Chapter Text
Wilbur rushed towards the kid as soon as he recognized him. He wrapped his arms around Tommy for a hug, his arms gripping tightly onto the younger. He buried his face slightly into the blonde- no white strands of his hair. “Oh my god Tommy what the fuck happened?! You’ve been missing for a whole goddamn month! Where did you go?! Were you in danger?! Are you hurt?! Was someone keeping you hostage?! Did you get lost in the biomes?!”
Wilbur continued to ramble questions as he gripped onto Tommy tightly. His voice high pitched as his worry bled through into his words. Wilbur paused for only a second when it hit him that the state Tommy was really in. His clothes torn, blood staining the fabric. It faintly reminded him of when Tommy was younger and Wilbur would finger paint with him, only this time it was a lot more dangerous. His stark white hair was stained with red and matted to his head.
Wilbur was so close to just having a mental breakdown. Tommy was back, but he was injured and hurt. Tommy didn’t seem to be responding which scared him the most. He wanted so badly to shake the boy until he told Wilbur everything. Wilbur had been so worried for the whole month and now that worry was doubling. He knew he had to think a little logically about this so shoving down his worry, he took a slight breath and let his grip on Tommy loosen.
“Come on Tommy, we need to get you to the bathroom now.” Wilbur quickly led Tommy away to their small bathroom. It was a decent size for one person, with a toilet, mirror, and sink all fitting into it. A small bath was in the corner with some essentials as well. The two of them never really needed a bigger bathroom because it was only the two of them. Wilbur inwardly cursed at himself for not taking the time to make it bigger, that way he could easily maneuver and help Tommy with his injuries better.
He picked Tommy up with ease to place him on the small counter. He quickly accessed the boys injuries he could see, the ones not beneath his clothes at least. He grabbed the first aid kit that Niki had supplied them after the war. He had insisted they wouldn’t need it in peacetime, but now he couldn’t be happier to have the kit. He gingerly cleaned Tommy’s wounds which consisted of mostly small scratches. There were a lot of little scars which Wilbur had never noticed before, so that worried him too, but he stayed silent as he took care of all Tommy’s wounds on his arms and legs. Tommy stayed silent throughout it all which was a little worrying.
“Tommy I need to lift up your shirt, I need to see all of the injuries you have” Wilbur stated before he started to pull Tommy’s shirt off of him. The peeled blood making it hard, as it stuck to the younger skin. When he finally did get the shirt, well that was being gernerous it was more like rags, off of Tommy he gasped. There were so many fucking scars. Obviously Wilbur had known about the small ones Tommy had gotten through the war. The familiar arrow scar on his shoulder and the sword through his chest. Now, Tommy’s skin was decorated in new fresh scars. The skin raised in a messy patterns that littered everywhere Wilbur could see.
Wilbur couldn’t help it when he felt bile rise in the back of his throat at the sight. He promptly turned away and threw up in the toilet until only stomach acid was coming out. All of the food he had eaten that day was quickly discarded of. He couldn’t help it. He was horrified by Tommy’s skin, of the evidence that something had happened. Someone had hurt his baby brother.
He took a deep breath before flushing the toilet and turning back to Tommy. Tommy who wasn’t even looking in his direction. He quickly got back to work cleaning any wounds in silence. There was too much blood, so he started to run a bath. Feeling for the water to be lukewarm before he gently peeled away the rest of Tommy’s clothes and put him in. He held the younger up and gently scrubbed at his body with a wet cloth. The water quickly being dyed to a reddish-brown. He had to change the water two more times before the bath ran clear. Tommy’s skin clear of any blood and grime.
Wilbur tried not to stare too long at his brother's skin. The scars were all the more prominent now that they weren't being covered with dirt and blood. He lifted Tommy’s body out and gently dried him off. He patched up any smaller wounds once again now that he was clean. He took a second to look at Tommy and the younger just stared back silently. There were so many things he wanted to say, wanted to ask. He felt his throat tighten at anything he was going to say. He couldn’t physically talk when Tommy stared at him like that, like he was numb, a puppet.
“Let’s get you to bed, sunshine.” Wilbur said in a voice he had long since forgotten he had. It was so sweet and quiet, yet caring all in one. He lifted Tommy into his arms and cradled his head close. Tommy felt so light. He was sure the boy had weighed a little more before this. Just enough that Wilbur had struggled to carry him as Tommy usually kicked and struggled, usually with a grin on his face. He really wished that was the case now, yet Tommy stayed silent against his chest.
He walked to his own bedroom before laying Tommy down on the bed. He crawled in bed next to him and cuddled around his smaller body. Had he always been this small? Wilbur felt like he had never truly noticed Tommy before. It was as if this was his first time seeing him. The two of them had been through a war, had seen death before. A part of that made Wilbur forget that Tommy, despite everything, was just a kid. Tommy was only a kid and Wilbur had dragged him into a war. He felt sick. Tommy had never reacted like this before.
He held the younger tightly against him. Whispering soft reassurances into the younger's white hair. He still needed to figure out why it was white. For now he just held Tommy and continued to whisper sweet words to him. He told Tommy how much he searched for him, how much he had missed him, and most importantly, how much he loved him. He felt the younger relax slightly against him as he continued. Eventually, he felt Tommy’s breathing even out as he fell asleep.
Now Wilbur was alone with his thoughts. That was a dangerous thing for the president. Thinking about the whole situation made him feel an indescribably pain. He had no idea how Tommy was still alive if he was being honest. No one had that many scars without going through something horrific. It didn’t even seem feasible that that many scars could be acquired in only a single month. Not unless someone had health potions, used them on Tommy, and Tommy got hurt again continuously. His brain short-circuited on that idea. That was the only logical explanation wasn’t it? Someone had fucking tortured his baby brother. He felt an indescribable emotion fill him at the revelation. Part pain, part rage, and another quiet emotion that bubbled at the surface. He wanted to get up and break something. He had to fight with himself just to stay still. Tommy still needed him.
Wilbur knew one thing though, he was going to fucking kill the bastard that did this. He was going to do so much worse than what Tommy had been though. He wouldn’t stop until they felt pain worse than death. Tommy was his baby brother. His. Whoever had dared to even touch a single hair on his head was going to go through him. They would face his wrath. There was no longer any time for feeling sorry for himself or Tommy. There was only a burning fire in his chest for revenge. Biting down a growl he pulled Tommy closer to him. Someone was going to die.