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Wilbur grabbed his wrist on his broken arm and yanked him forward, the pain flaring and burning so hot it felt cold. His vision whited out, and his legs collapsed under him, finally deciding they were unable to hold his weight. He could no longer feel the cold stone on his bare feet, and he couldn’t figure out if that was a good thing or not. Faintly, he heard screaming, loud and anguished. It might have been him.
The blood rushed in his ears, a continuous noise that drowned out everything else around him, aside from those terrible, terrible screams. The cold heat in his wrist drew any of the attention and energy he could muster, leaving him unable to focus on getting away. A loud crack reverberated through his skull, a sharp spike of pain that quickly (too slowly) turned into a dull, yet still painful, pulsing.
When the pain finally started fading, he could only assume he was dying, which, at this point, sounded like a much nicer fate than having to suffer so terribly. Sure, respawning hurt like a bitch, but at least some of the bruises and cuts would be healed when he woke up. It was almost like falling asleep. He calmed himself, stopped fighting and let the quiet hum wash over him.
Anything was better than having to deal with Wilbur.
No- he shouldn’t be thinking that way. Wilbur was just stressed beyond belief by this revolution, he needed to be empathetic and put himself in Wilbur’s shoes. Wilbur didn’t mean to hurt Tommy, surely, he was just so loud and annoying, and was probably giving Wil a headache. Yeah, that made sense. Tommy could see where his anger and frustration was coming from.
That didn’t change the fact that it hurt like hell. But it was fine. He was strong. He could handle a few bruises, some broken bones.
It was fine.
*
Although Tommy’s wrist ached (and he was sure it wasn’t bending how it was supposed to), he snuck out of Pogtopia to meet up with Tubbo anyway. The concussion he suffered had caused a migraine, the pain spiking every time he moved too fast. It sucked, but he wanted to see his friend.
He stumbled over the large roots that stuck out of the ground, the hundred-year-old trees casting dark shadows that concealed their positions. More than once he scraped his hand on rough bark, or ran face-first into low hanging branches, resulting in a few new injuries, but nothing too major.
He could hear the low humming of the bees and see the bright moonlight ahead. Moving faster, he wove his way through the trees, keeping his fixated on the light as often as he could. Now that he was closer, he could hear Tubbo talking to the bees, cooing quietly.
“Would you like a flower, Mr. Bee? I think you would. Here you are! A nice yellow one, just like you!”
Tommy grinned, bursting from the tree line into the clearing, putting his hands on his hips triumphantly. “Hey, Big Man!” he shouted excitedly. Tubbo looked up and smiled, rising from his crouch next to a bee in a flower. He darted forward, careful not to tread on any of the plants, and wrapped his arms around Tommy.
They stood still for a moment, Tommy silently urging himself not to break down and tell Tubbo everything that had been going on with Wilbur (he needed to be empathetic, Wilbur didn’t mean it).
“C’mon! There are baby bees, they’re super cute!” Tubbo wrapped a hand loosely around his wrist (just like Wilbur did, like how Wilbur pulled and twisted and the pain burned) and led him to a small hive near the opposite side of the clearing, right next to their bench. Tubbo let go and reached into the hive, stilling for a moment, then carefully pulling his hand out.
On it sat a little bee, buzzing happily. It flapped its wings quickly and rose a few inches above Tubbo’s hand. Tommy didn’t really care about the bees, but he liked seeing Tubbo happy (and so far out of Wilbur’s reach).
He snickered and said “Hey Tubbo, do you know how baby bees are made?”
Tubbo smiled and sighed exasperatedly. “Do we really need to talk about this right now? We’re having a nice moment.”
“I’m going to take that as a no. You see, when a mommy bee and a daddy bee love each other very much...” Tubbo was determinedly ignoring him, gently placing the baby bee back in the hive.
Then, not-so-gently, he whirled around and whacked Tommy’s upper arm, clearly holding back a smile by pressing his lips tightly together. “Let’s not talk about that! Nice moment!”
Tommy froze for a second (Wilbur yelling, Wilbur whirling around and hitting him in the face) before forcing a smile onto his face and hopping backward. Tubbo pursued him, now poking him in the ribs just hard enough to make him contort his body into odd positions to squirm away.
The boys laughed, being kids together for once (they were so young, why did they have to be so old?). Tommy retaliated, poking Tubbo back. Finally, he lunged forward and pushed Tubbo, making him fall backward into the soft grass and crushing a few flowers in the process. Tommy threw himself down next to Tubbo and rolled onto his back, looking up at the night sky.
Tommy didn’t want to go back; he didn’t want this fun to ever end. He half-heartedly entertained the idea of going to (L’)Manburg with Tubbo and begging to be let back in, but his pride and fear wouldn’t let him. They would shoot him on sight, and then he’d be right back in Pogtopia with Wilbur mad about his little excursion (but he was always mad, it didn’t matter what Tommy did).
“Do you think you could show me where Pogtopia is? I’d like to talk to Wilbur, I miss him.”
A spike of fear shot through Tommy when Tubbo said Wilbur’s name. “No.” Too late, he realized he was too firm, too quick to answer (how mad would Tubbo be, after being told no? Wilbur always got so upset).
There was rustling beside him, hundreds of grass blades brushing against each other. “Why not? Don’t you trust me, Tommy? I’m literally a spy. If I really wanted to betray you, I would have brought Schlatt and all them here already.”
“Yeah, yeah, I do trust you, Big Man, it’s just...”
“Just what?”
“Wilbur is...” (he wanted to tell him, wanted to warn him) “paranoid. He doesn’t want any information getting to Schlatt somehow.”
Tubbo frowned and sat up. “So he doesn’t trust me.”
Tommy sat up too, making sure to put most of the weight on his unbroken wrist. It made him lean slightly to the left, but it was subtle enough he thought Tubbo wouldn’t notice. “Look, it’s not that. Like I said, he’s just super paranoid right now.”
“So paranoid he lets you meet up with me alone? I’m not stupid, Tommy, so don’t treat me like I am.” His normally happy face had fallen into a glare. “He won’t let me know where Pogtopia is, but he lets you come all the way out here to meet me every day? You could get captured so easily, it’s not even funny.” He leaned closer to Tommy. “It seems to me that he’s only paranoid when it’s about him.”
Tommy leaned away from Tubbo, breathing shallowly, eyes darting around, trying to ground himself before he spiraled downward and couldn’t think. Tubbo’s untucked shirt, the bees, the bright flowers, green grass, the rising sun-
He scrambled to his feet, pointing in the direction of the sun. “It’s rising. We need to go.” His sentences were short, clipped.
Tubbo stood and grabbed his wrist (Wilbur did that). “What happened?”
Tommy tugged lightly, but it hurt too much to pull it away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. C’mon, we need to leave before they notice.” He flicked his eyes from his wrist to Tubbo’s face. “Let me go.”
Tubbo didn’t let go.
(Wilbur didn’t let go either)
“What happened to your wrist, Tommy? What aren’t you telling me? What are you hiding?”
“Let me go!”
(Wilbur kept squeezing, the broken bones scraping against each other in his grasp)
Taking a deep breath (he couldn’t breathe) he yanked his wrist away from Tubbo, flashes of light bursting in his vision and the cold pain traveling up his arm. He stumbled backward and his head spun. His heel caught on the other foot, tripping him, the soft grass cushioning his fall (the hard stone in the ravine never did that).
Tubbo crouched in front of him and cried, “I’m tired of this, Tommy! I’m so tired of having to fight in this revolution! Wilbur doesn’t trust me, Schlatt doesn’t trust me, you don’t trust me. We’re supposed to have each other's backs, so why don’t you trust me?”
“I do trust you! It’s just- I can’t-”
“You can’t what?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know anymore! I’m just- scared- tired- Tubbo, why does it have to be like this?”
There was a beat of silence.
“Then let’s run away.”
The pain that constricted his heart and throat momentarily ceased growing in intensity. “What?” It was barely a whisper, a hoarse noise from the back of his throat.
“We can run away. From Schlatt, from Wilbur, from the revolution, all of it. We won’t have to listen to them, we can make our own rules.” He paused, his voice cracking on the next line. “We can be kids again.”
Tommy hesitated. No Wilbur (but Wilbur didn’t mean it), no war (they were just taking back what was theirs)…
(You and I, Tommy, we only need each other. Tubbo, Niki, they all leave. They’re all traitors, we can’t trust them. But we can trust each other. We have each other’s backs.)
A sick feeling made itself known in his stomach. It was twisted, ugly. He spat angrily, “You just want to give up on L’Manburg, don’t you?” (We can’t trust them) “You just want Schlatt to win.” (We can’t trust them) “He’s going to drive that place straight into the ground!”
“Schlatt isn’t that bad, Tommy! He’s really doing a lot to make Manburg a better place and-”
Tommy said the words he would regret for the rest of his life.
“Wilbur was right.” (We can’t trust them) “You are a traitor.”
He turned and ran.
*
Wilbur was waiting for him when he got back (his wrist hurt). Tommy collapsed, the hard stone unforgiving on his knees. He couldn’t breathe, the pressure around his chest tightening with every move he made.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay Tommy. You’re okay. Just breathe with me.” Wilbur breathed in a pattern exaggeratedly, repeatedly telling Tommy to copy him.
(We can’t trust them)
(Tubbo laughed, spinning rapidly in his small wooden boat. “You spin me right round baby, right round like a record baby...”)
(We can’t trust them)
(“We didn’t start the fire, it was always burning since the world’s been turning!)
(We can’t trust them)
(“Wha- Tubbo! Why are you pretending to be a fucking fish?!” “Bloop.”)
We can’t trust them.
It could have been hours later when Tommy finally got his breathing under control. He didn’t know. He couldn’t think. It was like a movie was playing in his head, all of the moments where he and Tubbo just messed around. Been happy.
Why did Wilbur have to take that away from them? Why did he have to make them grow up and fight in a war? Why did he have to make them die, over and over, why did Eret have to betray them, why did Fundy leave, and Niki, and why did Tubbo have to abandon him with Wilbur?
He was drowning. That’s how it felt. He was drowning and no one could save him. No one cared anyway. His lungs were filling up with water. Or maybe it was blood. He remembered what that felt like, after the duel with Dream. It had been a slow death that time, just waiting for his lungs to fill up with enough blood that he couldn’t breathe.
That was one of the worst ways he had ever died.
Slowly, so slowly, his senses came back to him. The cold ground under him (cold like the pain), the dim lights from the lanterns he had hung, the musty smell that could only come from a hole in the ground, and Wilbur’s arms around him in what was the nicest hug Wilbur had given him as of late.
“It’s alright Tommy. Tell me what happened.”
Tommy only hesitated a moment, guilt for ratting out his friend to Wilbur overridden by the anger he felt. “It’s- it’s Tubbo. He- he- I-” He burst into tears again. Wilbur just kept holding him, in a nice way (It felt like it had been so long since Wilbur was nice).
“I told you, didn’t I? We only have each other.”
Tommy held him tighter.
“Stop seeing that traitor, Tommy. For your own good.”
*
Techno joined them, soon after. Tommy made a point to stick around him as often as he could. Wilbur didn’t hurt him when Techno was around. (But what had happened to only having each other? Why did Wilbur get to choose who they trusted?)
Technoblade was terrifying. He disappeared for hours on end, coming back covered in dirt and blood. Tommy could only guess at what he was doing. He didn’t trust Techno, though. Wilbur wanted him to, but he couldn’t bring himself to, no matter how hard he tried.
He tried to talk to Wilbur, about how he didn’t think Techno was the best thing for Pogtopia. He was flaky, even back when they lived with Phil. Techno showed up when he wanted, and disappeared without a warning. Maybe he would abandon Pogtopia when something else caught his interest.
(Tommy didn’t think he could handle someone else abandoning him.)
It made Wilbur mad, that Tommy was doubting him. Tommy tried not to, he really tried, but something in him wanted to keep fighting, stay set in his ways. He never had liked listening to authority.
But Wilbur wasn’t just some adult ordering him around. This was his brother, who had promised to stick by him no matter what.
(He knew that one day, many years ago, Wilbur had made the same promise to Schlatt. But that was long ago. And Tommy wasn’t like Schlatt, so Wil wouldn’t leave him. He couldn’t leave him.)
Technoblade stayed. He farmed potatoes, gave them a reliable source of food.
And he also grinded for gear. He had full netherite within a week, and another set for Tommy in the next. He offered to get armor for Wilbur, but he refused. That had caused an argument, Techno mad that Wilbur was so arrogant he believed armor wasn’t a necessity in a war.
Tommy hid in his small room for the duration, and didn’t mention that Wilbur never liked armor. That he preferred to fight his wars with words instead of weapons (but were words and weapons really all that different?). And he didn’t mention that maybe Techno would have known that already if he wasn’t gone all the time.
The argument ended with Wilbur punching a wall and Techno storming off to his farms. Tommy slowly emerged and wrapped his hand up.
(Wilbur didn’t say thank you. Tommy wasn’t sure if he really cared anymore. Words were weapons, after all.)
*
The beginning of the end started when Dream visited. There was an ache in Tommy’s chest upon seeing him, making it hard to breathe. (It was just phantom pains, that’s all. It was just him remembering the arrow)
But everything was getting blurry (he refused to admit it was tears) and his throat closed up, so instead of listening to their conversation, he ran.
He didn’t know how long it took for everything to stop hurting. He never knew how long anything took anymore. The sun didn’t shine in their ravine. After that last day in the clearing with Tubbo, he felt like the sun didn’t even exist anymore. Days were an endless cycle of darkness, filled with panic and pain.
Slowly, he crept back into the dark forest and peered around a tree just in time to catch the tail end of Dream and Wilbur’s conversation.
(He could trust Wilbur, they had each other’s backs...)
(right?)
Wilbur was going to blow up (L’)Manburg. He was going to blow it to bits and Dream was giving him the TNT to do it.
Without giving himself time to think (he really should have thought it through) he stepped out from his hiding spot, aiming a loaded crossbow at Wilbur.
“Hand me that TNT.”
And Dream protected Wilbur. And Wilbur just smiled triumphantly. (Why would Wilbur trust him? Why would he trust Dream over Niki and Fundy and Tubbo?)
But Wilbur told Dream to leave them be, and then Tommy’s vision was blurring and he was on the floor. The heel of a boot dug into his ribs (right where Dream had shot him. Was that on purpose?). Then (he was bleeding, his lungs filling with blood) Wilbur was crouched next to him, laughing, and (Wilbur was clutching him desperately, shouting for someone, anyone, to find an instant health potion) he was leaving him there to gasp for air.
It was Technoblade who found him, returning from a long day of farming or fighting or whatever he did all the time.
(One time, when he was 7, Tommy had snuck off into the woods next to his home with a wooden sword, trying to be just like Techno.)
Techno picked him up and carried him back into the ravine, setting him on the small cot in the corner of his room.
(Techno found him, desperately swinging at the zombie advancing on him. He dispatched it swiftly and carried Tommy home.)
He disappeared and Tommy panicked for a second, because he just wanted people to stop leaving him, and then he was back with a regeneration potion.
(Phil fussed over him for the rest of the evening, scolding him and holding him close. Tommy pretended he didn’t see the tears. He didn’t like to think about his dad crying. He just focused on the soft black wings that hid him away from the world, that made him feel invincible.)
Tommy tried to refuse the potion, because those took ghast tears, and they were hard to get, but Techno made him drink it. His chest was still tight though, and his throat burned.
And Techno was telling him to breathe, counting out in a pattern that Tommy tried to follow. He couldn’t disappoint Techno, because who knew how he would react. He used to know, but maybe Techno had changed, just like Wilbur had.
Finally, he could breathe again, and then a thick blanket (but all he owned was a thin, threadbare one) was thrown over him and he curled up under it, pretending it was his dad’s wings.
Pretending like he was invincible again.
*
Techno never asked for his cape back. Neither of them mentioned it.
(The ravine felt a little warmer.)
*
It came crashing down with the announcement of a festival. Tubbo wasn’t a spy for them anymore, but Tommy had always been good at hiding. (He had gotten even better, over the past few months.)
There was a moment of hesitation, when Wilbur asked if he had any new information (but they could trust each other).
Tommy told him.
He didn’t like the look in Wilbur’s eyes.
*
Since the festival had been announced, he had seen Techno less and less. He still dropped by to eat meals sometimes, but more often than not, the baskets of potatoes were left sitting on the floor.
Tommy was afraid Techno knew something he didn’t.
Wilbur disappeared a lot, too. Tommy didn’t know where he went, but when he came back, he always looked exhausted. Most times he went straight to sleep. Tommy missed his brother (his brother hadn’t been with him for a long time) but the more he didn’t see Wilbur, the less pain he was in.
(He didn’t know if feeling relieved made him a bad person.)
*
Wilbur’s mental state kept deteriorating. Techno still wasn’t around.
And Tommy? Tommy wasn’t sure he was even himself anymore.
He stayed in his room most of the time, curled up under that cape.
He missed Phil. He missed when the biggest issue in his life was his kite getting stuck in a tree, when ‘war’ meant he took Wilbur’s guitar and hid it away until enough tickles forced him to give up its location.
Now, his biggest issue was how long it would be until Wilbur beat him to unconsciousness again, and ‘war’ meant dying for something he wasn’t even sure he believed in anymore.
(“Then let’s run away.”)
Tommy clutched the cape tighter. It looked like blood.
(“We can be kids again.”)
He started to cry.
*
The day of the festival dawned. Wilbur pulled him out of bed and ordered him to get ready.
He stumbled out of his room, vision blurry with sleep, still trying to tighten the straps of his chestplate.
Techno intercepted him before he could reach Wilbur and fixed up his armor, then turned away and stalked up the stairs.
(Tommy didn’t say thank you. Phil would have been disappointed. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.)
Wilbur shoved potions into his arms, rambling about something. All Tommy was heard was a buzzing that drowned everything out. Wilbur didn’t seem to be bothered, so he didn’t mention it.
It had been a while since he dared speak to Wilbur. Maybe even since that fateful day with Dream and the TNT. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, that might distract him from that buzzing.
Nothing came out. Wilbur didn’t notice, so he just closed his mouth and continued preparing for war.
That’s what this was. War. And no matter what Wilbur said, Tommy wasn’t sure it was entirely justified anymore.
Maybe (L’)Manburg could never have a happy ending.
(Tommy just wanted his brother back.)
*
Somewhere overhead, a crow cawed loudly. Wilbur was speaking, ranting and raving, but Tommy couldn’t hear. That damn buzzing was so loud.
(The voice wasn’t his brothers, anyway, so it’s not like it mattered.)
He just nodded in agreement and kept trudging through the dark forest, seemingly infinitely caught in that moment before the sun started really rising. For now, the forest was still dark.
Tommy hoped the sun never rose. He wished the moment would last forever, if only so that the festival never started, and he didn’t have to fight.
(He was scared.)
The crow cawed again. Without a shred of remorse, Wilbur sent an arrow its way, silencing it.
Seeing its limp body fall to the ground, Tommy sucked in a breath. Wilbur glanced back and raised an eyebrow, challenging Tommy to question him.
Tommy stared at the ground and stayed quiet.
*
They split up when they reached Manburg. Wilbur and Tommy scaled a building and flattened themselves on the roof. Technoblade joined the people already at the festival.
They waited.
*
Tubbo was at the festival. Tommy knew he would be. He was Secretary of State, after all. But seeing him, laughing and so happy without Tommy, was like a punch in the gut.
Wilbur placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and smiled at him (It didn’t reach his eyes). Tommy attempted to smile back, but it was more like a grimace. Wilbur looked disappointed. It made Tommy want to cry.
He didn’t.
*
(They all had braids. It was the most obvious thing that connected them as a family. Techno’s was the most obvious, waist-long and pink. Phil’s was just behind his ear, small and unobtrusive. Wilbur’s was somewhere in the mass of curls that covered his face. Tommy’s hung in front of his ear.)
Wilbur braided Tommy’s hair while they waited. Tommy could never figure out how to braid without making knots.
It had been a while since his braid was intact. Wilbur braided it incorrectly- behind his ear, like Phil’s.
Tommy didn’t mention it.
*
When Schlatt appeared on stage, Wilbur motioned for him to enderpearl over. In one quick movement, Tommy had a sword against Quackity’s neck and Wilbur had a crossbow aimed at Schlatt.
He felt their eyes on him. Burning through him. He fixed his gaze far above their heads and ignored it.
The buzzing was still there. Loud and annoying. Wilbur was speaking (ranting, raving) again. Tommy didn’t hear. He didn’t care to hear.
(There were crows on the horizon.)
*
Techno joined them onstage. He had a crossbow loaded with fireworks in his hand.
His cape looked like blood.
Tommy looked away again.
*
His hand moved against his will. Wilbur shouted something and shot Schlatt, in the neck. His body fell to the ground. Blood spread over the polished wood. Then the sword was slicing open Quackity’s neck and he was falling.
There was screaming.
Tommy stepped back and stared at the bodies.
Wilbur was laughing. People were yelling at him.
Tommy stayed quiet.
A group of crows is called a murder. Tommy thought it was fitting that they were there, watching. Cawing. Calling out for someone.
(One time, when he was 7, Tommy had snuck off into the woods next to his home with a wooden sword, trying to be just like Techno)
He lifted a crossbow and shot one, just to watch the blood spray.
(Maybe this was how Techno made himself feel invincible. Hurt others before they can hurt you.)
Numbly, he reloaded the crossbow. Fired into the crowd.
(He wasn’t sure he wanted to be like Techno anymore.)
Techno was laughing. There were explosions. The smell of burning flesh.
(Too late.)
Wilbur snuck off. Tommy didn’t notice, busy methodically reloading and aiming the crossbow.
(Techno taught him to shoot. Maybe that’s way he was getting headshots with every arrow.)
The buzzing grew louder with every shot. Until there was no one left.
And people respawned, appearing back on the edges of Manburg.
Tommy raised the crossbow again.
And then everything exploded.
*
Everything was black when he woke up.
(He wasn’t sure if he was really awake. He felt like he was swimming through honey.)
And Phil was there. Unwrapping his wings from where they had been covering Tommy.
(They didn’t make him feel invincible anymore)
Tommy raised a hand to his hair and yanked, letting the sharp pain bring everything into focus.
The buzzing was gone. In its place, a suffocating silence.
Tommy wasn’t sure which he preferred. At least the buzzing distracted him from his thoughts.
Phil pulled his hands away from his head gently. Tommy let him.
He let everything fade, let the silence consume him.
*
The next time he woke up, Tubbo was there. There were tears in his eyes.
Tommy turned away. (Oh, how he wished for the buzzing.)
He let the silence consume him.
*
The next time, it was Quackity.
He let the silence consume him.
*
(He hoped he never woke up.)
*
The first words he really heard in a long time were familiar.
“Have some blue, calm yourself.”
Tommy took the blue.
And Wilbur was there.
But like Tommy, he wasn’t all there.
The rambling faded into the background.
Tommy listened.
*
Every day, he was offered more blue. He didn’t know how long it had been.
Every day, he took the blue.
Every day, he listened to the ramblings of a shell.
And every day, he clutched the blue and hoped to feel invincible again.
*
Phil was there. Wilbur offered the both of them blue.
Only Tommy took it. He took Phil’s, too, just to make Wilbur happy.
The smile on Wilbur’s face, so out of place, so foreign, made him feel something again.
(Things weren’t the same anymore.)
The blue stained his hands (like blood).
He started to cry.
*
The first time he went outside, he didn’t know what to expect. He felt like it should have been dark, empty.
The sun was shining.
He went back inside.
*
The second time he went outside, it was night. He sat on the bench until that moment, right before the sun started really rising.
He went back inside.
*
Every day, he left the building to watch the almost-sunrise.
And every day, he went back in before it really rose.
*
Until one day.
He was on the bench.
Tubbo joined him.
Neither said a word. Tommy hadn’t spoken in a long time.
He watched the sunrise.
He turned to look at Tubbo.
Tubbo smiled.
(maybe things could get better.)
(maybe)
He smiled back.
(Tubbo’s face lit up and for just a brief moment, just a split second, Tommy felt invincible again.)