under his arms, staring at it like it might burn him if he touched it again. The cube was magic. The fucking Rubik’s cube was fucking magic.

There was a knock on the door, and Tommy was very proud of himself for not screaming bloody murder at the sudden sound, merely scrambling backwards and bracing himself against the wall like he was afraid the floor was going to crumble beneath him.

“Tommy?” That was Wilbur’s voice. What did he want?!

“Y-Yeah?” He called back with a trembling voice, trying to calm his erratic breaths.

“I’ve got some lunch for you, do you want me to leave it out here or should I open the door and put it inside?”

Fuck- “Uh, you can- you can open the door.” He stammered, standing up a bit straighter and trying to look at least a little bit like he wasn’t having a heart attack.

Wilbur opened the door slowly, and seemed pleasantly surprised to see Tommy not cowering in the tub like a terrified cat. “Hey, uh- here.” He offered, holding a paper plate of food out toward him.

Tommy took a step forward and lifted his hand, taking the plate from Wilbur hesitantly, but quickly at the same time. It was pancakes and strawberries, one of Tommy’s favorite breakfasts.

He looked up just as Wilbur was about to close the door, and in a feat of speed he reached forward, grabbing the side of it before he could pull it closed. “Wait, Wilbur.” He muttered, setting the food on the counter.

He looked surprised, but opened the door back up and leaned against the frame all the same, waiting patiently for Tommy to continue. He looked nervous, almost.

“…What color do you think my eyes are?” He asked, pulling the Rubik’s cube from the counter and placing his plate there instead. He positioned his fingers on one side of the cube, pressing against the gears like a hair trigger.

“What?” He chuckled with a raised brow. “Your eyes are blue. You can look in the mirror and see that.”

“No, I- I know.” He muttered, turning the round of cubes while it was hidden behind his back. “But what color do they look like right now? Like- like what color are they right this second?”

Wilbur rolled his eyes and took a step closer, leaning forward to look at Tommy’s eyes. “…They look… I guess they’re-… wait-“ He took another step closer, tilting his head to the side, and then the other side, squinting skeptically. “They look… kind of… well, they’re… really green-looking.”

Tommy’s heart soared. So other people could notice it too!! “Okay- okay, and what color are they now?” He flicked the cube back into place.

Wilbur’s eyes blew wide, hands flying up to Tommy’s face and craning his head up toward the light, forgetting his desire to be gentle, or calm. He tilted Tommy’s face back and forth as the light glinted in his eyes The color did not change again. “What the- What the fuck?!”

“You see it too!!” Tommy cheered, relief flooding through him. He grabbed Wilbur’s arms and practically hopped up and down. “I’m not crazy!! I’m not! You can see it too!!”

Wilbur stood in shock, allowing Tommy to toss his numb arms with him as he jumped, staring at him. “You… Your eyes changed color…” He muttered, for furrowing in confusion. “How… How did you do that?!”

“This!!” Tommy exclaimed, holding the Rubik’s cube out toward him, shaking it back and forth slightly. “This awful thing! This awful thing!!” Wilbur reached out to touch it, but Tommy quickly pulled it away, trapping it between his hands. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH IT!!”

“Okay!! Okay okay okay-“ Wilbur stammered, running his hands through his hair and taking a step back. “You- wait, can you do it again?”

Tommy froze, the manic energy draining from him for a moment as he stood up straight, holding the cube in front of him. He looked straight at Wilbur as he turned it to the right, nearly laughing at the comical surprise on his face before turning it back to normal again.

“Okay. Wow, uh- that’s- I don’t… know what to say about that.” Wilbur muttered breathily, staring at the toy in Tommy’s hands. “…Where the fuck did you get that thing?”

“Creepy school bus driver.” Tommy deadpanned, far too calmly. “He’s probably an evil wizard.”

“Wizards aren’t real.” Wilbur replied on instinct, though the moment the words left his mouth Tommy could see the hesitancy growing on his face. “…Techno and Dad both just left for work a couple minutes ago. Uh-… we should definitely show this to them when they get back.”

“No shit.” Tommy muttered, looking back down at the cube in his hands. They both stared at it like it was cursed, and… in all honesty, holding it didn’t make Tommy feel… good, so he set it back down on the bathroom counter, instead choosing to grab his breakfast. “So, uhm-… I have… a lot of questions.”

Wilbur huffed out a high-pitched laugh before clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh, me too.” He turned to leave, but paused for a second, looking back at Tommy with a hesitant, but somewhat hopeful expression. Though any expression he had at all was overpowered by the sheer bewilderment they were both feeling. “We can… talk out in the living room. If you don’t mind?”

Tommy nodded, and Wilbur moved aside immediately for him to come through, gesturing in an ‘after you’ motion as Tommy stepped into the hall.

“Kitchen’s down the hall to the left.” Wilbur said, pointing forwards when he noticed the way Tommy hesitated, and looked either way down the hall. “…It feels weird to give you directions around the house. I mean, I know you’re not… Tommy. I mean, well- I guess I have no idea who you are.”

Tommy laughed softly. “Well… I’m Tommy. I don’t know who your Tommy is, what he’s like.”

They walked to the kitchen together, taking seats across from one another at the table. “There’s me Tommy, and then there’s your Tommy. The Tommy you know.”

“This is insane.” Wilbur muttered with a hysterical laugh, pressing one hand to his forehead as he shook his head back and forth. “You’re you, but you’re not the you I know, you’re like- there’s- you’re really… you don’t know who any of us are because… you’re not Tommy. Or- sorry, not my Tommy.”

Tommy’s heart soared, feeling both relieved and elated that he finally, finally had someone who understood, someone to talk to about the insanity he’d been experiencing over the past few days.

“So… what do you want to know?” Wilbur asked. “You’re the one who’s apparently a fucking time traveller or whatnot… whatever that… thing, does.”

He pointed toward the bathroom with his thumb, both of them understanding the motion. The Rubik’s cube, if that really was what it was, and- what else could it be?

“Trust me I have no idea.” Tommy replied, shaking his head as he took a bite of pancake and strawberry. “…This is my favorite thing to eat for breakfast.”

“I knew that.” Wilbur replied with a small chuckle. “I guess some things stay the same from… your version of you to my version of you.”

“Were you trying to coax me out of the bathroom with food?”

“Perhaps.” Wilbur smirked, making Tommy laugh, and he laughed in turn. “…You’ve always been good at making people laugh. Dad says you could be a comedian, or like- a talk show host.”

It was Tommy’s turn to laugh again. “God- well, I try to make people laugh. It’s hard sometimes, but I try to be the sort of class-clown kid. Making people laugh makes me feel good.”

“That’s the same too.” Wilbur said with a nod. “Tommy’s always getting in trouble for stunts he pulls at school. He says it’s all in good fun, but he can take a joke too far. He likes pulling shit on me and Techno too, always messing with us.”

“That sounds like me.” Tommy replied with a chuckle. “If I had any siblings, they’d definitely feel my wrath on a daily basis.”

Wilbur’s face fell slightly. “You don’t have any siblings? No… y’know, no older brothers?”

Tommy shook his head. “Just me and my aunt Kris. She can get pretty pissed at me sometimes, especially if she gets a call from the school when she’s working. I try not to do anything too drastic since I know she’s got her own shit going on.”

“That remind me, what you said about your dad,” Wilbur started, his expression sobering quickly. “Do you know anything about him? What’s he like? Or I guess- just… what’s his name?”

Tommy thought for a long moment, taking another bite of his breakfast before pulling one of his legs up onto the chair to rest his chin on. “I haven’t seen him more than a handful of times, and that was when I was little, like five or six. Kris is my mom’s sister in-law, so I’m like- not even part of his family really. I don’t know any relatives on his side, and the only other that I know of was my grandma, but she died a few years ago.”

He paused for a second, trying to remember his dad’s first name. “I think his name is like… Richard, or something.”

Wilbur sighed, his shoulders relaxing even though Tommy didn’t remember them being that tense. “So… He didn’t look like Phil at all, right? Your dad’s name wasn’t Philip?”

Tommy shook his head. “Nope.”

“Good.” Wilbur said simply, sighing once more as he stared out the back door into their garden. “…I don’t want to freak you out with too much information at once. I don’t know what’s okay to tell you and what’s going to really make you panic.”

“Neither do I.” Tommy said with a shrug. “I’ll… try to tell you if I want you to stop.”

Wilbur nodded, still apprehensive but willing to continue. “I’m sure you’ve gotten the hints by now but… In this version of… the world, I guess, you’re my brother. Or- step brother, to get technical. Your dad is Phil, his only biological kid. Techno and I were adopted when we were really young, and you came along a few years after us.”

Tommy nodded, letting out a slow breath through his nose. “…Okay. That’s- I mean, we both know at this point that’s not what happened to me me, so- but, you know, I get it.”

“Right.” Wilbur agreed with a definitive nod. “I don’t know what else there really is, I mean- you go to school near here.”

“That’s the same.” Tommy agreed with a nod. “I came here from school, as long as it hasn’t changed since I left, which it hasn’t, that’s the same in both places.”

“You’ve got a couple friends that go there too, Ranboo, Nikki, Jack, and Tubbo-“

“Tubbo?” Tommy asked, interrupting him with a wide-eyed look.

Wilbur’s eyes lit up, excited by the idea of another similarity. “Yeah! Yeah- you’ve got a Tubbo?”

He paused, looking down at the table top. “Kind of, I guess…This morning was the first time I ever talked to him. He got on the bus, had a yellow umbrella… he sat next to me, trying to be all friendly and I-“ He choked on the words, like trying to swallow a heavy stone. “I basically told him to fuck off cause I was tired.”

“Oh.” Wilbur said, the deflation evident in his voice. “Well- that’s okay. Maybe… I’m sure there’s a reason. Besides, if your Tubbo is anything like ours, he’d forgive you in heartbeat. You two have been best friends since you were little.”

“Oh…” Tommy mumbled, his shoulders sinking. In another reality, he and that kid were fucking- buddies. And he’d given him the cold shoulder for the entire bus ride to school, after he’d been nice enough to initiate the most innocuous of conversations.

“Hey.” Wilbur said, grabbing his attention from where his eyes had been glued to the tabletop. “What else, huh? There has to be more. You and your aunt, did you ever go on camping trips when you were little? Dad used to take us all camping in the summer. There’s this lake down south, he has a cabin there.”

“No, I never did anything like that.” Tommy muttered, shaking his head.

Wilbur hummed, nodding once more as they dissolved into silence.

“…Why aren’t you at work?” He asked.

Wilbur scoffed, covering his mouth with a hand. “I- uh… I’m unemployed, currently. I’ve been living with Phil for a while since I had a lot of financial… um, issues. Phil sometimes pays me to clean house, and I’ve been trying to make my own music. I couple of my friends and I practice on the weekends at Ash’s house.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Tommy replied, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I love music.”

Wilbur smiled. “You always have. We play music together sometimes- oh! I guess that’s another thing. You- the you from this world, I mean, play piano.”

Tommy made a noncommittal noise, shrugging his shoulders. “I took piano lessons when I was in like, first grade, but I haven’t played it since.”

Despite everything they’d talked about, that fact seemed to hit Wilbur the hardest. His shoulders slumped, and he leaned back in his chair. Neither of them said anything for a long moment, Wilbur said with his arms hanging limply at his sides, his legs splayed out under the chair with a sigh.

“…Do you… wanna go upstairs and see your room?”

It felt silly to seem surprised by it. Of course he’d have a room in this house. Apparently he’d lived here his entire life, or something like that. He nodded, and Wilbur pushed his chair away from the table easily.

Tommy followed suit, the two of them heading up the stairs to the second floor.

“You’re room is the first door on the right.” Wilbur explained. “The door on the left is the bathroom, we share it, and my room is the farthest door.”

Tommy hummed, and watched as Wilbur reached for the handle, turning it slowly and pushing it open with a squeak. Wilbur stepped inside and moved to the left, making room for Tommy to come in after him.

The comforter on the bed was red, his favorite right down to the shade, with black pillows and a pair of scuffed-looking sneakers kicked halfway under the bed. The closet across from the bed had mirrored doors that were half-covered in polaroids, stickers, and posters, and a desk sat against the far wall with an ancient looking PC sitting under it, and two monitors on top. Next to that, an electric keyboard.

He brushed his hand over the pictures on the closet doors, noticing himself in a few, but mostly… Tubbo, and another girl, and a boy he didn’t recognize. There were a lot of himself and Techno and Wilbur, a few with Phil too.

He plucked one from the mirror, a picture of Wilbur, Techno, and Phil making homemade pizzas in the kitchen downstairs. Phil was piling olives onto his pizza while Wilbur and Techno appeared to be attacking one another with handfuls of flour in the background.

He tucked the photo into his pocket and moved past the closet to the desk, taking a second to kneel down and run a hand over the computer.

“You liked playing video games.” Wilbur whispered when he noticed Tommy’s interest. He folded his arms, leaning back against the door frame. “That was dad’s old work computer. He gave it to you… three or four Christmases ago.”

Tommy didn’t say anything in response, pushing himself back up to his feet and stepping past the desk. There was a small indention in the wall, a bay-like area with a window that led out to the roof. Sitting on the bench was a stuffed cow, it’s ears and nose well loved.

“Do you know what that is?” Wilbur whispered, closer than Tommy remembered him being. He took a step back and looked up at him, noticing the misplaced redness around his eyes. He shook his head.

“His name’s Henry.” He muttered, picking it up with one hand, and holding it out between them. “Mom gave this to you when you were a baby. She…” He sighed shakily. “She loved you.”

Tommy looked down at the cow, before looking back up at Wilbur, surprised to see tears dotting his lashes and one rolling down his cheek.

“Wil-“ He whispered, shaking his head. “I’m-“

“Sorry, I’m- I’m sorry.” He muttered, sighing sharply and brushing the tears away with a quick flick if his thumb. “I feel like you- you died or something. I just-… I don’t know, it feels like you’re- everything is just- gone.”

Tommy nodded, rubbing at his arm. “I’m sorry.”

Wilbur shook his head, setting the stuffed cow back down on the bench before gently hugging him. “Not your fault, kid. You… you’re Tommy, aren’t you? You’re Tommy?”

He nodded, wrapping his arms around Wilbur’s middle.

“Then there’s nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Chapter Text

Neither Tommy nor Wilbur really knew how to break the news of what they’d learned to Techno and Phil. They didn’t quite understand the truth of it themselves, all they knew was the Rubik’s cube controlled some… weird aspects of reality that had, on one hand, changed Tommy’s eye color, and on another it had… apparently changed his entire family.

Was he, Phil, and Techno just… figments? Things formed into reality the moment Tommy flipped the colors on the toy? He had the memories of his entire life with his family, ever since he was a kid up until now, those had to be real didn’t they?

He had a scar on his left arm from a bike accident he had when he was sixteen. He turned, pulling his jacket up to see it on the outer part of his arm. It was still there. Was that proof that he was real, that he hadn’t been created by the universe this morning?

“Tommy.” He muttered under his breath, trying to get the kid’s attention.

They’d been sitting in the living room when Phil and Techno arrived back home. Though Techno was usually the first back, Phil had requested temporarily shorter hours because of… ‘ongoing family issues’ that needed his attention.

He and Tommy had been sitting in his room talking when suddenly he sat up straight and peered out his window, the familiar sound of Techno’s car pulling up into the driveway meeting his ears.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked.

“Techno’s home.” He replied, standing and walking over to the window. “Shit— and Phil too.”

Tommy stood up and walked over to the window beside him. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Techno comes home at three normally, he’s the one who usually gets you from school.” He explained. “Dad’s usually home more around five or six, he must’ve taken time off work ‘cause of everything.”

Tommy leaned away from the window. “…What… do I do?”

“Well, you’ve still got that toy right?” Wilbur asked, turning around and leaning against the window sill. “Do what you did to convince me. They can’t deny that.”

Tommy pulled the toy from his pocket, staring down at it pensively as he turned it over in his hands, being sure not to change the position of any of the pieces. “…You think?”

Wilbur pushed away from the window, reaching a hand forward to ruffle Tommy’s hair. And for what felt like the first time in days, Tommy didn’t flinch away. Despite this he still hesitated for a fraction of a second, but when he saw Tommy’s openness, he smiled, and continued to ruffle his hair.

“Yeah.” He muttered.

Now all four of them were sitting in the living room together, with Techno in one of the armchairs and Phil on the couch, and Tommy and Wilbur sitting on the floor despite the ample seating.

Phil had given Wilbur a surprised look when he’d sat next to Tommy, and the kid didn’t seem to shy away from him as much as he had before. He still leaned away, but he didn’t get up and move, which to Phil looked a hell of a lot like progress.

“Tommy,” Wilbur muttered again, leaning closer, “do you want me to say something?”

Quickly he shook his head, glancing away from the tv screen to meet Wilbur’s eyes. Despite the animated film they were watching, Tommy’s face was stony, no doubt he was thinking about anything but what was on the screen. How the hell were they going to explain this?

But this wasn’t Wilbur’s fight. Despite his instincts to protect Tommy, and his desire to make this as easy on him as he could, he couldn’t spill the news before he was ready. Still… It would be better to get it over with sooner rather than later. They needed to get this done tonight, for Wilbur’s own sake as well as Tommy’s.

“You need to say something after the movie then.” He whispered, leaning in closer to Tommy’s ear. “I’m right here, I’ll back you up.”

“I know.” He replied, nodding once toward him. “I just… need a second.”

Wilbur leaned back, nodding to him as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Tommy?” Phil asked, looking away from the screen when he stood up.

“Just need the bathroom.” He muttered quickly, scampering out of the living room on socked feet, onto the slick wood floors of the hallway.

He took his time going up the stairs, skipping over the guest bathroom on the main floor altogether in favor of the small shared bathroom that he and Wilbur apparently split, though he’d never shared a bathroom with the guy a day in his life. Besides, he felt like if he stepped into the guest bathroom again he might not come back out at all.

Before stepping into the bathroom he reached in and flicked on the light, a habit he’d formed as a kid when he’d watched a horror movie a bit too scary for how old he’d been at the time. With the coast clear he stepped inside and closed the door with a sigh, turning to the mirror.

He looked… okay, he supposed. He definitely looked better than he had yesterday. His eyes still seemed tired but at least he didn’t look like he’d been crying all day. Confessing to Wilbur had definitely helped him feel better, that’s for sure… but the prospect of confessing to Phil and Techno terrified him.

Phil already thought he was crazy, and if things didn’t go perfectly he was definitely going to some doctor’s office, someone a lot worse than Sam and Fran. And Techno… he wasn’t really sure what Techno could do to him, but the idea of being embarrassed in front of him was bad enough.

“You can do this.” He muttered, staring himself down in the mirror. “You can do this. Wilbur said they’d believe you, and he’d back you up. You can do this.”

He pulled the knob on the faucet and quickly washed his hands with cold water, pulling the Rubik’s cube out of his pocket to examine it once again as the water ran.

…It really wasn’t anything special. A plastic toy mass-produced just like all the millions of other Rubik’s cubes out there in the world. It didn’t have any special symbols or colors, it wasn’t particularly important in any visual sense. And yet…

“Tommy?”

He gasped suddenly and quickly turned the water off, pushing the door open with the cube still gripped in one hand. It was Techno. “Yeah?”

“Is something wrong?” He asked, looking up at him from the base of the stairs. “You’ve been up there for—“

“I’m alright.” He interrupted quickly. “I—” He stepped onto the first stair, but suddenly, the cube slipped from his still-wet hand, and began to tumble down the steps. “No—!” He choked, suddenly nauseous as the world around him shifted dangerously, the floorboards beneath his feet disappearing, and reappearing. Something was wrong.

He looked around in confusion, staggering backwards. The world vibrated around him, and he felt himself fall forward, his vision going black before he pushed himself onto his elbows, now sprawled across the main floor. There, lying five feet away from him, was the cube. One of its pieces, a corner, had popped off, now laying a few inches away next to the wall.

The lights flickered overhead, the intensity and buzzing of the bulbs growing louder and then quieter, back and forth, a deep hum that seemed to permeate the entirety of not only his entire body, but the entire house- maybe the entire world.

He reached forward and grabbed the cube with one hand, numbly reaching for the broken piece. He missed it at first, but flattened his hand out and trapped it within his fist, dragging it toward him as his heart jackhammered against his ribs.

As he pressed the broken piece into the spot it belonged in, he worried for a few terrifying seconds that he was too uncoordinated to fix it, that his world was so disastrously out of focus that he wouldn’t be able to do it himself. He tried again, pressing harder on the piece before both the cube, and it’s broken part fell from his numb pin-pricked hands.

”Let me help you with that.”

A voice echoed within his head, and maybe from all around him too. It felt like it came from every corner of the universe, every stop within and without his body, as though the very fabric of space and time was offering to assist him.

The sensation of time moving backwards was something Tommy never thought he’d experience, and which he definitely had no words to accurately describe. The simple description of the act itself, time, but backwards.

And then the toy was in his hand, and he was standing in the bathroom, and everything was fine.

“Tommy?”

The water was still running, but he couldn’t figure out how to raise his hand to turn it off. He felt frozen, swaying imperceptibly side to side with the cube, now whole again, clutched in one hand.

He could hear Techno’s footsteps coming up the stairs, and he could see his hand on the doorframe in his periphery vision, but even so he couldn’t move his head, he couldn’t turn, he barely felt like he could breathe.

“Tommy?” Techno asked, slightly out of breath from how fast he’d climbed the stairs. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

The water was still running. Techno looked between Tommy and the sink a few times before he reached in around Tommy and turned it off himself, throwing them into silence.

“Tommy?” He asked again, for the third… or maybe fourth time. “Hey, I— should I get Phil? I can go get Phil for you.”

He placed a hand hesitantly on Tommy’s upper arm, and suddenly it was like he’d been snapped back into place, his eyes unfocused and unseeing until he was focused and was seeing through his eyes again. Like he’d been floating above everything and then suddenly got sucked back into his body like a vacuum.

He gasped suddenly, his free hand flying to Techno’s wrist and clamping itself there as he took in deep breaths.

“Okay, okay okay— good breaths, good job, but let’s sit down.” He said, using his other hand to steady Tommy by his shoulders and slowly bring him down to the linoleum tiles of the bathroom floor. “You’re okay, you’re in the bathroom on the second floor of our house. I’m Techno, you remember me?”

Tommy turned to him, nodding a few times before squeezing his eyes shut.

“Good, okay, good. Wilbur and Phil are downstairs watching a movie. We were all watching it together, and you got up and said you needed to use the bathroom. Now we’re here, does that make sense?”

Again, Tommy nodded, and despite his hesitancies, he felt more out of it than he could stand. He leaned forward, his forehead hitting Techno’s shoulder, to which the older wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into his side easily, the two sitting there for an amount of time Tommy couldn’t quite determine.

“With my back, on the floor, cold linoleum ice in my growin’ pains,
see the ceiling fan’s turnin’ shape, again, my threads are comin’ loose.”

Tommy looked up, watching Techno’s jaw as he muttered a melody, his thumb rubbing circles into Tommy’s shoulder.

“Yeah I’m one, spoon away, from settin’ the ends of my hair on fire.
If I’m kindlin’ for a little while, at least I’d feel of use.

But maybe then my breath could embody, a wildfire starting.
I’d sweep up the forest floor. And my body breaths life into the corners, be a darker soil.”

“Techno,” Tommy muttered, closing his eyes so he could focus on shaping his mouth into the proper shapes to sound out the name.

“You with me kid?” He asked, giving Tommy’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Not… quite.” He admitted.

“I can tell.” He replied, tilting his head to rest overtop Tommy’s for just a moment before he pulled back, and began his song again.

”Makin’ lists, foldin’ laundry, keepin’ tidy with my radio show,
I’d be lyin’ if I told ya I’m keepin’ tidy anymore.

Yeah I swing, from believin’ that maybe my workin’ will all pay off,
to considerin’ drinking with Molotov, I’m halfway out the do-or

But maybe then my breath could embody, a wildfire starting.
I’d sweep up the forest floor. And my body breaths life into the corners, be a darker soil.

And promise me that you’ll start where I end,
And I promise to give you everything that I am.

It goes on, and on, and on, it goes on, and on, and on.

And in the end, all I hope for, is to be a bit of warmth for you,
when there’s not a lot of warmth left to go around.”

Tommy took a deep breath and slowly, shakily, attempted to push himself back to his feet. Techno stood up beside him and took him by the arm, not pulling, but offering him stability as he forced his numb legs to hold his weight.

“You look pale kid.” Techno muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t like that look.”

“I’m… I’m okay.” He muttered, shaking his head. “I’m just… tired.” Techno hummed apprehensively, but together they headed back out into the hallway, one step at a time.

However it took Tommy longer than it should have to realize they weren’t heading for the stairs. Instead, Techno had led him by the arm into his bedroom, the room he’d never slept in a day in his life but was apparently his.

“What ‘bout the movie?” He asked, looking up at Techno and shaking his head. “-‘M okay, I just needed a second to—”

“You needed a second ‘cause you were having a panic attack.” Techno interrupted, finishing the sentence simply as he lowered Tommy carefully down to the edge of the bed. “You haven’t been feeling well for the past few days. I don’t know how much you… remember, but Phil and Wilbur and I, we’re really worried about you. You’re my little brother,” he leaned forward to tap his forehead against Tommy’s. “Fuck the movie, we can watch it some other time.”

Tommy laughed softly, and as Techno pulled away, he was surprised to see him reach forward and brush his thumb under Tommy’s eyes.

So much for not crying all day.

“Sleep.” Techno muttered, pushing Tommy’s shoulder lightly until he fell back onto his pillows. “I’ll let dad and Wil know what’s up.”

“…Thanks, Techno.” Tommy muttered, turning his head to watch him leave through the door.

He paused for a second, not quite looking back, his hand on the doorframe. He reached up and wiped his hand awkwardly across the door before leaving, pulling it shut behind him, the hall light glowing from underneath.

Chapter Text

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