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In a faraway land, in a faraway universe, eons ago, there were two brothers. Both tall; one with pink hair in a messily tied braid, the other with a curly mop of brown hair. They used to sit next to this willow tree, perched on the highest hill in town to watch the sunrise. Sometimes they would watch the sun wake up in silence - but the silence was never awkward. It was comfortable, filled with unspoken words and feelings, cultivated through years of brothership and love. Sometimes, they would look desperately at the skyline, hoping to see a peek of obsidian feathers flying towards them. It never happened. Sometimes, they would sing and play tunes. Dressed in his favourite yellow sweater, the brown-haired man would hum a short and sweet lullaby, paired with the simple strums of his guitar. The pink-haired, wrapped in his red cape, would play his violin in harmony with the tune.
Sometimes they would cry. Sometimes, they would laugh. Sometimes, a woman with apple-red hair and a little child with the sweetest laugh will come with them. All four would chat and admire the coloured strokes of the morning sky, starting the day with laughter.
But always, without fail, the brothers would bring a yellow rose and perch it against the slab of the stone that sat on top of the hill.
There were two brothers, eons ago, sitting next to a grave covered in yellow roses. There were two brothers, but before that, there were three. Even before that, there was a family.
Wilbur has had an ache in his chest for as long as he can remember. It first stung when his mother got sick and when his father left, it felt as if his heart was broken and only held together with a fragile web. The web finally collapsed completely when Tommy died. And over the years, it had regrown and instead, became a persisting and annoying dull ache. It still stung whenever he hears the fluttering of wings behind each window, or eyes the ripped uniform hid deep, deep in the bedroom closet. However, the stinging is a reminder that the heart is still there and that Wilbur is alive. He had made it, against all odds.
Wilbur has never considered himself someone to be afraid of dying. Yet now, with the taste of loss and grief watered down over the years but still ever so present, he was scared. He was downright terrified. Wilbur hadn’t always been lucky, but he is fortunate enough to have what he dares call a family. His beloved, talented little Fundy; his bubbly yet calming Sally.
It is always when you have too much to lose when death rears its ugly head. Against his will, an image of blue eyes, blonde curls, a boy that will never live past the age of fifteen, flashed in his mind and then faded away.
It is one of those nights when Wilbur prays and hopes and begs for the fear of death to fade, praying please god let him have this for a bit longer, that he finds himself in front of Techno’s room. With one of his hand tightly gripping a random book from his desk, Wilbur pushed it open. Techno would usually complain about him coming in without knocking, but Wilbur never listened anyway. However, Techno didn’t utter a peep tonight. Instead, taking one look at whatever Wilbur’s face was doing, Techno lifted one side of his blanket in a silent welcoming.
Wilbur slid onto the bed, huddled against Techno’s side. He flipped his book onto a random page and started reading from there.
It was warm. The bed was warm and so was his brother but he was so cold and afraid.
Unwillingly, Wilbur started to cry, his vision blurring.
“I’m scared,” he choked out, Techno softly hushed him.
A wall away, Sally and Fundy slept - unknowing of the deep chasm that was starting to overflow from Wilbur’s heart. He loved them so much, he did. They gave him a new meaning to family, that it didn’t mean being alone and lost again and again - they were permanent and so much more real than the glimpses of obsidian feathers and blue eyes in his dreams.
Wilbur thinks that he was lucky enough to have his second chance to love. He loved them with all his heart, but there was and always will be an irreplaceable sense of security when he was with Techno.
“I’m scared that one day I will die and leave you guys all by yourselves,” he confessed, choking on his words.
His last brother. His immortal turned mortal brother. Wilbur had spent essentially his entire life with Techno, but it wasn’t enough. Time was never enough when life was short but his love for his family was so big. While family may have always been a broken constant in Wilbur’s life, death and guilt and loss have been as permanent as the air he breathes and the water he drinks.
“Don’t be stupid,” Techno reprimanded, his face expressionless under the moonlight.
Techno’s hair was now a mix of pink and grey, Wilbur thought wistfully, one of his hands stroking the pink long strands. Techno had aged, and his rough edges had been chipped away slowly but surely. Wilbur sees it in the soft smiles Techno gives to Fundy, to the village children, to Sally, to Wilbur. He’s glad that Techno had learned to live, to love, to cherish and to let go.
“Plus, you aren’t going to die yet. You’re a stubborn old man.”
Wilbur has aged too. Shamefully, it brings him guilt that his younger brother would never have had the opportunity to age like he had. Tommy would have loved to have called him an old man with his wrinkles and greying hair. He knew Tommy will forgive him, but his stupid brother was always too selfless for his own good.
Somedays, when the world feels too heavy and damp for Wilbur to get out of bed, he would hear the faintest sounds of scratchy laughter and the flapping of wings. He would hear the soothing voice of a woman saying
“I’m always with you.”
And when Techno replies that night, “You’ll be stuck with me for a few more years, you bastard,” Wilbur can’t help but think they mean the same thing.
When tomorrow morning comes and Fundy blasts through the doors to greet him with a mischievous smile, when Sally’s laughter in the morning shines as vibrant as the ripest apples, his heart stings a little less. He can’t help but hope Tommy will forgive Wilbur if he takes a bit longer to join him.
Techno takes the book from his sleeping brother’s limp hand and closes it.
When Techno was immortal, he lived with the fact that one day he would watch Wilbur and Tommy die and fade away, like the petals of a forget-me-not that could only live for so long. When Techno became mortal with one brother dead, he had hoped that at least, please god at least, that he wouldn’t have to watch both of his brothers die and fade away.
Except, that was a problem for the future and he hopes desperately that luck will be on his side for once.
But now, Techno was enjoying the soothing motion of the waves with Fundy beside him at the docks. Wilbur and Sally had headed towards the cramped marketplace to buy Fundy a cake for his sixteenth birthday. Techno had wrinkled his nose at the clustered area before being forcefully dragged to the harbourside by his nephew.
He couldn’t help but appreciate the calming blue of the sea - a lighter blue compared to his sapphire earrings, but darker than the dyed tunic Fundy wore today.
His nephew has grown, Techno mused, staring at the boy’s curls that fluttered against the wind. Fundy’s blonde hair reminded him so much of Tommy, but his love for his nephew had been honest since the day he was born. Fundy was his own person; his laugh, his adoration for the little foxes in the tundra in the next town, his glittering chestnut brown eyes. It made Techno, dare he say it, soft.
“Uncle,” the young teen next to him breathed out. Techno replied in a noncommittal hum.
“Do you ever regret it, losing your,” he stumbled slightly, “your immortality?”
Techno was a selfish person, that was a fact. The question wasn’t unfamiliar; he had pondered the very same wonders on the nights he overlooks the forests and terrains and thinks of the what-ifs.
“Why do you ask?” Techno questioned, a little thrown off-guard at the question.
“It’s just that there are so many things I want to do and it feels like I have so little time,” Fundy whispered like it was a forbidden secret to thirst for adventures.
Techno understood though, of course, he did. He recognised that yearning for more, for the unknown, for exploration. He has seen the same desire so often in himself. When Techno is was the immortal blood god who many deemed as invincible, there were little joys in life but to explore the enchanting dark oak forests or the deepest buried dungeons. Techno wanted nothing but his nephew to be happy, and if that means one day, his little fox will leave to go on adventures of his own, Techno will let it. In the meantime, all he can do is to train him, to prep him, to teach him to hunt and use resources wisely. If Techno couldn’t keep him safe in the future, this is all he could do.
“Being human teaches you to use your time wisely and to cherish it.” It was a lesson Techno had realised too late, but he will be damned if he wouldn’t prevent Fundy from falling into the same pit.
“I quite like the retirement life. I get to spend all of my time with my favourite nephew.” Techno replied, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards expectedly at Fundy’s yell.
“I’m your only nephew!’ Fundy yelped, his light blush and grin betraying any false anger he threw at Techno. Techno roughly ruffled his hair, as Fundy fought back vehemently in joking irritation. Techno thinks the only downside to mortality is that he doesn’t have enough time to love as much as he wanted.
“Even if I”, Techno thought to himself hesitantly. Fundy had walked forward, his hands dipping into the cold water as the red scales of salmon dashed in between his fingers.
“Even if I am not immortal anymore, I will love you forever. And so will your dad, and your mother. We will love you forever,” Techno reflected, as he turned to Fundy, whose eyes hungrily scoured the vast edges of the sea.
He really was going soft. It was all Wilbur’s fault, that dickhead.
He can’t help but imagine another world like this. A world where perhaps Wilbur will be trying to throw Tommy down the harbour, while Phil laughs uncontrollably and shows Fundy the hidden gems of the market? Perhaps Tommy would live past fifteen, and Wilbur wouldn’t look at his necklace with that dazed, wistful look. Perhaps in that world, Techno would have kept his emerald earring.
Techno had never needed to track time before. When the blood god couldn’t die, all the days blurred as one. Now, he cherished each sunset and each sunrise, each grey hair and wrinkle. Time never stops for anyone, and Techno knew that. It doesn’t seem to be such a bad thing anymore, to have a mortal heart.
Techno breathes and can’t help but adore the silence and the steady beat of his heart.
Time was weird in the void. Is this what death feels like?
Time was weird in the void, and it did funny things to Phil’s memory.
How long had Phil spent away from Wilbur before they met again during the war? Nine years, ten months, and how many days? Five days? Was it actually ten months, or was it eleven? What had Wil’s curls felt like underneath his fingers? What did Techno’s monotone mumbles sound like? What did Tommy’s smile look like?
How long has Phil been away from Wilbur and Techno now?
Phil recalls his time in darkness in brief flashes. Flashes of blonde hair, green clothing, white mask, and then eternal darkness and silence. Sometimes when Phil blinks his eyes, there was light for a brief second. It looked like a field of flowers underneath the Summer sky - open and warm but so foreign. He blinked again and then it was gone. It was just him, the Green God and the void.
It was lonely in a place with no sense of time. Even if it feels him with grief and shame, Phil couldn’t help but turn to Tommy in his darkest moments. He wonders if the afterlife was as dark as here, and he hopes not.
Phil had forgotten the words of his sunshine boy, his youngest son stolen from him too soon under the hands of a battered spider. But today, he remembers. It didn’t feel the world had shifted with the great revelation, no, but it had shaken Phil to the core anyways when Tommy’s voice came to him. He remembers a hug so warm and so sweet, the voice of his Tommy echoing with love and pride.
“Tell me what you are,” the darkness whispered tonight, like every other night.
“God of death”, Phil murmured back every other day.
Today, he says,
“The god of freedom.”
He wanted to see his family, Phil thought with glaring clarity. When was the last time a thought had gone through so clearly without hesitation and fear? He wanted to see Wilbur and Techno and whatever they had gotten up to. Did they marry, have children, did they move away? Are they still alive?
Phil missed them so much it felt like his heart was caving in and melting into the eternal abyss around him. If it meant bending the webs of fate to his will to see them again, he would. If he had controlled darkness once, why can’t he do it again? Rules of the universe be damned.
The Green God does not know where he is. They have not seen each other in the void for a long time.
And after all, what is there to fear? Are birds not natural predators to spiders?
Phil didn’t know which direction to head towards, but he flew anyways. His wings weighed with exertion but Phil carried on, grasping for the corners of the void. One moment it was dark, and the next, there were stars. If he strained hard enough to hear, Phil could almost hear a gate opening and closing, with the desperate screams of a man left behind.
Luck was never on his side, Phil knew this. He knew this when the love of his life died, and when he had to abandon his kingdom, his sons, for a reason that was huge but seemed so insignificant now. He knew luck was never on his side when he watched his youngest son, his precious Tommy, take his last breath. He knew luck was never on his side when he flew into the void, the cries of Techno and Wilbur behind him as he carried Dream into darkness.
He knew luck was never on his side, as he flew through the night sky until he found himself kneeling onto the grassy plain on top of a familiar hill. His fingers gently caressed the slab of stone, his vision blurring with the onslaught of tears until it was a yellow haze. Were there two more slabs behind the willow tree? Phil couldn’t see. He couldn’t see anything but the blur of yellow rose bushes and the dawn sky.
Behind him, he heard two voices going up the hill. He couldn’t tell who they were, the soft crunch crunch of footsteps over dried leaves had broken the lonely silence. If Phil focused hard enough, it seemed to sound like the soft murmurs of a woman and a younger man. Or was it the melodious voice of a beloved son laughing at the monotonous jokes of a dear friend? As much as he was immortal, the time in the void had aged him in ways he didn’t think were possible - he couldn’t recognise, nor remember the voices of his loved ones very well anymore.
“Without requisite or deadline, I will love you” a golden boy had said.
Luck was never on Phil’s side before, but he hoped so desperately that for once in his long, long life, that fate will give him pity. That he would finally get more time with his family.
It is ironic, isn’t it?
For an immortal god to pray for more time. Phil had grown to fear hope - for it was such a fragile and unpredictable thing.
Yet, he turned around and hoped that this time, it was a hello rather than a goodbye.
Tommy opened his eyes. He didn’t know when he decided that closing them was a good idea when he stood in the middle of a fucking store.
“ -ommy, Tommy!”
Tommy whirled around to face Wilbur, who was chomping on an apple as he leaned against the store entrance. He smiled sheepishly at the playful glare directed at him.
“Sorry Wil, I zoned out a bit just then.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes, as he strolled inside and stood next to Tommy. The bell above the door chimed with a pleasant thrum. Wilbur’s pale sweater complemented the soft aesthetic of the florist well, the light blue walls bouncing off the lenses of Wilbur’s glasses. A comforting hand sat on top of Tommy’s head, as it brushed his blonde curls in a repetitive motion. Wilbur’s other hand tipped the apple core into a nearby trash can.
“You absolute gremlin, have you decided which one to get Techno? He is about to arrive soon enough if you keep staring into space!” exclaimed Wilbur in an exasperated, yet fond tone.
Tommy glanced to the side, eyeing Wilbur’s soft smile whose eyes roamed across the displays. Bouquets of yellow alstroemerias, white daisies, purple malvas, and freesias decorated the walls, as the lonely shopkeeper stared at them periodically from the countertop. It would suit Techno, he thought, all of these delicate flowers - especially with his outrageous pink hair. His hands twitched at his side; he could make a nice flower crown, or perhaps interweave them into Techno’s hair as a braid? That will be nice.
It was no use dwelling on all of the flowers though since Tommy had made up his mind already. He had sent a photo to Tubbo a few minutes ago, who replied with thumbs up in agreement. Tommy’s fingers caressed the petals in front of him while Wilbur’s eyes followed the motion.
“This one, huh?” he questioned, a gentle smirk gracing his face.
“Yeah,” Tommy breathed out.
A bouquet of yellow roses.
He liked these - they were soft and reminded him of Techno and his yellow, beloved crown. It reminded him of Wilbur’s yellow sweater he loved so much, and Phil’s blonde hair, like Tommy’s. It was a happy colour for a happy day. He had been so excited for the sleepy boys’ meetup for the past few days, especially at his sleepover at Tubbo’s place last night. Tubbo had used a pillow to muffle his excited yells at night and then had to physically shake Tommy awake this morning after finally falling asleep at an ungodly hour. God bless Tubbo.
Wilbur slung an arm over Tommy’s shoulder, leaning almost all of his body onto him. Tommy grunted at the sudden weight and screeched softly in disgruntlement.
“I like it,” Tommy declared proudly.
“Good choice,” Wilbur nodded in approval.
“Now let’s go, Phil is waiting for our grand return!” Wilbur snatched the bunch and strode to the counter. Cursing his long legs, Tommy hurried up behind him.
So now, they stood at the terminal exit; him, Wilbur and Phil. Phil had taken one look at the flowers and gave him a beaming smile in approval. It made Tommy happy. Eagerly searching around for a mop of pink hair, Phil grumbled on his left as he struggled to see over the top of people’s heads. Wilbur let out a small giggle, as Tommy cackled beside him, before exclaiming,
“There! There he is! Techno, Technoblade!”
And sure enough, a man with flowing pink hair and a large suitcase in tow came through the entrance. Twitching at the exclamation of his name, he turned around and glanced at the crowd at three men jumping up and down in excitement. Letting out an embarrassed chuckle, Techno wearily walked towards them before being crushed in a tight hug.
“Hello Wilbur,” he said begrudgingly, settling into the warm hug. Tommy stood where he was, as Techno made eye contact with him before Phil similarly ran and joined in the cluster of long limbs. Techno let out another groan, but Tommy could see his smile from here, giving away his joy as he tried to playfully push the two away. Without thinking it through, Tommy also ran into the huddle as all three of them grunted in displeasure at the snugness. Tommy didn’t care though. He was so, so content surrounded in the arms of his friends.
“Techno, Techno!” Tommy yelled excitedly, thrusting the bouquet into Techno’s hands after they finally separated from the hug. Techno lifted a brow in response, glancing at the soft clusters of yellow roses in Tommy’s hands.
“For you, a welcome gift! Phil said you should get people flowers when they come to visit, so I did! Well, technically Wil paid for these, but I picked them out myself!” Tommy rambled endlessly, a bit nervous at finally meeting his idol friend. The corners of Techno’s mouth quirked up ever so slightly in a teasing smirk.
“Is that so?” Techno replied in an amused tone, “and why yellow roses?”
Tommy glanced onto the side, a sight of shyness you wouldn’t commonly see in the bright-eyed and brash boy. A lump formed in his throat, and he didn’t know why.
“Well, yellow roses symbolise friendship, innit?” Tommy grumbled quietly, clearing his throat at his sudden hoarse voice.
Techno’s smirk smoothened into a gentle smile, squeezing Tommy’s shoulders in an unspoken thank you. Tommy could not meet his eyes and resolutely stared at the ground in front of him, as they walked leisurely behind Wilbur and Phil. Tommy glanced briefly to his side, noticing the subtle movements of Techno’s hands stroking the smooth petals of the roses. Tugging at a single rose so that it slid out of the wrapping, Tommy looked at Techno questioningly as he brushed the blonde’s curls and easily tucked the flower behind Tommy’s ear.
“Are we friends then, huh?” Techno said teasingly, admiring how the bright yellow contrasted against the soft flop of blonde hair.
Tommy shot him a look of mock indignation, and laughed loudly,
“Well, obviously!”
In front of them, Wilbur and Phil shouted at them to hurry up, as Tommy impatiently tugged at Techno’s hand to drag him towards them. Their laughs rang out like a sweet tune of a songbird in the air. Wilbur slung his arm comfortably across his shoulder, Tommy letting out a whine at Wil’s teasing. Tommy glimpsed to his side at Techno who let out occasional amused hums at Phil, who was giving a detailed recount of the horrible traffic they had encountered on the way here.
How lucky, Tommy thought, that he has these people in his life; how lucky that he had met them, and they loved him enough to be around him. Selfishly, he hopes that in his next life, his next, next life, and many more, that he will still be with them. He hopes that he will be with them for a long, long time.
Tommy closed his eyes; the familiar warmth of Wilbur, the soft voices of Phil and Techno’s conversation echoing around him, and dares to hope. Somewhere out there, the webs of fate start to mend.
Fate. Such a small word for such a big thing.