Chapter Text
Tommy is laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wings splayed out behind him.
Tubbo is laying similarly on Tommy’s bedroom floor, scrolling idly through Twitter.
They’d met up for the first time a few months ago, and with it had come wings and small marks on their ankles - for Tommy, a bee, and for Tubbo, a music disc.
It had taken a few days, but they’d learned how to hide their wings via some sort of magic (they aren’t completely sure how it works).
It had been quite a relief, because it meant that they could continue to stream with facecams on; no doubt hybrids, or whatever they are, would be targeted by some... bad people.
Tommy is brought out of his thoughts as a searing pain shoots through his head. Faintly, he is aware of himself doubling over and grasping at his head, but all he can focus on is the image forming in his mind.
People.
People with guns, loading up into vans that read INTERNATIONAL HYBRID CONTAINMENT in bold words on the sides.
Somehow, he knows they are coming for him and Tubbo.
He cannot stop it.
Tommy gasps in surprise as he feels hands on his shoulders, and the vision dissipates.
Tubbo is standing in front of him, worry etched into his face, his wings spread wide behind him.
There is an odd keening noise piercing the air, and Tommy realizes that it’s coming from him.
Abruptly, the sound stops, and Tommy slowly relaxes, letting the tension bleed out of his body as his head throbs dully.
“Are you okay?” Tubbo whispers, eyes searching his.
No.
“I- I saw something.” Tommy admits. “A bunch of- of people with guns, getting into cars and coming for us.”
Out loud, he supposes, it sounds a lot dumber than he expected it to.
“Y- What?” Tubbo asks with a frown, brow creasing in confusion.
There is a tug in his gut and a small voice in his head. Leave. Run.
“I don’t know, but.. we have to leave.” Tommy says, deciding to blindly trust his gut instinct.
“But where?! Where do we go?” Tubbo cries, sensing Tommy’s growing panic.
Wilbur.
“Uh.. Wilbur’s?”
“Why Wilbur?”
Tommy puts his head in his hands, grasping his hair in frustration. “I don’t know. All I know is what my gut is telling me, and I feel like my gut is to be trusted.”
His headache is growing worse, and he reaches for the Tylenol that sits on his nightstand.
Tommy pops two of the pills into his mouth with a grimace, and Tubbo makes a proposition -
“How about we pack bags and put them on the roof of the house, and then if the people you saw do come here, we can fly to Wilbur’s house, ok?”
Tubbo doesn’t believe him.
Tommy’s heart sinks and urgency flows through his veins.
“No, no, no, we have to go now, Tubbo!” He babbles hurriedly, his wings flaring open and closed and causing papers to fly off his desk.
“Why? How do you know that?”
Tommy’s mouth opens and closes a couple times. How does he know that?
“I don’t know. I.. My gut feeling is telling me that we have to go, now, or else they’ll catch us.”
Tubbo still looks skeptical, but then, with almost movie-like timing, Tommy’s father opens the door.
“I called some people, and they’re going to get rid of your wings, ok? They- They’re going to make you normal again.”
Before either of them can say anything, his father is gone again.
Tubbo turns to Tommy with wide eyes and a pale face.
“What do we need?”
-
Thirty minutes later, and they are packed. Tommy knows exactly what they each need and exactly how everything has to be packed for it all to fit.
He doesn’t know how he knows.
All of his alarm bells are ringing, and there are rocks in his gut as his mind yells at him to go, go, go, but he forces himself to not start sprinting around his room, and instead makes sure he has everything they need in his bag.
Food, check.
Water bottles, check.
Money, check.
Toothbrushes and toothpaste, check.
Phones and phone chargers, check.
Four pairs of clothes, two for cold weather and two for hot weather, check.
Blankets, check.
Tylenol, check.
Tommy lets out a breath, his wings shivering together nervously. “Alright. We’re ready to go.”
Tubbo nods, full of fear and pent-up nerves, and together they leap out of Tommy’s window and into the sky.
-
The low light of the early evening helps to hide their escape; to any onlookers, they look like large birds flying high in the sky.
Tommy grins as the wind runs through his feathers, his large wings propelling him forwards easily.
Behind him, Tubbo huffs in frustration. “Slow down, would you? Not all of us have massive wings like yours.”
Tommy grins and glances over his shoulder at his friend. “Not my fault you have tiny little pigeon wings!”
“Hey, pigeons are cool!” Tubbo protests, flapping his wings harder in order to catch up to Tommy.
“Whatever you say, pigeon boy.”
They banter for a while longer as the city below them turns into countryside, and early evening turns into nighttime.
It doesn’t feel dark, in the sky, and Tommy can see the far-off lights of buildings ahead of them.
When he mentions this to Tubbo, the other boy frowns. “I don’t see any lights.”
“Well, I guess your eyes are all messed up and shit.” Tommy fires back easily, and they fall into a comfortable silence as it truly registers what they’ve done.
“I can’t believe we ran away.” Tubbo mutters, watching a bird fly past them. “Do you think they would really get rid of our wings?”
Tommy shrugs, or at least attempts to. “I don’t doubt it. They looked pretty sinister in my vision.”
“How would they do it? Would they just.. chop them off, or would they have some sort of thingy that would just make our wings go away?”
“How should I know?” Tommy asks, looking disgruntled. “They would probably chop them off so they could run experiments and shit.”
“I mean.. you’re the one who can see the future, apparently.” Tubbo points out, and Tommy frowns.
“Yeah, yeah, I guess so..”
-
When they reach Wilbur’s house, in the early morning, the first thing they do when they land on the roof to the left of the house is hide their wings.
Wilbur wouldn’t turn them in, but people who see them might, and they can’t risk being seen and putting Wilbur in danger.
They can’t knock on the front door, because once the missing persons alerts go out - and Tommy’s mind tells him that they will, if they aren’t already out - people might recall seeing them there.
No, the boys decide, their best course of action is to break into the guest room through the window, and deal with Wilbur later.
Tommy carefully opens the window and lets Tubbo climb through, following after him and closing the window behind them.
What he expects to see when he turns around is an empty guest room.
What he doesn’t expect to see, when he turns around, is the disheveled form of Technoblade, peering owlishly at them from where he sits in the guest bed.
WHY IS HE HERE
“Tommy? Tubbo?” The man utters in surprise, and Tommy opens his mouth to speak, but when he makes eye contact with Techno pain shoots through his skull.
No, not now, he thinks, but the vision hits him anyways.
Techno, bullet wounds in his chest, splayed out on a cold tile floor as he slowly bleeds to death, eyes wide and unseeing.
He distantly feels himself being shaken, hears Tubbo calling his name, sees Techno staring at him in alarm as the world comes back into focus.
“What did you see?” Tubbo whispers from where he is crouched on the floor beside him, and Tommy realizes that he’s curled in a ball on the floor.
“Techno..” Tommy says, in a scarcely-hearable voice. “Dying.”
With shaking hands, Tommy grabs the Tylenol from his backpack, swallowing two of the little pills.
When his arm brushes against Tubbo’s, he suddenly feels bone-tired, system flooded with weariness. He glances over at Tubbo in surprise, just now noticing how tired his friend looks.
Am I feeling Tubbo’s tiredness?
“Do you know what causes that future?” Tubbo asks him quietly, and Tommy shakes his head silently.
“Is.. is it a for sure future?” Tubbo asks, even quieter, and Tommy concentrates for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut.
It makes his headache worse, trying to track the futures, but he persists.
After a long moment, he opens his eyes.
“No, but it’s very likely.” Tommy declares, and Tubbo gives a small sigh of relief.
They both flinch in surprise as the door flies open, emitting Wilbur with - Phil? close behind him, drawn by Tommy’s cries of pain from when he had the vision.
The boy tenses when he makes eye contact with Wilbur, but no vision hits him this time, and he relaxes.
“Tommy?” Wilbur says in surprise, and his gaze shifts to Tubbo. ”Tubbo?”
“Hi, Wilbur..” Tommy begins uncomfortably, feeling his wings push against the edges of his mind, wanting so badly to spread his wings and hide Tubbo from Wilbur’s glare.
“Why are you here?” The man demands, and Tommy winces.
“We, uh..” He turns to his mind for guidance, but the little voice is silent. “We just need a place to stay for a few nights..?” His gaze flicks to Phil and Techno. “Or, uh, we could leave now..”
Tubbo gives him a withering glance that says, why did you have us come here if you didn’t have a plan of what to say to Wilbur?
Tommy glares back at Tubbo, trying to convey well, I didn’t think that far ahead!
Phil’s voice draws them from their silent argument. “Tommy, was that scream you?”
Tommy’s brows raise in surprise as he glances at Tubbo questioningly. Did I scream?
Tubbo nods, and Tommy frowns, unsure of how to reply.
Thankfully, he is saved from having to reply by another vision.
He feels a scream ripped from his throat and is vaguely aware of the others crying out in surprise and panic.
This time, the vision is of Phil and Wilbur, throats slit in their sleep, bleeding out on the same cold tile.
He chokes on his sobs as he tries to reach out to them, but he is frozen, frozen in place as he watches two fourths of his pseudo-family die, and there is nothing he can do.
“Tommy, hey, can you focus on my voice?”
Tubbo’s voice echoes in his mind.
“It’s just a vision, ok? Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. It’s not happening.”
It’s not real. Phil and Wilbur are ok, and alive, and safe.
“We’re going to make sure that it doesn’t come true, ok? We’ll keep everyone safe.”
Slowly, the vision dissipates, and in its place he sees Tubbo’s worried face, and Tommy vaguely realizes that he’s been sobbing, his fingers tangled in his hair.
“Okay, what the fuck was that?” Phil demands, and Tommy winces as the harsh voice cuts into his throbbing headache.
He blindly reaches for the Tylenol, and Tubbo smacks his hand. “No way, Tommy, you’ve just taken Tylenol.” His friend says scoldingly.
He scowls at Tubbo. “You’re not the one having visions and shit all the time.”
“That doesn’t mean you can take more pills than you’re supposed to!”
“Hang on, what’s all this about visions and futures?” Techno interrupts, and Tommy and Tubbo both freeze.
“Is it safe to tell them?” Tubbo asks quietly, and Tommy shrugs helplessly. “Headache’s too bad. I can’t look.”
“Uhh.. Tommy can see the future.” Tubbo blurts.
The confusion on the other’s faces turn into concern. Tommy snorts. “They think we’re crazy.”
“No, no, we just...” Phil trails off, because he kind of does think they’re crazy, so he instead changes the subject. “How did you two get here?”
Tommy and Tubbo share another glance, and come to a silent agreement.
“We’ll, uh.. tell you later.” Tommy says uncomfortably, and feels Tubbo exhaustedly lean on his shoulder. “Tubbo needs to sleep.” He adds.
Wilbur looks like he wants to say something else, then comes to a decision. “..Yeah, he can take a rest on my sofa?”
Tommy nods and gently shakes Tubbo, rousing the older boy and carefully pulling him up to a standing position.
He guides his friend into Wilbur’s living room, ignoring the feeling of his head practically being split in two, and the feeling of his friend’s gazes burning into his back.
Tubbo lays down on the sofa, and Tommy carefully throws the warm fleece blanket that he’d packed over his friend, who is practically already asleep.
Tubbo mutters a sleepy thanks, and then Tommy feels a hand on his shoulder, and Wilbur’s quiet voice. “We need to talk.”
-
Five minutes later, and Tommy is sitting at Wilbur’s kitchen table with a cup of warm tea.
Techno, Phil, and Wilbur sit across from him, and Tommy stirs nervously in the silence.
“So, first, what’s this about seeing the future?” Techno finally says.
“I mean.. there’s not much more to say about it.” Tommy mutters. “I have visions of possible futures that are likely to happen, but can be avoided. Each vision comes with a massive headache, though.”
The three exchange a glance. “Ookay. Uh, what kind of things do you see?” Phil prompts.
Tommy flinches. “..Bad futures.”
“Such as?” Wilbur asks softly.
Images of his friends’ dead bodies flash through his mind. “I don’t want to talk about them.”
Phil leans forwards, hands folded over his lap. “Tommy, we need to know what you see.”
“I-“ Tommy’s voice catches in his throat. “..All I know is that they’re after me and Tubbo, and- and there’s...”
Tommy can’t bring himself to continue, can’t bring himself to tell his friends that they could die in the near future.
Instead, he mumbles, “A lot of bad futures.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” Techno rumbles with an eyebrow raised.
Tommy waves his hands in the air vaguely. “Some government or military people or something who are after us for being..” The words die on his tongue again as he realizes that he’d almost revealed their secret.
“For being...?” Phil prompts.
“I can’t say.” Tommy mumbles, shifting in his seat so he can run his fingers over his soulmate mark (at least, that’s what he assumes it to be).
Phil frowns thoughtfully and leans back. “You know you can tell us anything, right?” Wilbur says quietly, comfortingly.
“I know. I don’t want to put you guys in danger.” Tommy replies quietly.
“Again, how did you get here?” Phil asks, deciding to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“M’ still can’t tell you.” Tommy mutters.
He flinches as panic shoots through him, but it’s not his, and immediately he stands up and darts out of the room, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends.
As he reaches Tubbo, he can see his friend is having a nightmare, and he scrunches himself down next to his friend and murmurs to him quietly, running his hands through the older’s hair.
Tubbo’s panic fades, and he relaxes. Tommy breathes a quiet sigh of relief and he looks up to see the others standing in the doorway of the room.
“How did you know he was having a nightmare?” Phil asks.
“We can feel each other’s emotions sometimes.” Tommy blurts, and then cringes. “Anyways, I, uh, I’m really tired, so I’m gonna go to sleep...”
Phil opens his mouth to say, no, you need to elaborate more, and then sighs. “Alright, Tommy. See you in the morning.”