Chapter Text
Tommy sat on the hotel bed, his phone in his hand, finger hovering over a contact.
Techno left for his book signing 30 or so minutes ago, and that left Tommy alone. He tried distracting himself, He DID, but he got bored fast. So… he turned on his phone.
63 missed calls from Ranboo and 99+ unread messages.
A few from Phil as well but nothing above 30, same with Beau, Grain, and Tubbo, but they didn’t even reach double digits.
He hasn’t been able to look away from the contact, he wants to so bad, he wants to call them and tell them he is okay, and that he will be home soon-But he doesn’t want to go home, he doesn’t want to see them. He is upset beyond belief and… He misses them. No, he doesn’t, but he does, and he hates it. He hates himself for it. But fuck he-
He shakes his head and drops his head to his knees, taking a deep, shuttering breath.
No. He left for a reason. They hurt him. They lied. They broke their promise. They left him first.
He drops his phone and stands up. He needs to do something. He needs to- what does he need? He doesn’t even know!
He left, why the hell did he leave?
You overreacted, what the hell is wrong with you?
“No, I didn’t they- they…” He blinks his eyes, “They hurt me.”
Did they?
“Yes! They-They sided with… with him .” He spits, grabbing his hair, “They lied! They chose HIM !”
Was he wrong though?
“Yes!” He shouts, “Yes-I-I didn’t-I was a-” His voice breaks, “Kid, I am a kid, I didn’t deserve that.”
Of course, you did, you're a freak, a waste of space.
He shakes his head, “No, please-”
Pathetic.
Tears fall down his face, “I-I didn’t-”
Weak.
He falls to his knees, curling in on himself, “I-I-I’m s-so-sorr-sorry!” He shouts, body shaking.
You are nothing.
He nods, “I know.” He whispers, grabbing his hair. He knows it’s his voice, his own conscious but god does it sound like Wilbur, “I know, I am worthless, I am a waste, I am useless, I am pathetic, I am weak, I have no place here, I deserved it, I am annoying, I am loud, I-” His voice is broken, practiced with the words, “I hate him!” He exclaims suddenly, slamming his fist onto the floor, “I hate him!” Tears hit the carpeted floor, making a small drip sound each time, “I Hate all of them!” His voice hurts, it feels sore, broken, “I hate everyone!” His hands find his arms and his nails dig into his skin, “I-I-I-” He sobs, cries, breaks down and does nothing to stop it. He has no one here to help him, just like always, he is alone. Ranboo was there, weren’t they? They had been there, right?
No. No, they weren’t. Not when it mattered or counted. They weren’t there when he painted his arms and legs red. They weren’t there when he passed out because he drank too much. They weren’t there when he dealt with hallucinations because he’d gotten too high. They weren’t there when he put a gun to his head. They weren’t there when he almost pulled that god-damn trigger. The trigger of a gun he… a gun he packed. He packed the gun. He just remembered. He looks up at his bag, sitting innocently on his bed. He moves to his feet robotically, face going blank as he walks over to the old beaten-up school bag he has had forever. He dumps it onto the floor and out falls a sleek black pistol.
Tommy stole it 3 years ago from Quackity. He has never shot it. He knows it’s loaded, he honestly forgot he had it half the time. He hadn’t even meant to pack it, but he kept it in his old school bag. So he has it. He… He has a gun he has held twice. Once when he stole it. Once when he almost killed himself with it.
Ranboo hadn’t helped him through that. Ranboo was out that night hanging out with friends. They went out to eat with the money they took from Tommy.
The only reason they hadn’t died that night was… a mix of things. He looks down at the red bandana around his wrist. That and he had been dragged into his world. His version of Techno held him and comforted him.
Ranboo wasn’t there.
He picks up the gun and sits on the bed. Eyes blank, head spinning.
He laughs dryly, “They never cared. Did they?” He spits, holding the barrel up and to his temple, “It was a lie. It was all fake?” He asks the air.
The universe has great timing. His phone rings on the floor.
‘Do not enter is written on the doorway- ’
Fills the room. Tommy leans down and picks up the phone before he can think too much. He presses answer.
“The fuck you want?” He mutters, staring at the floor.
“ Allium?” Their voice is full of concern, relief, and confusion, “Oh, thank god! Tommy, please, where are you? Please I can come to pick you up, just please, are you okay?”
He laughs, “No. I am not okay.” He says, his tone void of care, “I am gone. Stop fucking calling me. Tell the dipshit the same damn thing.”
“ Allium- ”
“Tommy.”
“ -Please, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. It was stupid, wrong, and horrible, and I am so sorry. Please come home, I can make it up to you! I-I-please, please Tommy.” They beg and ramble and Tommy scoffs.
“I don’t care. That place isn’t home anymore. YOU aren’t home anymore.” He states, and he isn’t sure who he is trying to convince, “I never want to see you. Talk to you. Be around you. Hear your voice. Acknowledge you. EVER again, do you understand me?” His voice is full of anger, pain, and spite, “I HATE you. You agreed with him. You sided with him, what he said, what he did. You lied. You left. You hurt me. YOU left a scar this time.” He chokes out a laugh, “Nothing will fix this. Enjoy your perfect little life with Phil, Purpled, and him. ”
Ranboo’s voice grows frantic, “T ommy please, please, no, no I am sorry, I know what I did wasn’t okay! It was -”
“I DON’T CARE!” He screams, “I hate you! Leave. Me. ALONE!” He yells one final time before taking his phone from his ear and hanging up, he blocks Ranboo, and then Phil drops his phone to the floor. The gun finds his head again as he sobs into the air, hand clutching the fabric under him.
He can’t help but smile.
“See you in hell motherfuckers.” He mutters. His finger finds the trigger and-
“Sir?” A voice calls, followed by knocking, “I am going to have to ask you to stop screaming, it is disturbing other guests.”
Tommy pauses. Then he laughs, dropping the pistol, running a hand through his hair defeated. He won’t do it. He can’t do it. But it’s fine. He has other ways to leave reality behind. He gets up and stumbles over to the door, pulling it open.
He puts on a smile, greeting the same redhead from yesterday, “Hey, sorry about that. I was watching TV, guess it was too loud.” He laughs. Running a hand through his hair. This guy knows he is underage… how is he supposed to get alcohol from him? He would just go buy some, but he doesn’t have his fake ID with him or know where any stores are. Huh… It works with people back home? He hates it, it’s the last resort method, but he did also almost just shoot himself, so…
“No problem, just try to keep it down?” The man requests.
Tommy nods leaning on the door frame, “Yeah sure, say…” He hums, “You guys have room service right?”
The man perks up, “Yes! Yes, we do. Can I get you something?” He questions.
The guy is wearing a white button-up shirt with black dress pants. His hair is swiped to the side, fluffy looking, and he is about Tommy’s height, maybe taller with the shoes he’s wearing.
Tommy nods, “Yeah actually, you guys have a bar?” He tilts his head, curiosity in his voice.
The man deflates a tad, “We do yes… But Mr. Blade said you were under 21, so I can’t-”
Tommy groans, “Come on.” He whines, grinning, “Please? I won’t tell him. I’ll even put in a good word for you! Saying you had amazing room service.” He tries.
The man shakes his head, “Sorry, but-”
Tommy sighs. Fine. Last resort it is.
He pushes himself off the wall and steps forward, tilting his head up at the redhead. The man links taken by surprise. Tommy notes that the guy looks under 18 as well. Well, his job just got a lot less awkward, and a whole lot easier.
“Please?” He questions, “It would mean a lot to me.” He lets his voice lower to sound more pleading and makes his eyes sad, puppy dog eyes he thinks they are called, “You're a handsome guy, look like you would indulge in a drink or two occasionally.” He lightly grabs the redhead's arm.
The guy splutters and swallows air, “Uh, well-” He tries.
Tommy is far from proud of this little talent he picked up. And he means FAR from proud of it. But what works, if he can use his looks to his advantage why shouldn’t he? He does what he can to survive, and currently, that alcohol will be what keeps a bullet out of his head. So if he has to flirt with the random guy so what? He will live with it. He has done worse and filtered with worse.
“Come one, help a guy out?” He tries again, stepping closer, “Just one bottle of vodka, that is all I want.” He mutters, “You can do that for me, right?” He smiles slightly, making his eyes sad, pleading.
The guy nods, “Yeah, yeah I uh- I can.” He agrees, “Just please uh, step back?” He questions, looking away from Tommy.
Tommy grins and does so, “Thanks! You're the best, I owe you one.” You say with a wink before he closes his door. He sighs and rolls his eyes. Ew. Just- ew. How people find things like that attractive is a mystery to him. He doesn’t do romance. Not his thing. But, he can when he needs to. Never farther than AT MOST holding someone's hand. They try to kiss him, or even farther than that? They get punched.
He watches Wilbur stroll into the store, smile wide and eyes bright. Tommy walks beside him silently, holding his older brother's hand as they enter a liquor store. Wilbur glances down at him and winks, before walking over to a shelf and grabbing a few bottles of clear liquid. He then takes them to the counter and sets them down.
The man standing there had dark, short-cut hair. He was taller than Wilbur, but that was fair, Wilbur was only 16 or so at this time, making Tommy 6, maybe 7. The guy is wearing a black tank top and some jeans. His skin is an olive color and his eyes are a deep blue color.
“ID.” The guy says, looking Wilbur up and down.
Wilbur frowns, “Don’t have one.” He says sadly, “But you think you could help me out?” He questions leaning on the counter. “Please? I can pay.” He promises, making his voice sound more innocent, and quieter.
He shakes his head, “Sorry kid, but-”
“Alternatively?” Wilbur whispers, leaning forward, tilting his head up at the guy, “Just gotta hook me up with the stuff wherever I want it.”
Tommy watches with confusion as the guy tilts his head, “Yeah okay.” He agrees, “Just the two bottles?” He asks, looking Wilbur up and down. Tommy frowns more and shuffles closer to his brother.
Wilbur nods, “Yep!” He leans back, resting a hand on Tommy’s head. A smirk on his face as he grabs the two bottles, “Cya tomorrow.” He says with a small wink as he leads Tommy out of the store. Eyes watch them go and Wilbur’s grin never falters.
Tommy looks up at Wilbur, “Wilby?”
“Yes, sunshine?”
“What… why was he looking at you like that? It made me feel weird.” He mutters as they get into Phil’s car. Wilbur stole it for the night.
Wilbur laughs and leans back in the seat, “That, my dear Theseus? It is how you get whatever you want from someone.” He states and Tommy makes a confused noise, “If you have a pretty face, you can get whatever you want sunshine.” Wilbur explains, setting a hand on Tommy’s head, “Especially when you know the kinda person you're talking to. All I have to do, especially in this shithole of a town is blink my eyes and make a promise, and BOOM whatever I want!” He laughs. Starting the car up.
Tommy nods along, “Will I be able to do that?”
“No doubt sunshine.” Wilbur confirms, “You're my baby brother, after all, me but blonde with blue eyes. But keep in mind, if someone ever tries doing something you don’t like or aren’t comfortable with?” Wilbur’s smile turns dark, “Tell me and I will take care of it.”
Tommy nods, not entirely sure what his brother meant, just happy that Wilbur was talking to him and being nice,” Okay Wilby!” He agrees.
Wilbur looks back at Tommy quickly, carefully cupping the side of the child's face. He has a small smile, but his eyes shine with possessiveness. Tommy is too young to understand, too young to know that that look is promising danger if he steps even the slightest bit out of line. It is promising a locked closet door for hours on end. This look means Wilbur is scared, it means he thinks there is the risk of Tommy leaving his side, of Tommy replacing him.
It means Wilbur thinks Tommy may stray off from him and become something horrible. His own person.
“Sunshine?” His voice coats with honey as Tommy leans into the hand.
“Hm?” He hums.
“Promise me something?” Tommy nods, “You are my little brother, my sunshine. That no matter what, when I call, you will come home. Home to me.” He whispers, voice gentle, and Tommy is young to notice that hint of rage in that tone. It isn’t a question. This is a test.
Tommy opens his eyes. All the 6-year-old sees is his favorite brother, his guardian, his idol, and the person his life is centered around, “I promise.” He says with a smile.
He shudders at the memory of that night. He takes a deep breath. He isn’t Wilbur. He is Tommy.
He walks over to the bed and sits down, staring at the floor, “I am not Wilbur.” He whispers, grabbing his phone from the floor, and opening the gallery. He scrolls down. He scrolls down for a very long time. He scrolls to the bottom of his hundreds of pictures, some of him and Ranboo or him and Beau, but mainly pictures of sunsets or the sky or things like that.
He reaches his first photo. The first picture he ever took with this phone.
He looks down at Wilbur’s face. It is the only picture Tommy had kept of his oldest brother. Tommy smiles slightly. He hasn’t looked at it in a while, but today is the day to remember, apparently.
Wilbur is sitting on the roof of the old house, guitar in hand as he plays, he has a bright smile and a calm look. He is wearing an ugly yellow sweater and some sweatpants. His glasses are resting on his face neatly and his hair is a mess of brown curls.
He was singing a song that night. Tommy doesn’t remember the name, or lyrics anymore. Just like he doesn’t remember anything else from that night. Because he didn’t take this photo. Techno did. Because this is one of Techno’s old phones he had left behind. Tommy started using it when his old one broke. It is old with a cracked screen, but it works.
It is then that his emotions turn sower to the photo.
Because Wilbur is 14 in this photo.
Tommy was 4
He never got to see this, this side of Wilbur, this is back when he thought his brother was perfect, could never do anything wrong. He thought the abuse was love. Techno got to see this. Techno got to see Wilbur happy, normal. Techno-
Experienced the same things he did.
Just then a knock rang out. Tommy turned his phone all the way off and stood up. When he opened the door, the red head guy stood there with a bottle of a familiar liquid inside. He forced a smile, accepting the bottle, “Thank you.” He says, leaning against the door with his fake smile. Fake confidence. Fake appreciation. Fake. Just like his family. Fake. (Techno isn’t fake. Techno is nice.)
The guy smiles, “Yeah no problem.” He says slowly.
“Keep this between us, yeah? My brother can’t know, he will freak.” He laughs, unscrewing the bottle and putting it to his lips. Pouring the burning liquid down his throat with practiced ease. He welcomes that feeling embraces it like an old friend, and lets the pain take over hold of his mind, his actions, him. He lets it take control and stop his thoughts from spiraling into pure chaos.
That's what Phil and Wilbur did, so why can’t Tommy?
The guy nods, “Yes, yes of course.” He agrees, “I will not speak a word of this.”
Tommy brings the bottle down to his side and steps forward, a small smile on his face, “Good.” He hums, tilting his head, “How old are you?” He questions. He looks older up this close…
He steps back, and Tommy steps forward, “I uh- I am 22.” He states, looking down.
Tommy hums. Well, he was wrong the first time. Eh, “Fine by me.” He says with a grin.
The guy looks away quickly, “I have to get back to work, enjoy your vodka.” The guy stammers out before rushing down the hall quickly.
Tommy laughs and leans back against the wall, rolling his eyes. It’s too easy. He brings the bottle back to his mouth and slips back into his hotel room.
It is a few hours later when he hears a knock at his door again.
He has gotten at least 3 more bottles since then, all empty around him. The gun is somewhere on his bed, his phone is… somewhere, he might have broken it… Hehe, who cares? He giggles as he stumbles to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall. He has been watching stupid ROM cons and staring at the ceiling the last few hours. It has been great! He hasn’t had to THINK, god it is amazing! It has been a while since he got this drunk… last time was-That night. A night he isn’t going to think about!
He gets the door and pulls it open as he slouches against the wall.
“Hey Theseus, I picked up coffee on the way-” Techno’s eyes widen as he blinks.
Tommy reaches for the cup, “Thaankss Techno.” He laughs.
Techno pulls the paper cup away with a furrowed look, “Theseus, are you drunk?”
Tommy shakes his head and puts a finger to his lips, “Nooooo!” He laughs, “You aren’t supposed to know, so you gotta-” A hiccup interprets him, “-Keep it secret. Mk?” He whispers as if it were a secret.
Techno frowns, staying quiet for a while before sighing, “Okay, let's get you sober. Then we can talk.” The older says, voice going monotone.
Tommy laughs as he stumbles back into the wall, “MK!” He shouts, as Techno walks into Tommy’s hotel room and shuts the door behind himself. He then sets the two cups down on the table in the corner before turning to Tommy.
“Theseus, please lay down. Do you have any water?”
He shakes his head with a childish look, “Nope! Nope- Ha, that’s a funny word.” He laughs, sliding down the wall, “Nope, Nope, Nope, Nope!” He chats, swaying his head.
Techno sighs and walks over to the blonde kid on the floor, “Up we go.” He mutters, pulling Tommy into his hold, wrapping an arm under his legs and his other around his back, “I didn’t think you of all people would drink Thes.” He states.
Tommy shrieks as he is lifted into the air then starts laughing, “Aww! Techno is worried, Techno worried!” He exclaims, going limp in Techno hold, “It’s okay Techie, wanna know a secret?” He whispers, eyes wide.
Techno sets Tommy down on the bed gently, “Sure Theseus.”
“Phil and Wilbur drank too.” He whispers, going limp on the bed, “But they got mean, really mean.”
Techno nods, “I know Theseus.”
“But-But then I started to drink right?” He turns to Techno, “And it made it so much quieter, and made me feel all fuzzy and like… Like… alive.” He grins, sitting up and grabbing Techno’s shirt, “It made it hurt less.” He giggles. Head falling onto a frozen Techno’s chest.
“Made what hurt less?” He questions softly, slowly running a hand through Tommy’s hair. His stare was distant. He drank the first year he moved away, a lot. He was numb through the whole thing. Wilbur was an angry drunk and Phil was a mix of numb and angry. Tommy is a… Funny drunk? He isn’t sure yet. He just never thought Tommy of all people would… Tommy is 15. Fuck.
“All of it.” Tommy whispers, “The thoughts, the bruises, the scars, the knife.”
Techno looks down, “The what?”
“The burn, the- huh?” He looks up with foggy eyes.
Techno furrows his eyebrows, “Did you say KNIFE Theseus?”
Tommy nods, “Yeah, it makes me feel better.” He whispers, eyes wide with… well Techno doesn’t actually know.
Techno nods and sits down on the bed, “Can you show me?” He asks, keeping his voice soft, “The cuts.”
Tommy hums, looking up and then back at Techno nodding.
He pulls his legs up closer to him and after a few seconds of struggling is able to pull both his pant legs up to his upper thighs. He is wearing black sweatpants, and a red oversized hoodie, so it’s easy enough. He then pulls up his sleeves and holds his arms out to Techno.
Techno looks at his baby brother's arms and legs, covered in new and old scars. He looks at the words carved into his body, he looks at the lines cut through his name, and he looks at the random spots of strange scars. Caused by a lighter. He was burning himself.
“Theseus…” He whispers.
Tommy shrugs, looking at Techno innocently, “I like red, it is pretty.” He whispers, giggling slightly.
Techno takes a deep breath, “Red your favorite color?”
“Mhm!” Tommy hums, suddenly dropping forward, head landing on Techno’s legs as he proceeds to curl into a ball and close his eyes, “Techie, promise not to tell on me? Do’ want Tech mad at meeee.” He mutters, words slurring slightly “I just got ‘em back… can’t lose ‘gain.”
Techno nods stiffly and lays a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Okay Theseus, your secret is safe with me.”
“Than’ you…” He mutters.
“Hey, hey.” He shakes Tommy slightly, “How about you change into something more comfortable first?” He suggests.
Tommy grumbles but sits up nonetheless, “Whyyyyyyyyyy.” He complains, his face morphing into a childish pout.
Techno laughs lightly, “Because, brush your teeth well you're at it?” He recommends as he helps Tommy stand. The boy stumbles, laying the majority of his weight, (Which is concerningly not a whole lot.)
“I can stand by myself.” The blonde mutters, “I- ‘m a big man!” He proclaims, stepping back, nearly collapsing but catches himself. Basically strutting over to the bathroom, “See!” He puts his arms up, puffing out his cheeks. Techno just laughs and shakes his head, “You guys have noooo reason to be worried!”
Techno hums, “Yeah? Who else told you this was a bad idea.” He hums as Tommy slams the bathroom door.
“Red head guy! He gave me da vo… vod? Video… no, vodkra?”
“Vodka.” Techno supplies.
“YES!” Tommy shouts, followed by a crashing sound, and Techno grimaces, “I am okay! But anyway, as I was-” Another crash, “AH!- saaaaaaying, Techie, did you know how easyyyyyyyyy it is to get people to give you vrakya?” He questions, followed by the water turning on.
“Vodka, and no I didn't, considering you are 15.”
“Yeaaah! Wilby taught me, I just was like, ‘damn, you're hot.’ and he got me the vlokyer!” He cheers, throwing the door open, now wearing a pair of white shorts and- a purple, way too large hoodie, “Well, I didn’t say THAT but implied it and was all like.” He leans on the door, “Hey, get me the vlak, and I’ll put in a good word for you, and you're like, damn, you know?” He giggles, stumbling over to the bed and flopping down, giggling more.
Techno nods, “Uh huh.” How was he getting farther from the word Vodka? “And who is, “Redhead guy?” If I may know.” Techno requests.
Tommy hums, “Mat.” He furrows his eyebrows, “No- Mas? Mac… Max? MAX!” He snaps, “Maxy, bitch guy, front desk, prick, snob!” He lists off names, putting a finger up for each, “Don’t worry tho, he isn’t aaaactually attractive. He is way below MY standards, I used to joke that Ranboob was my standers, the reality is I just don’t like people like that.” He rambles, kicking his legs and swaying his head.
Techno frowns, “Hm, okay, let's get you to sleep Theseus.” He says, standing up.
Tommy groans as he rolls onto his stomach, spreading his body out like a starfish, “Noooo.” He says, giggling again.
Techno grabs one of the blankets from the floor, (Why they were there is a mystery to him.) and throws it over the top of his little brother. He then walks to the bathroom and grabs a glass on his way, he fills it with water and by the time he has returned, Tommy is out cold. He has wrapped the blanket around himself like a cocoon and is snoring softly Techno smiles slightly, setting the cup down, and presses a kiss to his brother's head, “I will be right back.” He promises quietly.
He then slips out of the room, making sure to grab the room key, so he can get back in.
(Tommy wakes up in a haze, confused a few hours later. He doesn’t remember much… Flashes of Techno, he is stumbling- He can’t remember. There are no bottles in the room anymore, and any sign of the vodka was gone. Tommy shrugs and slips back to sleep. Assuming he was just exhausted.)
Techno smiles as he discards the empty vodka bottles in the bin out back of the hotel. He also cleaned the quite frankly, destroyed hotel room, up a bit. He put the things Tommy had apparently dumped onto the floor from his bag, back inside. Found the boy's phone, on, unlocked, next to the window, hidden by the curtain. Techno hates to admit he stared at the photo displayed on the phone longer than he would like to admit. He remembers that night vividly. That night Wilbur played him, Jubilee Line. A song he had written, and wanted to show off. Techno listened happily. That was one of the last good memories he has with his brother… He shook it off and turned off the phone. He put it on the charger and set Tommy’s coffee in the microwave.
Techno found the gun. He ignored it. He wouldn’t assume what it was for. He put it in the bag, shoving it to the bottom, praying that was where it should be.
He has no intention of telling Tommy what the kid told him. That would scare him away and Techno knows it. Tommy is private, he can tell by just looking at him, and would kill either Techno or himself if he knew he’d told Techno what he had. So? Tommy rambled on about Ranboo and some random plants before Techno convinced him to go to bed. He will talk with Tommy about drinking another time. If he remembers? Techno will do his best to comfort his little brother.
They are leaving early. He has his laptop and is sitting next to Tommy, booking the flights home already. They can stop by the butterfly garden before they leave. He looks at Tommy and smiles, running a careful hand through his hair.
“I am so sorry I had a part in this.” He whispers, before returning to booking 2 first-class tickets, “Love you Theseus.”
Tommy isn’t awake to hear the words. But if he was, he would have said, “Love you to Techno.”