Chapter Text
“I'm here, I'm here - where's Tommy!?”
The hospital waiting room was nearly empty today, with no-one there but three teenage boys, one eerily calm yet covered in blood and two looking shaken. But they weren't who Wilbur was here for, so he focused his attention on the receptionist.
“My name is Will - Wilbur! Wilbur Soot! I'm here for my little brother - his name is Tommy - shit, no, it's Theseus! Theseus Innit, where is he - is he okay!?”
“Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down-”
“-CALM DOWN!? I just got a phone call saying that my baby brother is in the fucking emergency room, and you're asking me to calm down!?”
The receptionist seemed taken aback by his outburst, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to care. Tommy could be hurt, or dead, or-
“Wilbur, screaming isn't going to make the lady suddenly have answers. Ranboo already tried that.”
…That was Tubbo's voice, and suddenly Wilbur was hyper aware of the ten eyes on his back - spinning around to face his little brother's three closest friends for the first time since he'd entered the building.
…Tubbo was covered in blood. He didn't seem distressed by that fact, though. Wilbur let down his walls to tap in to his emotions…
Tubbo wasn't in pain.
That wasn't his blood.
“…Whose blood is that?”
None of the trio spoke, but Wilbur had a horrid, sinking feeling in his gut that told him he already knew the answer.
“Tubbo, who - whose blood is that!?”
“Which one of us was hospitalized, Will?”
He was so calm, as if his shirt wasn't drenched in his best friend's blood - with a hint of concern and sympathy in his voice, but only in his voice. It went no deeper, and that…
That was horrifying.
Ranboo shot Tubbo a look at that, the tall boy's own mind a cacophony that was almost deafening - fear fear fear remorse fear anger pain anger sorrow fear remorse feAR FEAR FEAR-
“What. The fuck. Happened. To my brother?”
He wouldn't normally employ the tone he used as The Poet in conversation with Tommy's friends, but if somebody didn't tell him why the fuck his Sunrise was in the hospital while his best friend sat in the waiting room, an icy storm of endless nothingness in his mind despite being soaked in blood that should never have been spilt, he was going to lose his fucking shit.
Not that he wasn't already losing his shit, mind you. He was just going to lose it even fucking more.
Surprisingly, Purpled was the one who spoke up.
“We're not sure what happened. We were hanging out at my place, then his nose just… Started bleeding.”
He sighed quietly, and Wilbur abruptly realized that, despite how stoic and - honestly - slightly terrifying Purpled could be at times… He was still just a kid. He wasn't somehow magically immune to worrying about people.
“It was so sudden… One second Tommy's joking about my kitchen appliances being weird, and the next, Tubbo had to leap forward so he didn't hit the ground.”
Ranboo didn't speak - something which Wilbur had grown used to - but he nodded, a silent confirmation of Purpled's story being accurate.
Damn… Wilbur had to calm down a bit, or he was just gonna freak them out more - and if he scared the people who had actually been there, he wouldn't know what had happened until Tommy told his side.
…If Tommy told his side.
“Did anything happen before that? Had he been acting off at all?”
“Purpled threw him, but that had been hours before, and he hadn't complained about any pain. And he was acting pretty much just like normal…”
Purpled immediately shot Ranboo a look, and it didn't take an empath to read the “oh, you traitorous prick” that his eyes were burning into those of the telepath.
“He asked to be thrown. Literally.”
Seemingly seeing Wilbur's disbelief, Purpled continued.
“His exact words were “Ranboo if you agree to throw me I’ll give you eighty bucks” - I was just doing what Tubbo wouldn't let Ranboo do! Also, I didn't even throw him that hard! The real victim there was my porch table…”
Wh…
“Hold on. Rewind. Why, exactly, did my brother want Ranboo to throw him?”
Tubbo was the one who spoke this time.
“It was that or the elevator, and you know Tommy. I tried to stop him, but, well... Idiots will be idiots.”
While he wasn't a fan of his currently hospitalized little brother being called an idiot, Tubbo wasn't exactly wrong.
“Also, he has been acting off. He's been getting progressively more lethargic for weeks now.”
This was news to Wilbur, and it seemed to be news to Ranboo and Purpled as well.
“Why didn't you say anything???”
Ranboo seemed pretty shocked - and honestly, so was Wilbur. That seemed like the kind of thing that you should warn someone about.
“I kinda figured you'd all noticed? I mean, he's not exactly hiding it very well.”
“Tubbo, nobody noticed. You are literally the only person who noticed. His behavior literally did not change even slightly. You just have some weird sixth sense for when Tommy's hurt.”
Wilbur sighed quietly. Purpled's words may not be productive, but he had a point.
Which meant that it was up to Wilbur to translate that point.
“Tubbo, you know Tommy better than literally anybody else. Even me! And I know you care about him, and that talking about people behind their backs is a dick move - but if you know that somebody is struggling, you need to tell an adult, okay?”
Tubbo only nodded, but that was enough. He was a smart kid, after all - he wouldn’t let something like this happen again now that it had happened once.
“Is the family of Theseus Innit here?”
“-my? Hey, To-”
“Your- eding-”
“Wake-”
Everything was fuzzy, and the voices around him sounded like they were under water, and fuck, his head was pounding.
His eyelids felt like they had been crazy glued shut. They weren't heavy like when you're tired, he just… Couldn’t move them, was all.
He couldn't really move anything, actually… Was there anything to move? All he felt was… Fuzz. Like when he and Tubbo used to sit way too close to the TV screen as kids and the static would make their hair stand upright and their skin feel like bees.
“Hey, can-”
“-ou there?”
“Toms, ca-”
Now, Theseus prided himself on being an optimist, but this was… Probably not good. He wasn’t really sure what was going on other than that. Everything felt like TV static, and he couldn't move, and those were probably both very bad signs.
His eyes were closed - he knew that they were, because he literally couldn't open them - but somehow, he was seeing anyway. And despite it being impossible, he saw a man he almost recognized with a face that seemed to distort when he focused on it.
A face that made him think of a nightmare.
He tried to greet the not-quite stranger, but he couldn't speak.
“Hello, Theseus. I'm sure you have a lot of questions… But those are best saved for a later date. I promise, I'll explain everything in time. But for now, I have a very important job for you...”
Tommy had been out cold for… Uncomfortably long. He was pretty much unkillable, and this was weird. Really, really fucking weird.
…Tubbo wasn't sure if he wanted Tommy to wake up so he knew that the blonde was alive, so everyone else would calm down, or so he could go home and burn this fucking shirt. He assumed it was probably some combination of the three.
Tommy had stopped bleeding, thankfully, and the doctors had said that it wasn't an aneurysm - which nobody except Wilbur had even considered as a possibility until they had mentioned it. They had also ruled out hypertension, which Tubbo actually had considered before it was mentioned. Despite this, they still had no clue what had happened - which was… Problematic.
This entire day had sucked. Tubbo really just wanted it to be over.
But that wasn't happening until Tommy woke up.
As if Prime herself had somehow heard his thoughts, Tommy suddenly sat bolt upright. Whether this was a good or bad thing was up for debate.
He didn’t seem upset, nor did he seem to be in pain. He just looked… Very confused.
“Why's Tubbo look like a slasher movie, and why am I in the hospital?”
“You bled on me, bossman. Kind of a lot. Ranboo thought you died.”
“Huh… That sucks. Sorry about your shirt.”
Now, as far as people who had suffered severe - thus-far unexplained - nosebleeds that had lead to sudden unconsciousness went, Tommy seemed… Weirdly okay with this. Then again, Tubbo was hardly in a position to judge him.
Still, this was a bit too casual, even for him. Tommy seemed to give even less fucks about this situation than Tubbo did.
“…Seriously? Tubbo is drenched in your blood, and all you care about is that it messed up his shirt?”
Wilbur had a valid point, though Tubbo doubted he fully understood why his point was valid.
Tommy was selfish by nature. He always had been. The fact that he only cared about someone else in this situation - especially when that someone else was Tubbo - was incredibly out of character for him.
“I feel fine though.”
Based on his expression, Tommy was telling the truth. Which was comforting, since it meant that he would be okay - something Tubbo had already been certain of - meaning they could finally fucking leave.
“…Hey, Boob boy?”
Ranboo looked up from the journal he had been scribbling in - one of his various memory books, no doubt - but his gaze didn't quite meet Tommy's eyes. They had all had the privacy talk, of course - no-one looked Ranboo in the eyes unless they had something very secretive to share. Or a meme they'd lost on their timeline.
“Yeah?”
Ranboo seemed calm, given the situation - something that was utterly shattered by a simple two-word question from Tommy. A question that Tubbo didn't quite understand, but was also kind of curious about now.
A question that went as follows:
“Who's Dream?”