Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was surprisingly warm, Tommy realized.

His skin bristled with goosebumps, but his body had seemed to forget he was cold, and on top of the tower, Tommy actually felt… warm?

It wasn’t a safe warm, like when his family or Tubbo hugged him.

It was a lonely, sad warm. Like when you sit in a cold pool so long your body goes numb to cope. The world was such a frozen, isolated place, but Tommy was used to it now. A sense of melancholy understanding prickled underneath his skin, and he gritted his teeth and looked down for the first time.

God, he was so high up.

His foot hung off the tower, kicking at the wall he’d created absent-mindedly. He was so fucking sick of being vulnerable. Why was it always him who had to go through this stuff alone? He was just a kid. Tommy wrapped his arms around his stomach and stared at the snow that dusted the arctic floor. He missed his family; He missed Tubbo; He missed Logstedshire.

Tommy closed his eyes and sucked in a silent breath, barely keeping himself from breaking down into choked sobs. Dream was going to catch him... He never should’ve left. He never should’ve kept secrets from Dream.

The young man had run the moment Dream left. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone now, but the anxiety was already beginning to creep alongside his arms. And he felt sick and numb.

Maybe Logstedshire had been blown up… but it had been safe for the time being.

Tears pool in the corners of Tommy’s eyes, and he wipes at them angrily with the back of his hand. His skin feels frozen against his face. He glances down at his hands. Maybe they are frozen. He couldn’t feel anything, not really. It was all… numb.

He forced his gaze from his hands to the ground below. Jump. Dream can’t kill you if you do it first. Wilbur did it. Just be like your brother. Tommy cringed at the thought of Wilbur. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss his brother. Yeah, Tommy had Ghostbur… but he didn’t want Ghostbur. He wanted his brother… Was that too much to ask?

For one person to care about him? To actually care about him?

Fuck, Dream. Dream wasn’t his friend. Dream didn’t care.

Tommy’s eye caught onto light in the distance. He froze, inhaling sharply and quickly pulling his legs onto the tower. Who was that? Dream. It’s Dream. He’s found you. Jump. End it. Hurry! But the teenager couldn’t move. Maybe the cold was finally getting to him.

He pulled his hands over his ears. Shit, his hands were cold. Hell, Tommy’s whole body was cold. He tried to close his eyes -to eliminate all possible senses- but they wouldn’t leave the light a torch was creating.

The source was coming from the distance, and it was coming towards him... Towards the tower. Tommy’s heart lurched in his chest, and he felt his lungs seize painfully in his chest. He felt dizzy suddenly, and his body wavered on the cobblestone. Maybe he should actually jump. He hadn’t planned on it.

Not really.

He had just wanted perspective. To see the world like it was insignificant. But now… Tommy didn’t want to get in trouble. He couldn’t.

Tommy tottered to his feet, the wind whistling and whipping his clothes around. He felt light as a feather and stuck his arms out to balance instinctively. The edge of the tower surrounded him, he’d only made it one block wide. All he had to do… was step once in any direction.

Just fall. Maybe you’ll see Wilbur again.

And, far more selfish, Maybe if you’re dead people will wish they’d loved you more.

Maybe Dream would regret manipulating him; maybe Technoblade would realize he actually gave a shit; maybe Phil would realize Tommy just needed love; maybe Tubbo would regret betraying him; maybe... maybe, they’d all realize how much they loved him. Tommy just wanted them to miss him, to care about him.

Anger surged through him, and he found himself shivering, finally. A child-like temper burned in his veins, and indignant tears streaked down his face. Fuck them.

He was going to jump.

He’d made up his mind.

Right?

Tommy narrowed his eyes against the wind to stare at the approaching light again. He was going to jump… but first, he wanted to find out who that was. Was it even someone? The teenager drew a tongue over his lips. They were torn and bleeding. And cold. Seriously, when had it gotten so cold?

Still standing, the exiled teenager felt his blood run icy. No. No, no, no, no, no. That horse… that long pink hair… that cape. Tommy felt like throwing up. It was Technoblade. Tommy felt like he was going to pass out.

He wasn't sure whether it was from the memories, fear, or cold.

Techno hated him. Techno tried to kill him. Techno summoned the withers… Techno wanted him dead.

Panic began eating away at Tommy’s mind, and any logical or spiteful thinking was chipped away, replaced by fear. He’d prefer Dream over Techno. At least… at least, he knew why Dream had lied and manipulated him. But Technoblade… Techno wanted him dead, but it was so much worse because Techno was his brother…

Tommy couldn’t stand facing him.

Seemingly agreeing, his legs buckled. And he stumbled backward.

His torn shirt billowing in the cold wind, Tommy let out a strangled scream without thinking. He was falling. He was falling. Fear pierced into his lungs, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. He’d gone silent.

I’m gonna die. Tommy would’ve wailed if he could make a sound. He clenched his eyes shut, trying his best to pretend nothing was happening. He was going to wake up from this nightmare now, right?

“Tommy!”

And then, the teenager was no longer flying.

Chapter Text

“...it’s not important…”

Tommy stirred when the sharp, intruding sound broke into his thoughts. It sounded vaguely familiar, he realized with a dull chime. The teenager’s eyes flickered slightly, but Tommy refused to open them yet. He didn’t want to wake up. His dreams were so peaceful.

“Heh? You can’t call coming back to…”

That was also familiar, slightly different from the first, but familiar. And it sparked concern into Tommy's lungs. Like butterflies with needles for wings, they cut up his lungs and stomach, eliminating his ability to breathe.

It’s Dream.

His heart dropped as all of his memories came flooding back to him. Air was struck from his body, and Tommy gasped. His eyelids snapped open, and he found himself staring directly at… Wilbur? Confusion overtook the fear for a second, and his eyes scanned over his brother.

It wasn’t Ghostbur.

Was he dead?

Wilbur’s expression softened just slightly, but it too was cursed with surprise. Dark brown eyes stared into Tommy’s, and the teenager could no longer breathe. He had to be dead. Tommy lurched, desperate to get out of the blankets that trapped him in the bed. He couldn’t breathe!

“Hey, hey! Chill out!” There was the other voice- Techno? A hand rested on Tommy’s shoulder, and the teenager let out a surprised yelp and ripped himself away from the hold. What the fuck was happening? “Tommy! You’re safe!”

But how could he be? Tommy scrambled out of the bed, ignoring how his body screamed at him with an inflammation of agony. “Stay the fuck away from me!” He hissed, trying his hardest to remain level-headed. Where was Dream? Dream would keep him safe. No, Dream was mad at him. He was on his own. Tommy was gasping for air now, oxygen having been stripped from his panic and pain burned body.

Wilbur still hadn’t moved from where he was, at first, and Tommy was beginning to doubt his brother was even real. Technoblade, on the other hand, swore under his breath and jumped over Tommy’s bed before grabbing Tommy’s shoulder tightly. Too tightly. “Tommy!”

Shit. Tommy swallowed hard and froze under the touch. His voice croaked slightly, “Look, ‘m sorry! I… I know ‘m not ‘posed to be here, and… and I’ll leave. Right now. Please… please don’t kill me!”

The teenager remembered, briefly, a time where he would’ve preferred death over begging, but now it was second-hand nature for Tommy. Because people didn’t love him, and his safety relied solely on his enemies' pity.

And on Dream’s pity.

Was Dream his enemy now? Tommy wasn’t sure.

His ears rang slightly, and when Wilbur inhaled sharply and took a half step back, Tommy felt like passing out. Was Wilbur really back? He fixed a gaze that warbled with tears to Technoblade. “...please… don’t kill me, Tech…” Tommy hesitated briefly at that, would his brother even allow a nickname? “...noblade.”

Technoblade didn’t move, and his eyes remained unreadable and cold. “I’m not going to kill you, Tommy,” he said carefully. If the teenager didn’t know his brother any better, he would’ve said Technoblade sounded guilty. “And you can stay here…”

It wasn’t exactly an offer, Tommy realized when he saw the hint of finality in Technoblade’s sharp eyes. Even if the teenager didn’t want to stay, he’d have to. Tommy swallowed hard, refusing to say anything that would rip apart Technoblade’s pitying words. His hands shook, and Tommy quickly tucked them behind to him so his brothers wouldn’t see. He didn’t want them to know how scared he was.

“Now, uh, sit down..." the pig hybrid began awkwardly. “You…” Technoblade let go of Tommy's shoulder, finally. The teenager relaxed minutely. “You’re hurt. And you won’t heal if you keep freaking out.” He gestured to the bed.

Tommy, without speaking, inched closer to the bed and sat down. It sank slightly under his weight, but even he knew it should’ve sunk more. He was malnourished.

But… he was fine. Dream gave him enough supplies to stay alive. He was fine. Dream wouldn't have given him anything with bad intentions.

Wilbur shifted in the background, bringing Tommy’s attention back to his other brother. The teenager’s expression darkened with a guarded confusion. He glanced to Technoblade and then back to Wilbur, tipping his head barely as if to ask what was happening. To ask if Technoblade saw Wilbur too.

Maybe Tommy was just crazy because Technoblade just glanced at Wilbur and didn’t seem shocked. “Phil revived Wilbur… I’m… uh, sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye to Ghostbur…?” Technoblade shrugged, turning his attention to the shelf, where food and potions were lined up.

“...what?” The teenager gasped, panic building up again. Wilbur was back?

Wilbur offered a shaky, wary smile. “Hey, Toms…”

The teenager wanted to run all over again. Tommy’s skin crawled with horror and questions, and he clutched his shirt. When his fingers brushed soft fur, he inhaled sharply in surprise and let go. He was wrapped in Technoblade’s cloak.

Tommy’s eyes widened. He hadn’t worn his brother’s clothes in… years. They used to be as close as threads of yarn, but that yarn had been torn apart years ago, and all of them were unsure how to go back. Unsure if they even could go back.

Tears pricking at the teenager’s eyes, Tommy wiped at his face aggressively. The water droplets soaked into the back of his hand. “Wil?”

What Wilbur stood in front of him? The question was haunting Tommy.

Was it the brother that raised him? The one who held him close when he was scared, the one who wrapped Tommy in his jacket on cold nights, the one who braided Techno’s hair? Or was it the Wilbur that wanted to blow up his own country? The Wilbur who screamed at him, who had gone mad with loss? Or was he something in the middle? A stranger?

“Hey, Tommy…” The young man replied softly. His voice was quiet in the hushed room, but goddamn was it comforting. He spoke softly, with gentle meaning.

It was something Ghostbur could never do. Be sympathetic enough to comfort. To actually comfort. Because Ghostbur didn’t… didn’t know what it was like to be in pain. He literally couldn’t.

Tommy’s heart yearned to hug Wilbur, but then Technoblade cleared his throat, and Tommy was spun back to reality.

They weren’t kids anymore.

Anger sieged itself around Tommy’s heart, and the walls he’d briefly let down surged upward, stronger than ever now that his initial fear had subsided. “What?” he murmured -growled- to Technoblade. His brother wasn’t phased and held up a bowl of mushroom soup. Tommy’s face twisted slightly in disgust. He wasn’t hungry.

“Drink some,” Technoblade murmured. “Just a sip and then some water.” The hybrid gestured at the water with his head gently. Now that he had a task, the majority of Technoblade’s awkwardness was put on pause.

If Tommy was any bit more foolish, he’d think things were like old times. But he was mature now, so he couldn’t… couldn’t hope for things that were never going to happen. They couldn’t go back. Nobody loved him.

Nobody but Dream. Right?

“‘M not hungry…” The teenager murmured but took the soup. It was warm against his hands. There was an empty pit in his stomach, but he didn’t want to make Technoblade upset. “Thanks.” He wasn’t grateful. They didn’t need to pretend to like him.

Technoblade said nothing but eyed him with a distant look. He looked… concerned? That was what the quirk of the eye meant. What the absent-minded picking at his nails meant.

Nobody moved for a moment before Tommy gently brought the soup to his lips. It burned the chapped skin, and he felt like crying all over again as he scalded his throat. Had Technoblade not realized how hot it was? His hands shook as he tried desperately to finish the bowl.

He couldn’t get on Techno’s bad side.

It burned.

Shit.

Tommy continued to down the bowl, and if Wilbur hadn’t quickly grabbed it from his hands, he wouldn’t have stopped until every drop was gone. The mushroom soup splashed out of the bowl at the quick swipe, and Tommy bit his tongue to keep himself from shouting in pain when the hot liquid scorched his leg.

Wilbur glanced down at the soup, his eyes pinned impossibly wide in surprise. “Fucking hell, Techno! Are you trying to boil him alive?” He sounded angry.

“Heh?” The brother replied, his breath growing a tad shaky. “It’s not that hot?” Technoblade defended, but he didn’t look sure. He hadn’t checked. When Wilbur shoved the bowl into his hands indignantly, the hybrid winced slightly. “Fuck…” Technoblade turned his attention to Tommy, the younger brother cowered under the look. “You drank it? Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” He sounded angry.

They were angry? Tommy didn’t know why. He’d done what Technoblade had asked. His eyes, fighting back fear, snapped between his two brothers. “I’m sorry!”

Apologize, quickly. They’re gonna hate you. They tried to help, and you fucked it up. They hate you now. You ruined it!

Technoblade recoiled slightly in surprise at Tommy's fear, setting the bowl on the table and gently tossing the water bottle to Tommy. He was out of the room in a flash, the door slamming shut behind him. His movements had been rigid with guilt, but Tommy could only see it as rage.

Rage at him.

Fear clutched his heart. “Wil…?”

Chapter Text

”Will…?”

The older brother tipped his head toward Tommy, a conflicted expression playing at his features. Tommy was staring at him with strangely… sad eyes. Wilbur wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his brother as despairing and dull as then.

Wilbur didn’t want to mess up, “Are you okay?” he prompted gently.

He was fighting back the urge to lean forward and check to make sure Tommy wasn’t in pain, but he didn’t want to scare Tommy by the sudden movement. Besides, Wilbur wasn’t sure he could trust himself to be that close to his Tommy. The brother lost that right… a while ago. Besides, he realized Tommy wasn't even ready for physical comfort when his brother shied away from Wilbur and wrapped his arms around his knees.

Tommy had a foreign expression haunting his eyes. Fear for what was going to happen. Wilbur felt sick. Was that fear directed toward him? He’d really fucked up, huh?

Please come back, Techno… The young man felt much more at ease with his hybrid twin. Technoblade was better at these things… the whole… remaining calm. Wilbur was still trying to piece together the memories of Ghostbur. It felt like his brain was a puzzle that he was doing upside down.

Wilbur feels his chest seize slightly. He wishes it was all a dream. Wilbur's eyes graze over the darkness shrouded form of his brother, and the young man bites his lip slightly. He should’ve protected Tommy. He should’ve been there.

He realizes Tommy never responded after a couple moments pass, and Wilbur can’t decide between wanting to disappear and wanting to wrap Tommy in a hug. “Tommy?” He tries again, not doing either. Tommy’s eyes flicker back to him, and those wide blue eyes stare up at Wilbur. Wilbur’s walking on thin ice, this he knows. Tommy’s in a vulnerable place. “It’s alright… I’m going to keep you safe now, okay?”

“I’m fine…” Tommy finally whispers.

Wilbur hates how small his brother’s voice sounds.

He takes a half step forward, calculating how much trust he had earned based on Tommy’s reaction. His brother’s response isn’t what he expected, didn’t match any of the millions of thoughts flooding through Wilbur’s head. Tommy’s eyes widened, and he froze minutely; just… accepting whatever was going to happen.

Rage -rage Wilbur couldn’t explain- flooded through the young man, and he found it hard to keep his head on straight. He doesn’t want to lose it like before he… died. He can't; Tommy needs him. “I’m not going to hurt you…” Wilbur feels obligated to assure. It doesn’t seem to help much because there is no change in Tommy’s defensive stance.

“Pff, I… know that,” Tommy tries, but it wouldn’t even fool a stranger. His stutter, his hesitation, his shudder, were all impossible to miss.

Wilbur feels daggers of hurt and anger stab at his lungs at heart. It feels like he’s on the battlefield without armor. Tommy, without even realizing it, is piercing through Wilbur's skin with a weapon far worse than Phil’s sword. Who did this to Tommy?

Was it Wilbur?

Was this Wilbur’s own doing?

The young man wants to turn tail and flee, just like Technoblade had. But he knows that it wouldn’t be fair to Tommy. Tommy deserved to know he had an ally in Wilbur. Even it took the older brother years to actually convince him. He’d trust Ghostbur. Wilbur felt his heart stutter with anger.

Technoblade had told Wilbur about his voices. Lately -or maybe not so recently, considering he’d been Ghostbur for a while- Wilbur had begun wondering if they were hereditary. But Wilbur only heard one voice other than his own, so he wasn’t sure.

Wilbur couldn’t help himself, “Do you… miss Ghostbur?” Did he wish Wilbur had never been revived?

This appeared to take Tommy by surprise because the teenager jerked his chin upward to look at his brother. An unreadable look washed over his eyes, and he held Wilbur’s gaze for the longest time yet before slowly casting them downward. “I dunno…” He answered after what had to be the longest minute of Wilbur’s life.

The young man bit his lip, keeping himself from breathing. He kind of wanted to pass out. Apologizing had never been Wilbur’s strong suit, despite being the more level-headed of his siblings. Apologizing had never been any of his family’s strong suits. They just… nodded and moved on. But… Tommy deserved an apology…

Why couldn’t Wilbur just do the one thing his baby brother needed?

His ‘sorry’ stung at his tongue, but his lips felt sewn shut.

“I should’ve been there for you,” Wilbur finally forces out. It’s the best he can do at the moment. He still can’t figure out why. Because he is. He is sorry. Tommy tenses at that, and Wilbur knows he’s struck a chord. You’re gonna fuck him up more. The young man is unsure whether to continue. “I thought… you’d be better off without me.”

Tommy’s fists clench. Wilbur briefly worries he’d get hit, only because he doesn’t want Tommy to hurt himself throwing the punch, but he knows his brother knows what he’s doing. Besides, he’d probably deserved to get punched. He'd abandoned Tommy.

The young man hesitates once more, “I’m back, though… Let me help-”

He watches as his brother snaps before his eyes. Anger flashes through Tommy’s eyes, and he lurched into a stand. “-I don’t need your fucking help, Wil!” The teenager’s eyes scream in pain, and Wilbur wants to tell him to sit down. He seriously hurt himself falling from the tower... Wilbur can’t think of what would happen if Technoblade hadn’t saved him. “I’ve gotten this far just fine on my fucking own! Okay? You left me! Everyone left me! But I’m fine! I can handle myself! I’m not a fucking child!”

Wilbur winces. Tommy’s right. He really did fuck up. “I know… I know you can… but let me help. Please, Tommy… I just want to help you.”

Something clicks in Tommy’s brain at Wilbur's last comment. It’s dark and traumatized. It’s like all of the teenager’s willpower and opinions spill out of him like he’s a popped inflatable. His lips move without a sound, and he slowly backs down again. Wilbur realizes with a jolt that he’d prefer it if his brother screamed at him.

This… emptiness. It made Wilbur sick. “Toms…?” He tries gently, coaxing out a calming voice. Or as calm as he can get without letting out his concern because once it got out of its dam, it'd drown them both. “Tommy? Are you there?” Wilbur moves forward, closer to the bed, until finally, he can get a good look at his brother. He wishes he never did.

Tommy looks like shit.

His eyes are haunted and lost in some flashback. He has bags under his eyes, and his cheekbone juts out of his skin like a sword. Wilbur isn’t sure how Technoblade handled being this close to their brother in this state without throwing up.

Wilbur wants to kill whoever did this to Tommy.

His hands shake and clench at his side.

The young man realizes a moment too late why Technoblade had left. It wasn’t safe to let their anger out -even if it was not directed at Tommy- around the kid. Tommy inhales sharply and paws desperately at the cloak Technoblade had wrapped around him earlier to stave off freezing to death. “I-I’m sorry… here, just… please don’t hurt me. Please? I didn’t… I didn’t mean to talk back. Shit, shit, shit. I’m sorry. Here…” his hands are shaking too hard. He can’t get the cloak off, and he grows more terrified by the minute. “I’m trying… one sec… please-”

“-Tommy!” Wilbur shouts, his concern making it hard for him to breathe. He lurches forward and grasps Tommy’s wrists. His brother yelps and tries to pull away. He’s crying. Wilbur hasn’t seen Tommy cry since he was… was… Wilbur blanks. It’d been a while. “Tommy, it’s okay!”

“Stop! Let- let go! I’m sorry! Help!” Tommy screams. It’s a sound that makes Wilbur drop his wrists and jump backward. Tears well in Wilbur’s eyes, and he has to wipe them away with the back of his hand.

His arms hurt, and he realizes with a shudder that it’s because, in Tommy’s panic, the boy had clawed up Wilbur’s skin. It hurts Wilbur to know he’s scared Tommy that much. “Tommy, please! It’s okay! It’s Wilbur! I’m not going to hurt you, I promise, Toms, it’s-”

He chokes with hesitation.

“-it’s your brother.” Wilbur still doesn’t know if he deserves the title.

But it makes Tommy stop. The teenager fixes him with a tear shimmering, wide-eyed stare. “Wilby?” The nickname makes Wilbur’s heart hurt with happy memories. Wilbur nods, and a soft… kind of a distorted look passes over his expression. “Wilby? Not… not…” he sniffs but hesitates.

Wilbur’s rage yearns to put a name to whoever hurt Tommy, but he's scared prompting Tommy would sense him into another meltdown. Maybe if he could just get his Ghostbur memories in line…

“Yeah, kiddo, it’s… Wilby…” Wilbur had always liked that nickname. It made him feel like he was doing his job as a brother right. He hadn’t heard it in a while. “I’m going to protect you now. Can you repeat that for me?” his voice is soft.

Now that Wilbur’s back, that Ghostbur is just another memory, nothing was going to happen to Tommy. If one more person laid an ill-fitting hand toward his brother, Wilbur would chop it off and feed it to them.

A smile graced Tommy’s face. It’s soothing, even against the harsh comparison that his tear splotchy face supplied. “You’re gonna protec’ me…” he yawns. It surprises Wilbur... how quickly his brother’s emotions had just… switched. But he’s thankful, and his heart hums with pride when the kid lays down on the bed and tries -fails- to keep his eyes open. “Wilby’s got my back…”

He’s out in seconds, leaving Wilbur’s brain reeling.

He needs to talk to Technoblade.

Chapter Text

“Techno!”

The hybrid cast a lackluster glance towards the direction he heard Wilbur shout. He’d be lying if he’d said he wasn’t startled by the sudden noise, but anyone would be at such an… angry and low-pitched shout. Technoblade raised an eyebrow to his twin before casting a quick glance at the door that had shut behind him.

Tommy? Where’s Tommy? Get Tommy! Get Tommy! Tommy! Technoblade rubbed at his head, and the pressure of his palm pressed against his skull managed to allow him to zone out the voices for long enough to listen to Wilbur.

Wilbur wracked his fingers through his hair, stopping when he realized he was still wearing his beanie. Technoblade frowned, unsure of Wilbur’s alarming reaction. “What the fuck happened? What the fuck happened?” He thrust an outstretched arm toward the door, and Technoblade didn’t react for a second. He was still trying to puzzle together what had brought such a strong reaction from Wilbur. Had something with Tommy? Or was Wilbur still mad about the hot soup incident?

He shrugged finally, an off-hand gesture to mask the concerns that bubbled inside his veins. “Heh?” Technoblade leaned against a wall of his house, tipping his head just slightly at Wilbur.

The voices continued to cry out Tommy’s name. Technoblade refused to address them.

“Don’t,” his twin warned him. His voice was dangerously low, and Technoblade gave up -mostly- on his level-headed façade. “Just… tell me.” Wilbur’s pauses suggested exhaustion, but his limbs were still taut with murderous rage and demand for understanding.

Technoblade sighed, hating the guilt that swirled inside his brain. “I don’t know.” He finally answered, gritting his teeth and turning away, refusing to meet Wilbur’s eyes. Technoblade was a rational person, but his voices were not, and he wasn’t going to allow Wilbur’s insanity to feed them.

His brother let out a scoff, frustration lacing the sound. “What? No. You were here! How could you let Tommy go through…” Wilbur’s voice died -unsure- before picking up, skipping the word neither brother wanted to say- trauma. "You should have been there for him! Do you even care?"

The hybrid felt a defensive wave surge through him, and he once again rubbed at his skull, trying to get his head clear enough to come up with a reply that wouldn’t set Wilbur off. God, his head fucking hurt. He hated the fucking voices when they were like this. “I hadn’t seen him in a while… I thought Tommy could take care of himself.” Technoblade shrugged slightly, trying to mask the hatred for his actions with indifference.

Because he hated what he’d done- what he hadn’t done.

Technoblade should have checked up on Tommy. Should have looked more intently for his place of exile. Maybe if he had, none of this would be happening.

Wilbur broke his train of thought, “Tommy can’t take care of himself!” Technoblade’s eyes widened minutely. His twin had always been Tommy’s number one supporter... so this seemed particularly dark for the young man. Wilbur glanced quickly at the door that led to Tommy and lowered his voice, “Nobody can, Techno, not alone. Especially a sixteen-year-old! He needed his family, and nobody was there for him!"

“He had Phil…” Technoblade tried, but the attempt was vain, and both debaters knew it.

“No,” Wilbur’s voice shook a little, and Technoblade cursed himself for hurting both of his brothers in less than an hour. “You had Phil… Since… since forever. Tommy had… me. Without me... Tommy was alone.”

The hybrid hesitated, unsure when his twin swiped a hand against his eyes. Technoblade couldn’t comfort. It wasn’t his strong suit; everyone knew that. So, why did he always land in positions like this with his brothers? And why did he always want to help but never understand how? Hell, everything he did messed things up more.

Technoblade wished Wilbur was actually hurt. Because then it would be a wound Technoblade could heal. He was a good healer- he just needed an injury to treat.

“Ghostbur helped some, ‘m pretty sure…” It was as good of a job Technoblade could do. The hybrid twin turned away, blocking his view from Wilbur completely, so he could quickly make some soup. Soup that wouldn’t burn Tommy, nor whoever drank it.

Wilbur sighed, “Not enough, clearly…”

A beat of silence. Technoblade focused his attention on the soup. He’d decided to make beef stew instead of mushroom this time, mostly to make something different. Something different had a higher chance of distracting him enough to get out of this… guilt-ridden, comfort-seeking swamp.

His brother sighed heavily and approached Technoblade, looking over the hybrid’s shoulder. “What are you making?”

And just like that, they were moving on. Technoblade was more than okay with that. He didn’t understand why so many people needed the whole heartfelt apology thing. In his opinion, just don’t do something so fucking terrible that you need to apologize. Because apologies were awkward for both parties, and he never knew how to respond.

Technosorry? Technowrong? EEE. Technoright. Techno can’t be wrong. Technoblade rolled his eyes, mixing the soup and pushing the voices as far back as possible. “Beef stew. Can’t believe I gave Tommy that soup…” His voice was angry, but Wilbur seemed to understand it was only directed toward himself.

“...I can’t believe he kept drinking it,” Wilbur added with a slight shudder.

Technoblade didn’t want to think about the emotions that were brought up again. He’d felt angry enough for burning his brother; He didn’t even want to entertain the protective surge that burned for revenge. Whoever had ingrained that level of manipulation and abuse onto his brother was going to die, but he really couldn’t let the voices catch on to something that would lure in bloodlust.

They sucked enough already. Technoblade sighed, “We’ll deal with it.”

“Hell yeah, we will,” Wilbur agreed, taking the spoon that Technoblade passed and proceeding to take on the job of mixing the soup. “Has Phil responded yet?” Phil had never really liked being called Dad, although he tolerated the occasional Dadza. Wilbur couldn’t personally understand, he’d always loved it when Fundy called him Dad, but he’d long accepted his father’s wish.

Technoblade shook his head, returning to the soup bowl with a couple spices. “I just told him to come visit as soon as possible, but he’s busy.”

His brother’s voice was a touch hesitant, “You didn’t tell him about… Tommy?”

The hybrid tensed slightly and added in the spices. “Can’t risk anyone knowing where Tommy is. Phil will find out when he gets here,” Technoblade’s words were curt but also played as a warning to Wilbur. Nobody could know where Tommy was until they knew who hurt him. “Is Tommy asleep?” He inquired, taking the mixing spoon back from Wilbur.

Wilbur nodded and murmured a yes as Technoblade carefully poured the soup into individual bowls. He’d made enough for each brother to have some, plus leftovers. He didn’t need that much food in his home, but when he’d left Tommy’s room, he’d needed to do something productive, or he’d burn the forest down or something drastically similar.

Passing Wilbur’s bowl to his twin, Technoblade cracked a small smile, “Careful, it’s hot.”

His brother scoffed in amusement. And Technoblade felt his heart warm slightly at being in the company of Wilbur. It’d been a long time. The Wilbur that Technoblade had worked with not too long ago hadn’t been his brother; it’d been a version of him corrupted by pressure and government and people. This… the young man who stood in front of Technoblade now, was his brother.

And God had he missed his brother. Technoblade glanced back to Tommy’s room, and his gaze lingered there for a long time. They just needed Tommy, and then it would be like the old days. Technoblade smiled slightly and finally allowed the voices to drift into his thoughts. They weren’t reminiscing; they were planning. Planning to murder on the person who’d hurt Tommy.

Technoblade’s grip on his soup bowl tightened slightly, and the bloodlust of the voices seeped into his mind for a second. Whoever hurt Tommy was not going to get away with it.

Wilbur seemed to share the sentiment, and Technoblade was glad but unable to push away his concerns that stemmed from Wilbur's anger.

He needed Wilbur to stay his brother; he couldn't have Wilbur go insane like before. It wouldn't be good for anyone.

Chapter Text

It took two days for Tommy to have an actual conversation. It was with Wilbur.

Technoblade had gone out for supplies and had been gone no more than two hours, but Tommy couldn’t help the cold manipulative dagger of dread in his bones. Wilbur was seated on a chair in the room Tommy had been offered for recovery.

Tommy hadn’t spoken much at the time; his words had felt glued to the roof of his mouth where they just rotted in regrets. Wilbur had told stories, sometimes, but for the most part, Tommy was left alone to be in his silence. To learn how to breathe on his own time. On the day the teenager decided to talk, his brother was using his guitar.

The tune he played was bittersweet, offering a happy melody, but the chords swirled in echoed darkness and grief. It reminded Tommy faintly of Tubbo.

“I missed you more,” he blurted out.

Wilbur stopped playing. He glanced up, his dark eyes lighting for a second in kindness. His eyebrows pricked upward, surprised and confused.

The teenager hesitated then, drawing a tongue over the roof of his mouth, shoving his thoughts into words. “Before… you asked if I missed Ghostbur,” Tommy explained quietly. He’d been thinking about that question ever since it’d first been asked. He was sure of his answer, just unsure of how Wilbur would take it. “I do. But… I missed you more. A lot more.”

It grew kind of quiet, a soft, thoughtful quiet.

Then, Wilbur smiled. And it made Tommy’s eyes sparkle a little bit, and hope flare in his chest. It felt freeing to say what was on his mind, and to be rewarded with an answer such as a smile. Because with Tommy, it was always one or the other. People said they cared about his words but refused to listen, or they didn’t care, so he spoke louder.

“I missed you too, Tommy,” Wilbur responded with a small sigh. “You’re my pain in the ass little brother... it’s hard not to.” he chuckled.

Tommy wanted to laugh as well, but the movement was so foreign he only found himself smiling. It was the most and least he could do, and it made his heart tremble with happiness that Wilbur thought it was enough.

The teenager looked to Wilbur’s guitar, “Can you play something?”

__________

It took three days for Tommy to get out of bed on his own accord.

It was early in the morning, and the teenager had been unable to sleep the entire night. He had around forty minutes under his belt so far, but he’d never been able to stay asleep long. Nightmares plagued his dreams, as well as his reality, but they were worse because there was no Wilbur or Technoblade in his dreams.

He didn’t tell anyone of his troubles at night, and nobody asked.

Sunlight had barely begun to filter through the windows, and Tommy shifted into a sitting position on the bed. It was one of the rare moments he was left alone; when his brothers were both catching up on missed sleep. They didn’t trust him to be alone, but he couldn’t blame them because he couldn’t trust himself either.

That was enough dwelling. Tommy gently brushed the blankets off of him and moved his legs off of the bed. It was cold, the arctic usually was, but he’d grown used to the warmth of his covers and bed. The only reason the teenager got out of bed was to use the restroom, and when Technoblade told him he had to walk around the room for a couple minutes so his legs wouldn’t get fucked or something.

When he stood up, his legs shook a little, less at the action and more at the gravity behind it.

If he was able to get up and actually move, what then held him back from running away during a bad mood swing. Tommy swallowed hard and brushed the thought as far away as he could, pushing onward.

He glanced at his door, which was closed. He wouldn’t leave the room, for the sound of the door opening would wake up Technoblade, and he wanted to let his brothers rest for once. Instead, Tommy headed over to the chair that Wilbur always chose to sit in when he watched over Tommy. He pulled the coat -Wilbur's- that had been draped over it onto his shoulders. He loved it. It smelled like his brother. And the chair was soft, he realized after sitting down, and he was thankful for that.

His limbs were still sore from too long of overexertion, frostbite, and malnourishment.

Tommy stayed there, in the chair, for the majority of the morning.

When Technoblade came in to check on him, he looked over to the chair in surprise and then grinned and gave him an encouraging nod. If Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d say his brother almost looked proud.

__________

It took five days for Tommy to eat at the dining table.

He’d been up a lot since he’d first decided to start getting up in the mornings and sleeping at night more from how tired he got during the day. Tommy didn’t do much; mostly taking care of Carl for Technoblade or searching the house for stuff Wilbur declared he needed for crafting.

But it made him feel important, and after two days of tirelessly doing everything he could for his brothers, Tommy finally decided he was worthy of sitting at the table to sit.

Tommy said nothing that night when he plopped himself down in a chair and set the food that had been carried to his room on the wooden table. Wilbur, to his right, glanced over, grinned, and took control of the conversation. Technoblade, still standing, held his soup and watched with some sort of fascinated shock.

After a moment, once Technoblade seemed sure Tommy was there to stay, he took a seat and began eating in comfortable silence. Listening to the loud banter between Wilbur and Tommy.

That was the first time things began to feel like home again.

And for Tommy, it was the first time he felt safe in a long time.

__________

But it was the seventh day that changed everything.

Tommy had slept six hours, plenty compared to his average, and was sitting on the floor of his room as Wilbur tuned his guitar beside him. Both brothers could’ve chosen the bed or chairs for seating, but seemed perfectly comfortable on the ground. Technoblade, on the other hand, sat on his chair as he braided his hair and listened, seeming at peace.

It was a good morning. And Tommy was finally returning to his normal self. He still hadn’t opened up, to either brother, about what happened in his exile, but nobody pushed. It wasn’t something he’d ever be able to even think about without ruining his day, and while talking might’ve improved his mental state, he refused to think about it.

But then there was the knock. Once, twice, then silence.

The teenager froze, suddenly mortified as a list of people who could be at the door formed in his brain. Wilbur went silent, and his body tensed when he saw Tommy’s state. He set his guitar down, carefully, against the wall and stood up.

Technoblade stood up, his hair half braided, but his mind was now completely on the door. He was silent, and if at all bothered by Tommy’s reaction, it didn’t show.

Wilbur put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder but had to pull it back quickly when the teenager flinched aggressively away. “Come on,” he whispered quietly. “We’ve gotta go.” Wilbur didn’t seem nervous. In fact, he was taking the moment in stride as he and Technoblade carried out some sort of plan previously organized.

Unable to speak, to breathe even, Tommy nodded numbly and followed.

What if it was Tubbo? What if he had to look his former best friend in the face and realize that the kid never cared about him in the first place? Or, what if it was someone else from L’Manburg? What if he had to face the very people who turned their back on him for something he couldn’t have deserved? And then… what if it was Dream? Finally, after teasing Tommy for a week with safety, collecting Tommy.

He was led away from the room as Technoblade quickly cleared any evidence of his existence. It wasn’t much, mostly just stuffing his compass -Fuck! His compass!- into a drawer, and throwing a cover over the chair in which Tommy had scraped his name into with a knife.

“What’s… what’s going to happen to me?” Tommy asked, his voice only an octave above silent.

Wilbur glanced back at him, softly, like he wanted to put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and comfort him. But he didn’t make any motion to and instead dug into a chest and pulled out an invisibility potion. It bubbled in the glass container, and Tommy felt his stomach cave in on itself. Potions always made him sick and fucked over his appetite for the rest of the day.

Gently, in a way that offered comfort, “It could be Phil,” But Tommy didn’t believe him because if it was Phil, they wouldn’t be acting this way. And why would Phil knock? Why wouldn’t he call out that it was him? And besides, would Phil even be better to see? The idea of seeing his father made him so sick a potion was now suddenly nothing in comparison.

He took the potion and downed the bottle.

His stomach instantly clenched up in disgust, and his tongue burned in distaste. But it was watching his limbs slowly become nothing that made him want to scream. God, he hated potions. The way they did things that shouldn’t be done, the way they messed with the very laws of physics, and, finally, the way they drained you of any energy you had left.

Wilbur’s face twitched slightly, the only thing showing Tommy that he too could barely stand the effects of the potion. But Wilbur didn’t have to take the potion, so Tommy refused to let himself feel guilty. “Just stand here, and don’t move. I promise, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you…” The older brother reassured, but the words fell on deaf ears because Tommy just stared ahead, eyes blank as he moved further into the corner.

Panic had begun to eat away at him and he knew this would have more of an effect than any other ‘milestone’ he’d accomplished before. He’d never be able to live without that lingering feeling of terror, would he? He was stuck living in fear forever, even if he never had to go back to Dream, that wouldn't change.

And then the door opened.

With a simple, “Technoblade!” Tommy’s nightmares were his reality.

“Dream! Whatever do I owe this pleasure to?”

Chapter Text

Flakes of fallen ice combed through Technoblade’s skin and hair, settling there for moments before melting against his body heat. He was silent, warped in thoughts, as Carl’s foot echoed against the ground.

In contrast to the quiet surroundings, Technoblade’s mind roared with noise.

Wilbur was seated behind him, slumped against his brother as he soothed his exhaustion. He’d been dead for months, and the first thing he decided to do was sleep? It was alright, though, the piglin decided, because then he wouldn’t have to talk to Wilbur about… everything that had happened in his absence.

Technoblade wondered if he knew of Ghostbur. Chat wondered if he’d blow up Technoblade’s house. “Heh?” the young adult huffed. “I wouldn’t let him. Calm down.”

They were unconvinced, and Technoblade sighed in annoyance. It was as if they forgot Wilbur was his brother before some lunatic who’d lost to his frenzy. And, even more than that, it was like they’d forgotten Technoblade was the Blood God, and nobody was going to blow up his base. Not if he had even the slightest opposition to it. Wilbur was good, but Technoblade would always be a step ahead when it came to crime.

He almost didn’t hear the scream because the voices were so loud. So wrapped up in Wilbur’s revival. But his eyes darted up at movement that wasn’t snow, and the sight of a dirt tower spasmed in Technoblade’s brain.

And finally, hushing the rest of the chat, a single, terrified scream that slipped past Technoblade’s lips. “TOMMY!”

The kid’s body was thrashing in the air as he was desperately drawn to the ground.

Technoblade whipped out his trident and threw himself into the air. The snow felt like hail to his skin at the speed he was thrown at, but he felt nothing but terror for Tommy. The piglin gripped his trident tightly with one hand and narrowed his eyes to focus.

Wilbur had awakened and yelled abruptly when Technoblade rocketed off Carl but caught on quickly and fell silent in icy terror.

Time seemed to freeze around Technoblade as he wrapped his free arm around Tommy’s now still body. He’d passed out sometime between Technoblade last saw him, but comfort settled in Technoblade’s chest now that his baby brother was now pressed against his chest. Tommy looked nothing like he did when Technoblade saw him last.

His eyes were bloodshot, and his lips a dangerous purple. Even unconscious, he looked troubled, and it was the way that Technoblade’s hands were gripping mostly tattered clothing rather than flesh that sent red hot rage through his body. The kid was starved.

Chat, which had been mostly silent since they’d seen Tommy, lurched into motion at that moment.

MLG! We're falling!! TECHNOFOCUS

Their screams roared in Technoblade ears, and he realized with the panicked thought that they were right to be yelling. He had forgotten about where he currently was.

Technoblade didn’t have time to pull out his water bucket.

He pulled Tommy tighter and shifted over as they fell together. If he landed right, he might lose a life, but his brother would be fine. Technoblade never died, but he’d throw all his rules out for Tommy. For Wilbur. For Phil. If they lost their pain in the ass kid, Technoblade knew that would be it for them.

The piglin breathed in Tommy’s feeling of safety of comfort. He smelled of explosions and cold and… and family.

Technoblade hit the ground.

But… instead of waking up from a lost life, found himself drenched in water.

“Holy shit, Technoblade! You almost just died!” Wilbur screamed at his side, and the piglin relaxed his grip on Tommy, letting his shoulders sag in relief. They were fine. They were all fine. His hand smoothed across his baby’s brother’s neck, gently pressing on the skin above his pulse. It was there, muffled and small... but steady. “Fuck! Tommy!”

The piglin took a brief moment to catch his breath but then slowly got to his feet. Chat was screaming now that he stood, cheering about how Technoblade never died.

He’d make sure to thank Wilbur for saving his life later, but for now, he had to deal with the brother in his arms. “Come on, we have to get back.”

Technoblade was not going to let Tommy go again.

__________

“Just a friendly visit, one good friend to another,” Dream declared.

It sounded like he was smiling behind his empty mask, which was the brightest red flag. Impatience curled along Technoblade’s mind, burning chat into silent submission. He huffed, not once losing the exaggerated grin of welcoming. “Good friend, huh?” Technoblade let that sit in the air before Dream gave into the awkward terseness.

He nodded and crooked his mask to the side slightly, offering Technoblade a glimpse into a dangerous green eye. A scar was carved into his skin, slicing the eyebrow and cheekbone and the orb of color in between. The eye was a void of nothingness and stared in Technoblade without even blinking.

What was meant to feel like an hour only lasted as long as it actually was, a couple seconds. Technoblade was not as easily intimidated as the others under Dream’s command, and simply being stared at by the face behind the mask was not nearly enough to send shivers down his spine. So he stared back, his smile fading into a competitive smirk.

After a moment, Dream shifted the mask back onto his face, hiding the features underneath.

Technoblade crossed his arms, still refusing to break eye contact. “Watch yourself, Dream,” He warned in a low, dark voice. He was not going to allow someone to just come to his house and act like they own the place. And then, once again, “What can I do for you?”

The man in front of him was silent for a moment, anger boiling under his veins. Technoblade was unfazed and waited patiently.

What did intimate him? Scare him, even? Was Tommy, hiding not five feet away, and the invisibility potion slowly waning. So, Dream’s visit needed to be as curt and short as possible. Technoblade heard a sharp inhale of air from behind him. Wilbur. And tensed up minutely at how angry he sounded.

Don’t do anything stupid.

“I’m looking for something,” Dream finally caved.

Technoblade raised an eyebrow. “And that involves me…?”

He was pissing Dream off, he could tell. It was good. An angry person couldn’t think properly, couldn’t figure things out. Technoblade just needed to add the perfect amount of pressure to break Dream. Then, he could find everything the masked man was hiding. Because secrets were sparking around Dream, begging to be spilled.

Dream took a steadying breath before responding, “It’s important that it is returned to me, and was wondering if you…” he hesitated, but not out of fear, but suspense. “...knew where it was? Because, if you have it, I’m going to need it back.”

That could be anything.

That could be anything.

That could be anything.

Technoblade’s eyes locked onto where Dream’s eyes were located behind the mask. “I’m sure I don’t know,” he returned sharply, warning, threatening. He was not a man to be pushed. Chat was burning in his mind, multiplying by the second in a red hot rage. He found himself slowly undoing, the threads holding his violence in slipping apart by the second.

It could be anything. Dream couldn't be talking about Tommy.

“Do you mind if I look, then?” Dream offered in false innocence. Completely unbeknownst to the anger pulsing behind the piglin hybrid. Having absolutely no clue to the danger he was in by pushing. “You know… in case it’s… lost.” He stepped forward, only to be blocked by Technoblade’s body.

“Actually, I do. Dream, what don’t you understand by this is my house. You, nor anything can just waltz in here unplanned. So, you have two options.” Technoblade leaned closer to the masked man, his eyes sparkling crimson as the voices continued to scream. Oh, how close he was to giving in, to just killing Dream. “One, turn back and plan a visit here. And two…” he patted his axe. “Challenge me to a duel and earn a place into my home.”

Oh, how he wished that Dream would challenge him.

He wanted to rip the man apart, tear out his bones and leave them on his door as a wreath. The only thing containing him was the uncertainty. They were speaking in tongues, in threats and hidden meanings.

The moment he had Tommy’s confirmation, however… Dream would finally figure out just how dangerous Technoblade could really be.

Because, for his family, he’d do anything.

Dream paused, and Technoblade grip on his weapon tightened. Begging to tempt the masked man into accepting the challenge. He just needed a yes. Chat howled in his ears, begging for the okay. Begging, begging, begging for blood. They needed blood. Dream’s blood. When Dream spoke, he sounded nervous. “No, that’s alright. But, you’ll be hearing from me shortly.”

He turned and strolled away, his muscles once again loose with feigned ease, not a care in the world. It took everything of Technoblade not to stab him in the back right then. Rip out his spine, crack his neck, boil him in lava. Technoblade was shaking now, and his eyes had ceased their flicking. Instead, they seemed stuck on the crimson shade. Everything was warped in red; The snow, the wood of his house, his clothes.

And Dream’s blood was on all of it.

But then, he heard a cry. It was near-silent, and it wasn’t for Technoblade’s laser focus, he would’ve missed it without a doubt. His fury seeped out instantly, bleeding out of his bones and releasing their violent hold on him. He still shook, far beyond just anger anymore, but the voices stopped demanding blood and started begging Technoblade to stop the crying.

Help Tommy! He’s crying! Help him! Help him! Save him! Big brother Techno! Save Tommy! The piglin hybrid shifted his hand away from his weapon and turned around. He didn’t see Tommy, as the boy was still hidden from the potion's effects, but silver bubbles in the corner of his house gave away Tommy’s hiding place.

Technoblade carefully shut the door and momentarily refused to move. He felt… too angry to be around his brother. The voices were quiet now, but for how long? How long until he snapped again? And with only his brothers around, who would he snap at but them? So, instead of moving closer, he froze where he was and stared at Tommy from a distance.

“He’s gone, Toms…” Wilbur was whispering but also refused to get closer to the kid.

The piglin’s hands tightened, and he made eye contact with his twin. Wilbur looked calm on the outside, but the moment his eyes locked onto Technoblade’s, they darkened for a split second. A silent promise between brothers.

Dream?

Dream was never going to bother Tommy again.

Chapter Text

It was a steely kind of silence that slunk around the cabin.

The kind of silence that cursed the room with hateful discomfort. Wilbur could’ve sworn he had ground his teeth down to nothing, but whenever another wave of anger sailed on by, the sharp white bundles of tissue bit down against each other once again. While on the outside, he was the picture of ease, the young man found himself struggling against his anger.

He was going to kill that son of a bitch Dream. He was going to, and his mind refused to let him think of anything besides it.

Tommy moved. Wilbur had to force himself to switch tracks in his brain, “Tommy?” but his brother remained silent. Ever since his first couple muffled cries, when the distress was enough to crack his calm, the boy had gone silent. And it terrified Wilbur into even more rage. His little brother was not the type to cower and to cry and to go quiet in fear.

The young man’s hands shook, the first outward sign of his racing mind. Wilbur shoved them into his pockets, but he couldn’t place a finger on why. Wilbur had nothing to hide around his brothers, but hiding his weaknesses was something he’d learned long ago in the art of politics, and it was a hard habit to shake, even now. Even when maybe, if he’d just wrap Tommy in his arms instead of adding to the silence, he could help. Actually help.

Soon, when Tommy still did not speak, Wilbur couldn’t contain himself anymore.

Technoblade seemed fine; he’d seemed fine since he got trapped in his thoughts -who knew what the voices were telling his brother- again. Wilbur knew he wasn’t, hell, Tommy probably knew he wasn’t, but he didn’t even bat an eye when Wilbur reached out desperately for his younger brother. Technoblade didn’t even move, but it was Tommy reacting either that raised red flags.

Wilbur hated it. The way his brothers were just locking up, retreating into their minds, where he couldn’t do anything to help. The young man’s fingers curled around Tommy’s shirt, around the torn edges, and his nails lightly scraped against the kid’s arm. He didn’t mean to, but his own panic was making Wilbur’s movements shaky and incautious. Tommy didn’t respond, and if it wasn’t for the heartbeat Wilbur had more than struggled to find, he would’ve worried that his brother was dead.

He didn’t know what to do. What would Ghostbur have done? What would Niki do? Wilbur bit down on his lip, and the chapped skin ripped at the pressure. He tasted copper and could only think of what he’d do to Dream.

And then, Tommy’s hands wrapped gently around Wilbur’s body. The brother’s heart stopped and then hummed, unstable in his chest. Pride buzzed through him, but like any high, it fell short all too quickly when he noticed how badly Tommy was shaking.

“It’s alright now, Tommy. It’s all okay, now..”

Memories of Niki whisked through his mind. Of all the times that she had stayed up late with him during the election. Memories of her rubbing his back and smoothing his sweat-slicked hair of the way when he was stressed. Memories of her desperately trying to hold him still long enough to get through to the failing mind of insanity.

And now, here he was.

Holding his baby brother close to him, combing a hand against his back to calm him. It always worked so well when Niki did it. Wilbur's lips parted, and without him realizing it, he began speaking words Niki had once told him, “Things will get better. Still hard, maybe, but they’ll get better…” Tommy seemed to calm just barely under the words. “You have us, Toms, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

It’d been years since he’d earnestly comforted Tommy; Wilbur hesitated since he’d even reassured anyone. The young man felt like he was grasping at straws, but the straws were knives, and if he grabbed the wrong one, he’d cut his brother wide open.

His brain didn’t make things any easier on him because once Niki had slipped through his guarded mind, other memories did too. Trickling into his thoughts and making it hard, so hard, to breathe.

Memories of him that wasn’t him; of Ghostbur and whoever he was before he died, a psychopath. But no, that was too harsh, and Phil would tell him not to think things like that about yourself. -Where was Phil, anyway?- But the things he’d done… the things Dream had done… to Tommy. It was debilitating, and Wilbur was beginning to wonder if they were all just unredeemable monsters.

Technoblade never should’ve revived him.

It was the red of Tommy’s shirt that caught Wilbur’s eye. It pulled him out of his head like cheese and a mouse. Creeping at first, but then racing. Because finally, the potion was wearing off as splotches of his brother pooled into existence once again.

What hurt the most was how red and scraped Tommy’s arms were once they came into view. They’d been scratched to the point that a patch of raw skin was beginning to form droplets of blood. Wilbur couldn’t find the energy to get angry again and simply continued to rub his brother's back gently until Technoblade spoke up.

“Tommy-”

Wilbur silenced him with a look full of so much threat it froze Technoblade in his tracks. The brother’s message was clear. Do not bring up Dream.

Technoblade curled in frustration but accepted it as he turned and headed for the door. Wilbur thought of calling out, reminding him that they were going after Dream together, but when Technoblade took no weapons, the young man allowed him to leave without interruption. He understood needing to blow off steam. In fact, once he had Tommy pried off of him -not that he minded- and put to bed, he had his own thoughts of blowing something up or lighting an entire forest on fire.

But… Tommy wasn’t coming to yet, and it made Wilbur panic. “Toms?”

It was then he heard the quiet snores of the sleeping teenager. Wilbur froze, going as still as stone. Tommy’s arms were still draped over the brother’s shoulders, but it was only then did he realize that his brother had his head resting against his chest. His eyes closed as he slept in an at least peaceful looking slumber. Wilbur hoped sincerely that his brother’s dreams weren’t as haunted as his reality.

So, as carefully as he could, Wilbur slowly shifted his arm around Tommy’s all too thin waist and rose to his feet. Tommy’s body was limp in exhaustion against Wilbur. The young man felt both honored and terrified at the trust his brother had put in him by falling asleep. What if he screwed it up again?

Or what if Wilbur had it all completely wrong?

He was no stranger to the fact that Tommy seemed to appreciate, even love, Ghostbur’s presence, and Wilbur found himself hating the thought that the other reason Tommy fell asleep was that he believed Wilbur was, in fact, just Ghostbur. It made him sicker and more jealous than he wanted to handle. Carrying the kid to his room... Wilbur’s eyes flickered down to Tommy’s resting features; even in sleep, he seemed worried again.

“I’m gonna protect you from now on. Whatever it takes to get your trust back, okay?”

And, as he was setting Tommy down on the bed, he nearly shouted in shock when Tommy replied. “Don’t kill Dream.”

__________

When Tommy returned to planet earth, he was being carried.

At first, he kept the act up, measuring the danger of the situation he was in. He managed to cross a list of people whose arms he couldn't be in off a matter of moments, Phil -no feathers-, Technoblade -missing that Nether warmth-, Dream -no feeling of danger-, and Tubbo -could not carry him, a tested fact-.

He didn’t have time to weed out the rest of those he knew before his carrier actually spoke. “I’m gonna protect you from now on. Whatever it takes to get your trust back, okay?” And the way Wilbur talked... so calm and warm, Tommy couldn't help just allowing himself to believe.

Maybe it was all a manipulation tactic, which Wilbur was not immune to -even if so far he’d seemed to change-, but Tommy didn’t think about it. He never cared in the end because Wilbur was his brother. And if he couldn’t trust his brother, then there was nobody left for him to have faith in.

Tommy wasn’t sure why he ended up speaking, but once his body made contact with his bed, he couldn’t help himself, “Don’t kill Dream.”

Silence.

Oh, how the silence hurt.

The teenager had to open his eyes then, blinking wide, dark blue eyes up at Wilbur. The young man had stiffened, and his brown eyes seemed like they were masking amber orbs. Amber forged in a deep-seated rage and lust for violence. And Tommy found himself shutting down. Because he knew it. He'd fucking known it!

Wilbur hadn’t really changed, had he? Tommy had really wanted to believe that maybe that murderous vine that possessed his brother was really gone, but now he was staring directly into it.

Without really noticing, he began to backtrack his words in a panic. “I-I mean not yet, not yet… okay? I, listen, I really…” he was shaking again. “...I really need to, like, talk to him first, okay? T-then I don’t care what you and Techno,” he scrambled to finish his brother's name. “-blade, do to him. But I… I just need… I need to talk to him first. Please?” He was choking on his words now, sputtering things he hadn’t planned on saying in the first place.

At this point, Tommy was unsure whether his words were just something he’d wanted to say but hidden from even himself or something he was making up on the go.

Wilbur reached out to him, something jolted piercing through the man’s expression, something that may have been panic? But Tommy could only remember the void in his eyes that filled with hate and anger. He knew his brother couldn’t help it, but that didn’t change anything. What if Wilbur snapped again? What if he got himself killed again? Tommy winced away from the young man.

Tommy’s vision was flashing now. Cutting in and out of fucked up memories and darkness and blocking out what he was actually experiencing. Because instead of Wilbur launching away from him, Tommy saw Dream grabbing his arm so tightly it burned red. Instead of Wilbur whispering a guilt-stricken apology, Tommy heard Technoblade telling him to die as he summoned withers. Instead of Wilbur backing away, Tommy saw Tubbo banishing him from L’manberg. Instead of the door shutting as Wilbur hurried outside of the room, Tommy heard Phil drunkenly shattering glass against the wall as he tried miserably to cope with killing his son.

And soon Tommy’s nails found his skin, and he began desperately clawing at the skin cage that was keeping him here in a place where everyone was lying to him. Where everybody was just one bad day away from blowing up a nation.

His throat constricted, and then Dream was reaching out to him. Gentle now, so much more doting than any of Tommy’s other thoughts. The gloved hand held itself out to Tommy, and his mask had been crooked back to reveal a soft, kind smile. In his state, Tommy couldn’t find himself to remember that it was all a facade. All he could remember was how Dream felt stable, calm.

Tommy’s stomach pulsed in his body, and bile rose into his throat. He barely managed to throw himself off the bed before he vomited.

Everything felt wrong.

He missed Dream, the false serenity and sanity that the man gave off. Because he had been lying, faking, but at least… at least Tommy felt… normal there. Here, with Technoblade and Wilbur, it was all so wrong. How was he supposed to believe they suddenly cared about him now? They hadn’t for years. At least with Dream, things were easy to predict.

He knew Dream. He knew the man’s triggers, the things that made him tick, and the things that made him calm. He understood Dream from watching, from experiencing it all. He knew Dream better than Dream knew himself.

But here? In this cabin? Tommy didn’t know who was living with him. His brother’s seemed to turn on the dime. One moment, they seemed so gentle, caring, like the ones he had grown up with. And the next, they were as angry as they had been when they tried to kill everyone he loved. To Dream, he was always a pawn. But to his brothers, Tommy could never tell if he was a little brother or collateral damage. He’d been both too many times.

Tommy heaved again, the thoughts too much for his deprived brain. He couldn’t stop the flashbacks now; he was too lost to all of them now. Everything his brain had pushed away to cope was coming flooded back to him like water through a broken dam.

What had he been thinking? What the absolute hell had he been thinking? Trusting Wilbur and Technoblade? Letting his guard down?

The teenager briefly thought of escaping, but with two skilled trackers on his back -not to even mention Dream was looking for him already- and his current state? He knew he wouldn’t make it far. Then he thought of dying. It made him feel terrible and heaved yet again at the memories of his failed attempt. It was the supposed easy way out, but it wouldn’t solve anything. Wouldn’t even work.

In the end, he was left with the decision he’d known was going to be chosen.

He had to pretend to get better. Had to be the manipulator before he ended up being manipulated again. Tommy sighed shakily at the decision. Now, how the hell was he going to do this? How was the teenager going to lie to the two most cunning, genius people he’d ever met? Tommy cringed when he discovered what he’d have to do.

Tommy was going to have to kill Dream.