Work Text:
It wasn’t common for the anarchists in the tundra biome to experience blizzards, sure they often got heavy snowfall but nothing this strong. It had forced Phil to escape into his newly built home for a little while.
The ageless man sat by his fireplace, letting the heat take over his body as he watched the food slowly cook. The tundra was a comforting place, it made the constant, persisting feeling in his chest feel like a side effect of the cold and not trauma chewing him out from the inside. Out here he could push away all the thoughts by working. The bee farm, the nether wart farm, his home, the syndicate...
The fence.
Phil ran his thumb over his knuckles which were rough from the constant work and extreme cold. He wasn’t sure if he liked the numbness it all brought him or despised it, because, in reality, he was all alone, he knew this. When you live for so long you see the people you love slowly lose who they once were and then die. He had seen this over and over to a point where death was nothing but an acquaintance he saw far too often but never once would visit him.
The male stood up eventually, his battered wings limped from his back. At some point, he realized that even if he threw himself into lava, he’d still be so.. so cold. He placed his hat on the counter as he looked outside at the white snow, he had to tear his eyes away from the blinding white as he took out food from the furnace.
Snow was fragile, innocent, pure. But he was an immortal father who had no son and a pathetic excuse for wings that no longer took him off the floor. Maybe once he was like snow but the litter of ageless scars over his body showed otherwise.
Will was like snow once.
His own thought hit him like a brick, he felt his own body tense up. Phil looked up to stop the threatening tears seeping from his eyes. The grief was threatening to swallow him up but there was no time for that. He grabbed two plates of food quickly before rushing out of his little home.
He used his wings to cover himself from the heaving blizzard, it looked cold but he sure couldn’t feel it. Without another thought, he let himself into Techno’s home. Steve was pleased to see him, letting a small huff as he buried his head into the man’s chest, it drew a small smile on Phil’s worn face as he placed one of the plates on the floor, Steve was more than delighted to his dinner of cod as Phil robotically climbed up to the attic.
Techno’s room was dim, he could see his figure fully bundled up in his bed with blankets and even his own thick cloak. He placed the food down on a little side table he had brought up with a chair. Sure he was hibernating but he didn’t want Techno to starve.
He sat in the chair, letting the silence envelop him, Techno’s presence made it warm, he listened to the anarchist’s breathing, to the snow hitting the window, to Steve’s huffing downstairs. Such a peaceful, quiet scene, something that should be comforting and the perfect recipe for a breakdown.
Phil couldn’t stop the chuckle that slipped through his lips. He was laughing . He was laughing because he failed his only son. He was laughing because Ghostbur was his son but he wasn’t Wilbur, Wilbur was long gone before Phil had even killed him. He was laughing because he had been hurt by the country his own son built, something Will would have never allowed to happen and he was laughing because Ghostbur screamed at him for destroying l’manburg.. Screamed at him that friend died, but he didn’t remember it all; he didn’t understand why, why he had to destroy the country that once perhaps held hope now left everyone with a bitter taste in their mouth when they spoke it’s name. He didn’t understand that his death was the only death that he has mourned in centuries.
Phil was laughing.
And then he was crying.
He buried his head deep into his hands as thick, uncontrolled sobs escaped his mouth. The ageless man broke, so much emotion and feelings were bottled up for so long. Sure helping fully destroy L’manburg was therapeutic and he’d never regret doing it, it could only help him feel better for so long. Soon the sounds of withers wailing, people screaming and explosions going off faded and left him broken once again.
Phil didn’t react to the shuffle he heard beside him, nor did he react to the warm figure wrapping his arms around him. Pulling him into a comforting hug that Phil needed.
There were no words shared. There didn’t need any to be, they understood each other and would be there for each other no matter what. Simply because their friendship didn’t rely on secrets, favors, or goals, they didn’t need to worry about their bond snapping over a disagreement.
Phil wasn’t pure like snow, nor was Techno and.. that was okay.