Chapter Text
It was starting to get cold out, with autumn hitting the town hard. Tommy looked at the fallen leaves from his window.
“I wonder how Wilbur is holding up in the weather.” Tommy said, leaning away from the window and turning to his parents on the fireplace. “I’m not worried or anything.” He shook his head. “He’s just got no home.”
There was no response, but Tommy kept talking. “It’s been a couple days since I last saw him. I don’t know where he’s been going but it’s weird. To have a man follow you around for three months, to the point where I was starting to consider him a friend- and then he just dips.”
Tommy shut the window. “Don’t comment on the fact that I consider a homeless man my friend.”
Not that his parents typically made comments.
“I just hope he’s okay. Maybe I should invite him to dinner.” Tommy sat down. “Niki paid me a bit extra this week. I can afford a meal for two.” He looked around the apartment. “I know he wont judge me for my living conditions. I mean, he’s not faring better.” He frowned, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Besides, the silence around here starts to get to you.”
He turned to face the piano by the wall. Tommy had taken up to working on his song once more. It was horrible, and anyone with ears could tell, but it was something to fill the apartment. “Mom, you would know how to fix the music.” He sighed, pushing away from the table. “I have to go to work now. Bye guys. Love you.”
Nobody said I love you back.
Wilbur was at the bakery when Tommy’s shift ended. He had entered the building to order food when Tommy still had five minutes on the clock, and the blond was anxiously watching the time to catch the older before he left.
“Wilbur!” he called out, racing out of the bakery.
The homeless man turned around at the sound of his name, eyebrows raised. “Tommy?”
“Where the fuck have you been!?”
“What do you mean? It’s only been a couple days.”
“Yeah well after seeing you everyday for months it’s felt a lot longer!”
“Awww, Tommy,” Wilbur teased. “Were you worried?”
The blond took a step back. “ No. Why would I be worried about a homeless prick like you?”
“Relax,” Wilbur laughed. “I was visiting some friends. I’m glad my presence was missed.”
“Nobody missed you, bitch.” Tommy crossed his arms.
“ Right .” Wilbur said, raising an eyebrow as the blond huffed at him.
Tommy paused as the natural flow of conversation stopped. It was now or never.
“You got something you want to say, gremlin?” Wilbur asked, noticing the way Tommy made vague hand motions, but no word came out.
“Okay, first. You’re not allowed to make fun of me.” The blond huffed.
“Why would I make fun of you?”
“Because, you’re a prick that laughs at everything. This is serious.”
Wilbur tilted his head. He was getting a bit worried, he had never seen Tommy so stiff. No jokes or laughing. “Okay, serious.”
“Yes.” Tommy nodded. “Well, this thing is- okay, so-”
“Spit it out, child.”
“ I’m trying .” Tommy rolled his eyes. “There’s supposed to be a storm passing over later today, round six. If you need somewhere to wait it out I was wondering , if you wanted to have dinner at my apartment? So like- you’re not in the storm or whatever.” He trailed off at the end, eyes dropping to the ground.
Wilbur couldn't stop himself from grinning. “Aww, I would love to come over for dinner Tommy. Did you ask your parents?”
“Well,” Tommy chuckled humorlessly. “I talked to them about it, yeah.”
“Then yeah, I’ll come over.”
Wilbur wasn’t sure what to expect of the dinner. He knew so much about Tommy, but so little at the same time. He could pick up on the slightest shift of emotion in the kid, and read him like the back of his hand- but if you asked Wilbur anything about the boy's family or history he would turn up dry.
But he knew what he didn’t expect, and it was what he was seeing right now. He stood out in front of an old apartment building on the outskirts of town. One that had clearly seen better days.
For a second, Wilbur wasn’t sure he had the right place, before Tommy popped his head out of the front door. “Why are you just standing there? Never seen a home in your life? Makes sense for you. C’mon! I’m almost done cooking.”
“You’re cooking?” Wilbur asked, following Tommy through the building and up flights of stairs. “Now I’m scared.”
“Well, yeah-” Tommy said, stopping in front of a doorway. “Who else would?”
Before Wilbur could question what the boy meant, Tommy opened the door, showing the view of the apartment. Wilbur stepped in, taking the place in.
“Welcome.” Tommy said, throwing up dry jazz hands.
Wilbur was quiet as he shut the door behind himself, looking around at the small place. It needed a good cleaning, and was drastically overdue for a new coat of paint. His eyes landed on the fireplace, and his stomach sunk.
“Tommy, when you said you talked to you parents about it -”
“I didn’t lie!” Tommy cut him off. “I’m not a liar.”
“Are those-”
Tommy walked closer to the fireplace. “Wilbur, meet Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad, this is the homeless prick you’ve heard about.”
Wilbur knew he should make some remark about Tommy calling him homeless, like always, but he was too focused on taking in the fourteen year olds living situation. “How long…?”
He had trailed off, but Tommy knew the question. “Four years.” He whispered. “Lost them to Death's Breath.”
Wilbur frowned. Death’s Breath was a fatal illness, not contagious, but harbord from birth. There was no cure, and doctors in the town had no way of knowing who was affected or why it was them, until it was too late. The fatal illness got its name after the goddess of Death, but Wilbur knew it actually had nothing to do with Kirstian. It was just an illness the town had suffered with since its creation. A sickness with a cure out there, just undiscovered.
“They didn’t suffer long,” Tommy continued when Wilbur had nothing to say. “Y’know Death’s Breath. Quick.”
For a sickness that somebody holds since birth, a person’s final hours are brutal. It starts with a bad cough, could be passed on as a cold, but then the fever starts. And it never breaks. Within twenty-four hours of the first symptom, the victim is dead.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Wilbur said softly.
Tommy shrugged. “Lost them both within the same month. “Least I didn’t have to grieve twice.”
Wilbur knew the comment was to make him feel better, but it didn’t work.
“Tommy” he said gently as he looked at the kid, Tommy’s shoulders starting to slump over as he focused on cooking dinner.
“It’s fine, it's in the past now, the gods didn’t even listen to my prayers to save them,y’know. Typical god shit.” He said gently stirring something. Wilbur frowned at his watery eyes but didn't comment on them.
“It’s not fine and it’s absolute bullshit, absolute malarkey, just…” Wilbur threw his hands up as he went to sit at the table, ignoring the way one corner seemed more used than the other sides, all covered in dust. It just rubbed in the fact that this kid- this child , his mind supplied- had been living by himself with barely any help for four years. It hurt Wilbur deep in his core that specifically Tommy was wronged like this, wronged by his family and to some extent, himself. Tommy was a good kid underneath the snark sass and genreal bullshitery, but he was a child, a 14 year old who lost his parents too soon, and that broke Wilbur’s heart dearly. Right now he didn’t care if Tommy was trying to lighten the mood, trying to cook dinner and trying to put on a smile just for him.
“I didn’t have you over to pity my life, Wilbur.” Tommy said, turning around. He still had a ladle in hand, which he used to motion to a window. Outside was dark and cloudy, and Wilbur couldn't deny Tommy saved him from sitting out in the rain.
“Yeah, thanks for that by the way.” He said, looking at the floor. The mood seemed to dim like outside as Tommy started to serve up food, pouring a bowl for himself and then for Wilbur. He walked over and handed Wilbur his bowl and then sat at his corner of the tabel.
“So yeah,” He laughed humorlessly. ”That’s Mom and Dad. Now you know my tragic backstory. If you want you can fucking laugh at me or something, I wont be offended. It’s better than pity and the gods do it anyway.” He said, semi sarcastically as he waved the spoon in his hand. Tommy chucked to himself a bit before slouching back over the table.
“Why would I laugh at you Tommy? You're what, fourteen ? I thought you were bloody eleven the first time I ran into you. You barely have any food here and I know for a fact that Niki is only giving you the amount she thinks that you need, as a kid who has a family, and not the amount you actually need, as a kid who lives alone . And you fucking-” Wilbur’s eyes windened. “How many fucking apples did you have for a meal this week Tommy!? How many!? ”
At first, Tommy was scared to look up. Wilbur sounded full of anger and rage- all directed to the boy. He invited Wilbur over out of kindness for somebody he had gotten close to. He didn’t expect to be told off about his living habits by a homeless man. But- as Tommy looked at Wilbur’s face all he saw was a distressed man, starting to pick up a sweat from how worried he was.
“Tommy you’re a kid, you haven’t done anything to deserve this, and the gods treating you with malice, while I can’t promise for certain- I’m 90% sure it wasn’t malicious intent,” He ignored Tommy’s scoff, instead opting to continue. “Tommy you are such a nice fucking kid for a fucking orphan , but I just,” he huffed angryily looking for his words, moving his hands in the air. “You never deserved this is what I’m trying to say, you never deserved to feel like being on your own is ok and you never deserved to feel like you had to be an adult at 14 becuase of stupid death curse that can’t be cured”
He frowned at the way Tommy just crossed his arms.
The boy clearly wasn’t paying attention- or at least trying to make it seem that way.
“ Toms ” Wilbur sighed “Tommy you’re fourteen. I don’t want you to be alone and I’m not going to let you be alone anymore.”
Tommy looked up at this. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“Why do you care?” The blond didn’t get it. He spent so many years alone. So many years alone and fine . He learned the art of taking care of himself at ten. It was a harsh change. Going from his parents coddled only son to a small boy alone in the world. But he made it. He was strong. He didn’t need some prick acting like he couldn't do it. “I’m fine, Wilbur.” He said, brushing off the way the older seemed taken aback.
“I’ve been doing this for four years. I know how to fucking manage myself.”
“I’m not trying to say you don’t, Toms. I’m saying you shouldn’t have to manage yourself by yourself .”
“But nobody cares about what I shouldn't have to do. At the end of the day I do it anyway. And I’m fine living like this.”
“No, you’re not.” Wilbur started. “Look around at this apartment. It’s dusty and dirty. You already spend all your time working just to pay for this place. Of course you don’t have time to clean it. But you’re not fine living like this. Living off apples and small paychecks. A fourteen year old shouldn't even be working!”
“Okay, and ?” Tommy couldn't believe this. Sure, having dead parents fucking sucked but there were upsides. Like not having an adult in your business all the time. He wasn’t about to let some homeless prick fill that spot because the bitch had a god complex. “It’s not like you’re living any better!” He bit, ignoring the way Wilbur frowned. “Why do you even care so much about some fourteen year old kid?” His voice cracked a bit at the anger, but Wilbur didn’t seem phased.
“You’re not some fourteen year old kid.” The older man said softly. “You’re Tommy.”
The blond didn’t need to know how he was so much more than just Tommy. Over the time Wilbur had met him- getting closer to the child became less of a mission and more of something he did eagerly. It had become less of a chore and more of him actually wanting to talk to the mortal child he’d grown fond of .
“C’mere.” He said, opening his arms for the teen.
Tommy was still standing with his arms crossed, but when he saw Wilbur offer a hug, his defensive nature slipped slightly. He released his shoulders and slumped forward, silent tears starting to fall as Wilbur rubbed his back. It soon turned into sad hiccups as it continued, Wilbur helping him sit down. Despite his efforts to get the teen sitting next to him, they just ended up with Tommy in his lap and Wilbur gently comforting the boy as he cried and whined softly, whispering soft praises like a parent towards a toddler, but it wasn’t for a toddler it was for Tommy, all for the boy, and nothing made Wilbur happier.
Tommy couldn't remember the last time he allowed himself to let go and cry and at this point he couldn't remember exactly why he was crying.
The blond wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but Wilbur remained patiently by his side, not one pausing his whispers.
“Sorry.” Tommy mumbled after a while. “I think dinners cold by now.”
Wilbur just smiled. “We’ll reheat it, Toms.”
“Tell me more about you.”
Wilbur looked at the boy on the sofa next to him. They had finished eating and fallen into a comfortable silence, although Tommy just broke it. “Hm?”
“You have learned my life trauma, yet all I know about you is you’re homeless and sometimes disappear to visit ‘friends’.” Tommy paused. “Like, tell me more about yourself. Something simple, it doesn't have to be traumatic like me. You got a last name?”
Wilbur did not, in fact, have a last name. It was because he was a god, and typically they don't get middle and last names. But Tommy couldn't know that. “Yeah, I do. It’s uh-” He glazed around the apartment quickly, trying to come up with a realistic name. His eyes landed on the dirty fireplace, and before he could think about what he was saying, his mouth was moving. “It’s Soot.”
“Wilbur Soot ?”
“Are you judging my last name, Tommy Innit ?”
Tommy grinned. “I would never.”
Wilbur just shook his head. “I can’t believe this.”
He found himself constantly looking around the apartment. Wilbur couldn’t believe a fourteen year old boy lived alone, and in these conditions. There were only two rooms. The main area with a corner kitchen, table, and living room ect section, and a small bathroom. The living room part held nothing but a sofa, a small closet that WIlbur noticed was closed, and a piano right under the windowsill.
“You play?” He asked.
Tommy’s face fell a bit. “Nah, I try to but that’s my mom’s. She was the musical one.”
Wilbur nodded.
“My parents worshipped different gods.” Tommy explained, gaze drifting to the urns. “My dad worshipped the god of survival, as most do, but my mom worshipped the god of music and fate.”
Wilbur tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted a bit.
“Everyone ridiculed her for it. He never responds y’know? But she insisted he did once. That it must have made her special. And she was good at music too. It was more than a blessing from the god, she naturally was skilled. I didn’t uh- receive the same talents.”
Wilbur nodded. He never responded to many mortals, but when he did he took it seriously. He did remember a woman, one who looked similar to Tommy as he thought about it. The blond was right, the woman was talented. The brunette never truly realized how connected Tommy’s fate was to him.
“I messaged the god a bit after they died. Never got a response. At first I was sad, like, I guess I don’t have the skills my mom had, but then none of the gods responded. Even the ones that normally do.”
Wilbur felt his stomach sink. Tommy had prayed to him.
And he ignored it.
“There’s a written composition on the piano.” He said, trying to distract his inner turmoil.
Tommy laughed. “Yeah, I tried to be like my mom. When I say I didn’t get her talent I mean I literally tried.” They both got up to sit at the piano’s stool. “Writing music is not my thing.”
Wilbur’s eyes glanced over the notes as Tommy played out the piece. In all honesty, it wasn’t horrible. It was not blessed by the music god's work, but it could have been worse. Wilbur has heard a lot of compositions in his lifetime. There were a couple naturals where sharps or flats could be, and the rhythm was plain, but for a fourteen year old?
“You’re not bad.”
“Yeah right.” Tommy shook his head. “You’re just saying that.”
Wilbur shook his head. “It needs tons of work, but it’s genuinely a good base.”
“Do you-” Tommy looked at him. “Do you know how to play the piano?”
Wilbur couldn't help but smile a bit at the hidden irony. “You could say that.”
“Can you help me make the piece better, then?”
“Yeah Toms. I’ll help you.”
“I’m so horrible.”
Techno sighed at his brother. “Do you want me to disagree?”
“Shut up and let me throw a pity party.”
“Wilbur, you’re in my room.”
The god ignored him. “Techno, all the pieces clicked so fucking fast- I don’t even know.”
“Well, what happened?”
“I went to eat dinner at Tommy’s house right? To avoid the storm and maybe meet his parents? Well yeah , his parents are dead .”
Techno bit back a grin. “You didn’t know?”
“Wait, did you?!”
“No, but that look on your face was funny.”
“Techno I’m being serious! This fourteen year old kid is just living alone! His parents have been dead for four years! And it gets worse .”
“How?”
“His mother worshipped me. And when she died, Tommy
prayed to me
. And I ignored him! He’s grieving over the loss of a parent and all he wants is just a small piece of her, but I’ve fucked off to do my own shit!”
“Are you telling me,” Tehcno leaned forward. “You’ve learned your lesson?”
“Yes!” Wilbur said. “And it fucking hurts! I feel like Phil could have done something different than have me get emotionally attached to a kid!”
“Thank god it’s over.” Techno grinned. “It’s been so boring without you here. Welcome home, my friend.”
Wilbur froze. “Wait, no-”
“What?”
“I can’t come back.”
Techno tilted his head. “And why not?”
“Because there’s a fourteen year old boy in that town that needs me. I can multitask. I can be a god and look after a child.”
“Yeah, because that worked out great for Rimbuad too.” Techno shook his head. “Wilbur, you can’t focus on one mortal. There are thousands that need you.”
“Then what if,” Wilbur paused. “Tommy didn’t stay mortal?”
“This feels like the beginning of a bad idea.”