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Tommy shivered as he woke up. It was cold, so so cold. He braced himself for the chill as he yanked the blankets off himself and walked into the rest of the house. His toes curled on the hardwood floors and carpets alike as he made his way to the kitchen. It was only when he stopped at the thermostat that he realized the power was out.
Wonderful.
At least the food wouldn’t go bad. It was cold enough to keep the frozen goods fresh too. He shivered again.
He checked the doorway looking for a familiar pair of brown winter boots. They weren’t there. Figures.
Wilbur had left the night before to get more firewood and food from the village. He had probably holed up in a friend’s house when the storm had hit.
Phil and Techno were out on a hunt this week.
While Phil was a farmer, and by extension so were Techno Wilbur and Tommy, in the winter when money got lower than was comfortable, he and Techno would take the occasional job of driving mobs out of villages. They tried not to stay away for very long, but either way, they were gone this week, and Tommy was alone
Tommy exhaled and watched in fascination as his breath curled up dispersed into the cool air. He checked the pile of firewood and found a few logs, it wouldn’t last very long but it was better than nothing.
He sat down with the matches and carefully arranged the logs like Phil had taught him to. He opened the box and noted with a frown that there were only a few left. That wasn’t good.
He plucked one from the box and struck it against the die of the box, watching in mild awe as the newborn flame danced on the end of the stick, casting a gentle orange glow over his hand. He felt the warmth as it sunk lower along the body of the match. The smoke curled above it as if taunting the fire to rise.
Tommy hastily moved the match to the log before the flame could spread to where his fingers were gripping the stick. He waited patiently for it to catch. He frowned as the flame shied away from the log. He held it closer, determined to warm up. Even if it was only temporarily.
The flame got close to his hand and Tommy reluctantly blew it out, his eyes following the way the smoke danced around the charred wood.
He only had a few matches left, so he placed a palm against the bark of the log. He frowned when he realized it was damp.
He checked the other logs finding the same thing for all of them.
There was no way for him to get a fire going now.
Time for plan B.
He walked through the rooms in the house collecting all the warmest blankets they owned. He celebrated silently when he was able to snag Wilbur’s forest green blanket. Wilbur loved it and promised death to anyone who dared touch it without his permission -like Tommy was doing now. It was incredibly warm, just how Tommy remembered from the few times he had been allowed to snuggle under it, curled up against Wilbur.
The memory alone warmed him up a bit.
Once he had done that he headed back to his room, which was the smallest one in the house. He remembered hearing somewhere that smaller rooms would keep the heat better.
He piled the blankets on top of him, making sure Wilbur’s blanket was the one directly on top of him. He burrowed deeper under the pile, only feeling mildly warmer.
Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.
He woke up to the wind howling outside his window. He sat up slowly, noticing the way his breath puffed out in front of him with every exhale. That meant it was much colder now than it had been earlier.
He also noticed how cold he was, despite being underneath a huge pile of blankets. That wasn’t a good sign at all.
He heard his stomach growl and abruptly remembered how he hadn’t eaten anything yet that day. He got out from the blankets, quickly grabbing Wilbur’s to wrap around his shoulders, transforming into a sort of human-burrito. He swung his feet around on the bed before tentatively placing them on the floor, recoiling at just how frigid it was.
He went carefully, slowly rolling his feet from his heels to his toes to try to get them used to the freezing floorboards.
He crept along the hallway hating how still the cold made the house feel. It felt lonely and abandoned, as if the occupants hadn’t lived there in many years.
He got about halfway through the hallway before he realized that there was no power to cook anything. He decided that eating uncooked food probably wouldn’t help his situation, so he went back to his nest of blankets, abandoning the idea of eating anything for now.
The pile of blankets had gone cold without him there to generate any heat.
Regardless, he crawled back into it and fell asleep once more.
He dreamt of exploring a cave deep beneath the snow biome. He was armed with nothing but a stray icicle that had nearly fallen on top of him. It was so incredibly cold, the cave was painted in an icy, stiff blue, that seemed to pulse with every breath he took. It was almost like the cave was stealing his lifeforce for its own. There were hot tear tracks making their way down his cheeks, he made sure to put his focus on them since they were the only source of heat he had. He kept going forward. He didn’t know what was ahead, only that he needed to keep going.
It didn’t take long before he had curled into himself on the floor of the cave. He had his arms curled up against his chest in a pathetic attempt to stay warm.
With every breath he released, he felt his life draining out of him. He heard the wind blowing down the hallway, laughing tauntingly at him. It made its way down the cave towards him, swirling around him, bringing a dusting of flurries with it. The tear tracks had long since frozen over, leaving the skin tight and sticky.
He finally closed his eyes as he released his last breath.
When he woke up next, it was to pounding on the door. He groggily opened his eyes, letting them wander around the room.
Whoever was at the door had stopped banging on it. Good, they were about to give him a headache.
He heard the door open and a gust of wind blow through the house.
“Tommy, where are you?” Wilbur called from the front door.
Oh, so that was who had been at the door.
“Tommy,” Wilbur called as he went through the house, opening all the doors looking for him.
Tommy thought about yelling out for Wilbur but that was too much energy, besides, he would definitely open Tommy’s door, it wasn’t like he was hiding.
Eventually, he did indeed open his door.
“Tommy, I’ve been calling for you, and I was banging on the door earlier, don’t tell me you didn’t he-oh,” Wilbur said, his annoyed expression melting into a concerned one as soon as he saw Tommy buried under all the blankets.
“How are you feeling Tommy,” he asked gently, noting the look in Tommy’s eyes. It was a slightly glazed-over look that told Wilbur he was vulnerable right now.
“Cold,” Tommy said in a small voice.
“Yeah, I bet buddy, could you not start a fire?” he asked softly.
“The logs were damp,” Tommy said nervously looking away from Wilbur’s eyes, as if he was going to be blamed for it.
“Oh bud, you must be freezing,” Wilbur breathed his heart twisting in sympathy. He made his way across the room and shucked off his coat and hat, before he carefully crawled into the blanket-nest with Tommy. He curled protectively around the younger boy to warm him up. It didn’t escape his notice how Tommy had his green blankest held tightly against his chest. His heart melted at the sight of his brother looking so soft and trusting, clutching his comfort blanket against him.
He felt happy tears gather in the corner of his eyes as he enveloped Tommy in a warm, gentle hug.
It didn’t take very long for Tommy to fall asleep against him. Wilbur waited a bit longer, before he carefully got out from the nest and went to get the fire going, as well as heat up the rabbit stew Niki had gifted him before he left her house that morning.
It had taken him the entire morning and the better part of the afternoon to get from the village to their home. The storm hadn’t let up whatsoever, but he needed to come home for Tommy.
He was so glad he hadn’t stayed like Niki had insisted, any longer and he was sure that Tommy would’ve developed hypothermia.
Once he got the stew over the stove and the fire going he went back and carefully picked Tommy up and brought him to the couch, setting him gently on it. He left most of the blankets back on his bed, but made sure to grab the green one.
He wrapped it tightly around Tommy’s shoulder as he took a seat on the couch and put Tommy’s head in his lap.
He ran his fingers gently through his hair, carefully untangling the blond curls. He cooed softly at the way that Tommy subconsciously leaned into the touch. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, with Tommy snoring softly on his lap, but it could’ve been hours and Wilbur wouldn’t have minded. Once in a while, the younger would make small noises, evidence of the dreams he was having. Wilbur’s heart melted each time, something about the blonde just made him feel so incredibly soft.
When Tommy woke up hours later, Wilbur helped him sit up and handed him a bowl of warm stew.
When Techno and Phil came home later that night they ‘aww-ed’ at the sight of Tommy and Wilbur asleep on the couch, and how Wilbur’s arms were wrapped protectively around his little brother, keeping him warm and protected against the icy winds of the storm.