Work Text:
It’s only been a couple hours since the platonic Love or Host, and Wilbur had just wished Tommy a good night. Immediately after the event ended, the two of them had hopped into a call together and played an hour or so of Terraria, just calming each other down from the social interaction, listening to the same Spotify playlist and silently enjoying each other’s presence.
He thinks about it, these types of calls had started being a habit when Tommy had a lot of editing for college due, and usually Tubbo would be streaming, and his little brother didn’t want to bother his friend. He did need someone to bounce ideas off of, though, and Wilbur was happy to help him; considering his years of editing experience and creating a whole entire character based around it.
After Tommy had finished his work, the calls stayed, so usually almost every night he is either sat at his PC or laying in bed and having calm conversations with his best friend. They both ignored how nice it was, or at least the idea that it was something that they both wanted so achingly bad. They try to hold out hope for when Tommy moves to Brighton that the calls will turn to hangouts or sleepovers, where they can watch movies and listen to music in person, without the finicky Discord call quality. To them it was an intoxicating idea, being in the same room again, because when they had seen each other before they were both just a ball of nerves. They were so worried about if the other would hate them after it, anxieties becoming so present as they realized how much they meant to each other.
When that day had ended, they had held each other in a hug so tight it was hard to breathe. Tommy had refrained from asking about staying the night with Fundy and Niki, but he had wanted to, because he didn’t want to leave Wilbur ever again. His brother reciprocated that feeling, the need to be close to each other, to see each other and to wrap each other in the warmth and feeling of home. They just never mentioned it when they departed, or after for that matter. Nobody even seemed to notice the sudden inexplicable closeness that seemed to follow the two, and that it was now that they were seemingly inseparable. Where one went, the other seemed to follow, or they would be together talking away, getting completely enthralled into their own world.
Sometimes they would annoy everyone in Wilbur’s personal discord server with music listening sessions that went on for hours upon hours, the poor bot dealing with link upon link in queues of hundreds of songs. It had become normal to see them speak for hours upon hours, having inside jokes that seemed to further tie them together, and to just automatically assume that if you are looking for one of the duo that they are sitting in call together.
It’s where him and Tommy had been only minutes before, his brother yawning through mining and collecting ores, his eyes drooping every few minutes. Wilbur thought it was adorable, Tommy looking like a disgruntled kitten with squinted eyes and a small whine every so often when Wilbur mentions going to bed. He finally was able to convince Tommy to rest when he called him “Wilmbur” with complete sincerity, and then next thing he knew the boy was whispering his well wishes for the night, and Wilbur chuckled at him and told him they’ll speak in the morning. His brother just gave him a tired grin, his eyes closed and slightly crinkled, and Wilbur just smiled at his loopy Tommy.
Wilbur was still sat at his PC, trying to ignore the aching that takes over his chest when they’re apart. He also had a dopey looking smile on his face, one usually present after speaking to his little brother late into the night, satisfied with himself for taking time to talk to his favorite person. Sometimes it was still hard to get out of bed, to stop his brain from overworking itself in worry about everything wrong with him, with his house, with his Tommy, but he made it worth it. His best friend made getting up feel easier, feel like he could actually deal with it every day. If he has Tommy, he’ll always have a reason to get out of the bed in the morning, and someone to ease him into existence instead of throwing it into his face.
It’s what made Wilbur so fond of the quieter times, when he got to talk to the brains behind the TommyInnit persona, just Tommy, Tom, Thomas. They come early in the morning and late in the day, and sometimes Wilbur hears Tommy do online classes or his video editing and just lays and bed and just breathes; they come even later in the night as well, when Tommy is tired from socialization, but refills his social battery by tiredly telling Wilbur about his day, or asking him about music, or taking his dog for a walk with one hand on the leash and the other on his phone as he speaks into his AirPods. Wilbur adores those times, longs for them, and enjoys them whole-heartedly, because it makes him feel like he knows Tommy. This isn’t just a skin-deep friendship that he shares with some other content creators, this is real, this is permanent.
He likes knowing every part of his brother, from his loud and crude nature on stream to his quiet and calm humming off-stream. It was odd as well, knowing someone that he could notice when something said in chat or on Twitter affected him, and he knows Tommy knows him the same way, he’s always sent him little messages after streams asking him if he’s alright, if he needs to talk, he’s there, even after they met that night Wilbur had gone to bed with Tommy’s final message for the day playing in his head, “I’ll see you soon, big brother.” They never even really talked about it either, that shift from just friends to family, and it had festered still underneath his skin as he watches Tommy’s following grow, surpassing him and a lot of their friends. He always made sure that he told Tommy he was proud, even if his brother was streaming at the time, and a weird feeling bubbled in his stomach when he heard Tommy mention that he always reads and answers his messages, even live on stream and swathed in the roleplay.
Wilbur doesn’t know when he realized that he would let himself burn to death in the heat pit that is the sun to make sure that TommyInnit would smile another day, would laugh for the rest of his life. He would become a martyr, would drown himself in vats of boiling acid to make sure that his little brother was to remain on the earth. It was a terrifying feeling.
There wasn’t any way Wilbur would be able to tell him this, to say those words to him without them both crying, and wishing so desperately that they could be together to have that conversation. So, really the idea only hits him after the lockdown breaks.
Finally, he can have his brother over in good conscious that he won’t get sick from Matt or David, and he couldn’t wait. He spent the week leading up to it fussing over the house, cleaning and dusting, and doing multitudes of errands that they usually leave until Sunday. He wanted it to be perfect, to make sure his brother has a good time staying over, in hopes that it becomes another habit that they pick up together. David had started making fun of him every time he saw Wilbur pacing the living room, worried out of his mind about negative possibilities. The day that Tommy was taking the train down was one of the most nerve-wracking of his life, he wore down circles on that train station tile as he checked his phone like it was his lifeline, clicking the power button every few seconds to look for Tommy’s arrival text.
When he eventually gets it, his heart starts beating and he tells him which exit he is located nearby, and then he waits. It’s slightly terrifying at the idea of his brother to be walking through the train station alone, surrounded by crowds of people, until he hears a loud shout of “Wilba!” from a few feet away and he is taken from his stupor to see his little brother, backpack clad with a surgical mask covering his face; nose to chin. Wilbur can feel the smile grow on his face at the sight of his brother, and he pulls him into a hug, holding him as close to him as possible. Their hug is probably longer than it should’ve been, and Wilbur definitely tried to hide the peck he left on Tommy’s forehead, but it doesn’t really matter to them, or to Wilbur, because the only person whose opinion he needed to care about was in his arms.
They spent the rest of the weekend around town, messing with the arcade, joking around on the beach by sending Phil pictures of then holding handfuls of sand to their mouths, and watching a lot of movies with his roommates. It was what they both had wished for, for so long, as they could spent time together, sharing half hugs and hair ruffles and playful squabbles in the street. The time hadn’t come unto it’s head until right now, where Wilbur is sat on his bed, Tommy leaning against him and sleeping. His brother goes home later in the day, considering it’s quite early in the morning, but Wilbur is dreading his departure. His brother brings so much brightness in the house, with his laugh and jokes, and just- everything about him made Wilbur’s world brighten.
If Wilbur was in a joking mood, he would say that Tommy was like his pocket-sized sunshine, but he wasn’t. He was trying to ignore the more negative feelings starting to build in the pit of his stomach as he looks down on the snoozing face of his brother, blond hair splayed in many directions and his cheek squished against Wilbur’s torso. He doesn’t want him to go, because he can feel the deep pull between him and Tommy, and he knows that life won’t be the same after he knows what it’s like again to have Tommy with him, longer than a few hours on a throwaway weekend. He can already feel the numb that will fill his day-to-day after Tommy is back at his house (because really is it his home?), and he wishes for it to go away.
His mind still lingers on his feelings, what he knows of the things that bloom in his chest when Tommy calls him brother, of the way he would give up everything for Tommy, and he knows he needs to tell his brother somehow, to just- to get out all of those emotions before they rip him up from the inside out. He brainstorms for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do, looking around his room and trying to see how he could get it across, and then, he sees the letter Tommy had sent as a school assignment. Wilbur had taped it above his desk, so that if he was having a shitty day with anxiety so harsh only the tiniest thing would set it off, he could look at it and remember that one person still has his corner no matter what. That’s what he needs to do, that’s what he joked to Tommy he would write, and maybe he should.
Wilbur slowly unhooks his arm off of Tommy’s shoulder, cooing quietly at the whine Tommy releases at the loss of contact, probably trying to seek more warmth since they are sitting on the bed and not in the bed. He quickly grabs a piece of paper, a hardback book, and a pen before returning to the bed, slipping back where he was and tucking Tommy underneath his arm once again. Tommy just releases a content sigh and curls up against him, and Wilbur just smiles down at him.
He returns his attention to the paper and starts,
Tommy,
I told you I would write a book of what you’ve done for me, but right now I don’t exactly have the time, but I wanted- no, I neededto tell you how much you mean to me. I probably won’t be as articulate as you were, because Toms it’s about three am and you’re tucked into my side and I would rather not try to deal with any semblance of cognitive stimulation. I just want to be here, with you, because I know I’ve been bad about telling you, but you, Tommy “Danger Kraken” Innit, are my favourite person in the whole world. This isn’t a bit, or trying to farm awws, Tommy, you are my best friend, and you always have been.
There is no limit to how proud I am of you, Tommy, and I’m so happy to have been there to help you, and cheer you on, because as I’ve said before: you are an absolute legend and you deserve all of the support you are given. You are hilarious, and so self-aware and intelligent, and there is literally no one else I would rather play Terraria with, who I would rather spend five hours listening to music with, because you’re it. You’re my best friend, and I’m no longer ashamed of that, because you know there is always this inherent shame in being friends with someone younger than you, but I would rather die before letting anything bad happen to you.
I don’t think some people understand that, but I need to make you understand it, Tommy.
I do love you, more than I have let on, but I do, you are seriously my little brother in every sense, and I would literally catapult myself into the sun if you asked. If you asked for the moon, I would somehow find a way to steal it and give it to you. I love you so much that it hurts when we aren’t together, and from what you said in your letter you feel the same, and what you confirmed when I was with you last, and bub, you moving to Brighton can’t come any faster, can it? I have a feeling when you do, you’ll probably be here every day, and is it bad that I long for that?
Maybe you feel the same, but Tommy, if I could have you here every day I would. I’d like to bring you to band rehearsals and to chippies near the pier and catch crabs with you at dusk. I want to do so many things with you, and show you so many things, and introduce you to so many people, seriously my bandmates would love you. Maybe you’d meet Mother Soot as well, because I’m sure you two would find ways to ruin my life (in a good way).
There are so many things I want to do with you, Tommy, and I hope you want to do every one of them with me, and it’s fine if you don’t, I won’t force you, okay?
You, Thomas Innit, mean the world to me as well, and I don’t even know if you understand the words on this page anymore because I am sure the clock has hit quarter to four and I’m getting tired. I love you, Tommy. You’re my little brother, and I hope that I can treat you like one.
Love,
Wilbur
He folds the paper and slides into Tommy’s backpack, which is leaning against his nightstand, and he hopes that the kid doesn’t see it tomorrow or he’d definitely cry if he was confronted with it in person. Wilbur just hopes for the best, turning off the lamp and turning to face Tommy, and he holds the boy close, ignoring the content hum he hears from the boy, and buries his face in the mop of curls. “Goodnight, sunshine,” he whispers, letting sleep finally take him from consciousness.