Chapter Text
"Shit, sorry!" Tommy laughs, bouncing off the man's arm who swipes at him lazily.
"Off with you, little vagrant!" He yells and Tommy yelps, ducking away and picking up his sprint down the street. He can't help but laugh, adjusting his bag and tucking the stolen bread into the ripped material. He should really patch that up- he narrowly avoids a cart with more yells as he ducks down another cobbled alleyway.
The wind blows straw around his feet and he jumps a broom, giggling as a woman scoffs and pulls her children closer. Any other day and he would be more careful, more methodical with his thievery and urge to run, but today was Sunday.
Tommy just laughs off the tension from the aggravated villagers, beating the familiar path behind the town, gravel crunching at his feet as he spots the tiny white building in the distance.
To the untrained eye it was, well, an eyesore.
Dilapidated and neglected, the church was a hindrance easier forgotten by society- but not to Tommy. To him it was sanctuary, a haven of safety and a place he could be, with no one accusing him, spitting at him or yelling obscenities. It was home.
He slows to a steady walk as the village shrinks behind him, drawing his thin jacket around his skinny frame. He twists the bag onto his front without breaking step, delving it and brushing deft hands across the four items inside. Warmth from the freshly baked loaf tickles his finger tips and the boy feels his mouth water. He swigs some water from his canteen and eyes the church again, significantly closer but not close enough just yet.
He glances over his shoulder, grateful for his solitude as he wipes his brow, curls bouncing around his ears. He was a little early, he couldn't expect movement until midday but it was Sunday- and he always woke up extra early on a Sunday.
The church appears through the treeline and Tommy feels his heart leap, he was so close! He breaks into a gentle jog and reaches the doors, tripping over his broken laces as he ducks round the side, easing through a wooden trade entrance barely on its hinges.
He breathes out, stepping into the broken light as dust beams light the church. The benches were swept back and the carpet moth eaten, and, most notably, in front of the alter was the small evidence of his existence.
A couple of blankets he had acquired through the months, a change of ill-fitting clothes, a book, another canteen and a small tranjea for cooking- when he got that lucky.
He throws himself onto the pile and hastily empties his bag, littering the floor with what some may regard as junk, that he (and others he hoped...) would see as treasure.
Inhaling the bread once more, he sets it to the side and delicately lines up the other two items- a faded shell and a cracked rabbit skull. He gazes at them lovingly and pushes the blanket to cover them slightly.
The offerings were laughable, but he had nothing better. And the shell alone had cost him yesterday's grain. He feels a heavy weight settle on his shoulders as he stares at the lump of covered items.
Maybe he shouldn't bother, would they laugh? Would they grimace awkwardly and hand them back? Could his fragile heart take that? He doesn't know, but at the very least they may pretend for his sake to accept their gifts.
He takes a sip of water and stares at the bread. He had to wait, he had to be patient or he would go hungry later. He tucks it away and curls up on the blankets, rubbing his feet together and wincing at the blisters beneath his boots.
He blinks lethargically and waits, just thinking, hoping. Maybe he could close his eyes for just a minute...
...
"You're early"
Tommy sits up so quickly that the world spins, but the hand that settles in his curls does not falter. The blonde rolls his eyes, gazing at the setting sun
"No, you're late" he shoots back, shuffling to stare at the person hovering in front of him.
Technically he should be screaming- any other mortal would when met with a huge being with boar features, royally dressed and adorned with enough weapons to dice a human into a grain of rice.
But Tommy wasn't scared, heck he was fighting the urge to throw himself at the Blood God and cling- but he was a big man, and big men didn't hug-
"I told you he would be waiting"
That's another voice that Tommy recognises, glancing away from the terrifying creature to land his gaze on a man sat lazily on one of the pews. His hair was curlier than Tommy's, darker too contrasting his fluffy yellow jumper and brown trenchcoat. He grins and Tommy can't help but smile back at the God of Music
"He couldn't wait to see us, obviously" teases the Blood God and Tommy scoffs
"As if- I actually live here nimrods, technically you're visiting me" he retorts and they chuckle
"Then maybe we should have knocked?" That's a third voice and Tommy shivers in delight, watching a third man descend from seemingly nowhere, ebony wings gracing his fall as he lands lightly, emerald robes swilling around his feet as he smiles warmly. A warble rises to his lips in greeting "Good evening, Tommy"
Tommy stops himself from vibrating on the spot as the Angel of Death stands a little way away, stretching his wings and rumbling affectionately from his chest. "How are you doing, mate?"
"Well I would be better if Gods kept to a fucking schedule" he snorts and the Blood God huffs
"Theseus, we rule the inter dimensional pathway from Earth to the galaxies beyond. We roam the skies and deliver our consequences and rewards to billions of mortals. We do not stick to a schedule" he deadpans.
"Yeah yeah whatever, you've also got pink hair, broken glasses and a bird brain" he retorts, glancing at all three respectively. When they don't immediately laugh he holds his breath, relieved when the chortling begins. He needed to stop being such a nuisance or they wouldn't even want to visit...
"Yeah yeah, point made, runt" says the Blood God, and Tommy hates how he glows at the affectionate jab.
Tommy shrugs and leans back, wiggling his shoulders. "And besides, if you're late you don't get your gifts any faster" he says quickly, a dull flush coating his cheeks. They all three pause, fixing their omnipotent gazes on him and he laughs.
"What?" He says defensively. The Angel of death- or Philza, as Tommy has recently learned (cue a long conversation of "Seriously, you're the Angel of death literally called fucking Phil!?") tilts his head, seemingly fighting with himself
"Gifts for what?" He asks gently and Tommy ignores him, turning away and removing the blanket before pausing. He cradles the two gifts and stands, shifting from foot to foot.
"I don't know- visiting me or whatever" he mumbles, rolling his eyes. God would they stop fucking staring at him already? He proceeds anyway, approaching first Phil and holding out his hand. Phil stares at the fist then wraps both his hands around Tommy's, his skin stupidly warm and making the human shiver. Tommy drops the item and Phil holds it up curiously.
"I don't know if it's appropriate, you being the Angel of Death and all... but, well, I found it when I was foraging for berries" he says, stepping away reluctantly. Phil remains silent, cradling the rabbit skull with delicate fingers. His wings rise slowly and he seems to notice, pausing and lowering them as though telling them off. Weird.
Tommy doesn't wait for a reply, stepping over to the God of Music- or Wilbur (another conversation regarding stupidly normal names when he's literally an immortal) he holds out his other hand and Wil stands quickly, stepping closer, so close that Tommy could probably touch him.
The Gods were weirdly affectionate at times, taking it in turns to carry him around or ruffle his hair to his half hearted protests. He didn't initiate contact himself, too afraid they would take offence or see him as a clingy child- and besides, he wasn't a touchy person. Or maybe he had just never trusted someone enough to allow them that close. Huh.
Wil does the same as his metaphorical father, enclosing both hands around Tommy's and taking the item curiously before staring at it. It was about the same size as the skull, but more jagged to the touch.
"Yours is a less cool story. I traded it for my grain yesterday- here" Tommy flips it around, holding the spout up to his lips and blowing gently. A broken chord slips out, filling the church as Wilbur gazes wonderingly, taking the item silently and trying too.
He plays more effectively, a smoother sound reverberating off the walls as Tommy smiles embarrassedly. He finally meets Tommy's eyes and the mortal is confused by the conflict written on them. He steps back instinctively, turning to the final God who has remained silent and calculating on the steps next to Tommy's 'bed'. He rises as Tommy approaches empty handed
"I'm afraid I have nothing special for you, Techno" he apologises (okay so his name was slightly better, still fucking weird for an immortal though)
"I do not require a gift, Theseus" he says gruffly and Tommy grins
"Well I couldn't just leave you out" he pulls back his sleeve and twists his mother's solid gold ring around his finger "I don't have any need for sentimental treasure anymore. And I think it will get stolen anyway" he twists it deftly off his finger and presents it shyly to the God.
Techno's treasures were adorned proudly on his neck, chest and arms; great gold chains and lockets, much grander than a grubby gold ring, but he took it as though it were the most precious item in the world.
"It could buy you a month of grain"
Tommy scoffs, breaking the tense atmosphere "It could also buy me a beating if anyone saw it- and besides, there's no challenge in actually paying for food" he laughs. The laughter dies off quickly as he notices their silence. Was he being weird? Shit they didn't like what he had given them, they were probably weirdly freaked out and-
"Thank you, Theseus"
Tommy blinks, nodding slowly.
He jumps as a hand lands on his shoulder, turning to meet the grey eyes of Wil
"We love them" adds Wilbur and Tommy glows
Phil says nothing, just stretches his wings to surround the group, easing a slow hand to Tommy's cheek who breathes in, leaning into the touch. "We thank you, fledgling" he says quietly and Tommy breathes out, smiling stupidly.
He opens his eyes, having closed them instinctively, surprised when arms wrap around his back and tuck him safely into their chest. Tommy groans out of habit- ignoring the smattering of chuckles as warm hands card through his hair. A series of small rumbles and chirps surround him and Tommy rolls his eyes as the Angel of Death turns into a cuddly bird.
"And I'm so sorry"
That catches his attention. Tommy leans away, hating the absence of warmth as he meets Phil's eyes who look broken.
"What? Why?" He asks suddenly. Receiving no answer, he pulls away, ignoring the sad warble from the Angel of Death. He instead meets the eyes of the other two Gods, registering their contesting looks of determination and despair.
"Tommy we- we didn't want to have to tell you like this" Phil starts but Tommy shakes his head, anxiety coursing though his veins. Why weren't they teasing him, laughing with him, was there something wrong? Were they hurt? No they were immortals- what could possibly upset an immortal?
"What is it?" He says, clenching his hands into fists. Vaguely, he registers the orange sweep of sunset casting shadows across the church. But he can see them so clearly, always so clearly.
Technoblade grumbles warningly and Phil winces, avoiding the hurt gaze of his other son. They seem to communicate silently and Tommy waits impatiently.
Finally, Phil pushes away from the other two who make no effort to fight him, just standing back.
"Tommy, I'm sorry we should have told you sooner. We didn't realise how attached- how much we- how much you-" he coos gently and Tommy crosses his arms defensively across his chest.
"Tommy, your world is prospering. The church is abandoned and your people have no need for us anymore. The grain is flourishing, the world is progressing and beginning to set itself to rights. You- your people- have no need for Gods anymore" he finishes quietly and Tommy flinches as though hit
"What do you mean we don't need Gods- we still pray to you!" he counters quickly, feeling his heart rate on his ears. Because if they were saying what he thought they were saying, what he dreaded...
"Tommy we need to move on. Our place is not here anymore"
The four are plunged into silence as Tommy feels stupid baby tears gather behind his eyes. He breathes, he would not let them see him cry
"So you're... leaving?"
Phil says nothing, Wilbur stares at the human blankly, and it is Techno that answers. He just rumbles a quiet affirmation, red eyes scanning the boy in front of him.
"When?"
It's all he can say.
"Soon"
Tommy nods, looking at his hands. Phil steps forward but Tommy steps back.
"Fine"
They gaze at him but Tommy avoids their eyes.
"Tommy, we're sorry-"
"It's okay."
"Theseus, don't-"
"I guess this is goodbye"
They stare at him silently as he turns, collecting his pitiful belongings in his bag. They don't try to stop him. He wants to yell at them. He wants to be angry- but you cannot argue with a gift; he recalls the six wonderful months he got of the Gods- that was more than his town combined got in a lifetime. He was not dependent, he was not attached. And he was not... wanted.
Tommy looks up, feeling shadows creeping at his feet.
He can't say it, he can barely talk. He swings his bag onto his bag. Phil's wings flutter, Wilbur reaches out, Techno huffs but Tommy steps away again, smiling with an eyebrow raise.
He blinks and salutes with a poor imitation of his usual sass "Bye bitches"
He turns on his heel, tears assaulting his cheeks now he feels no eyes on his own.
He slips through the door and allows himself to be swallowed by the darkness.