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“Will?”
“Yeah, Tommy?”
“Can you show me your scar?”
Tommy was four years old when he first asked. His words filled with childlike wonder and eyes filled with curiosity. The blonde barely knew what the word meant, having only remembered hearing Phil gently explain it to him when his brother went away to the hospital. The child was naturally worried after his father had told him that Wilbur had gotten hurt -poor wilby- but after a warm hug and the comforting promise that he would see his older brother the next day, he drifted off to sleep.
“My scar?” Wilbur clarified, with a raised eyebrow. The child nodded eagerly, blonde curls bouncing off his forehead. He watched with wide eyes as his older brother removed his shirt, revealing a long, white line stretching across his right shoulder.
“Wow..” Tommy breathed, jaw loose and an extra sparkle in his blue eyes.
What was once confusion had morphed into an amused smirk on Wilbur’s face as toddler fingers reached out and gently grazed along the rough patch of skin. “Cool, huh?”
“Yeah.” The blonde whispered, completely enamoured by the mark.
Tommy proceeded to brag about how cool his brother was for the next month. Not once did it fail to make Wilbur smile.
__________________________________________
“Techno! Techno! Give me your foot!” Tommy insisted the minute that he walked through the door.
“What?”
“Let me see!”
“No?”
“Ple-ease?”
“Why?”
“I wanna see your scar.”
Tommy was seven years old when he next asked.
A few days prior, the boy and his two older brothers had been play-fighting in the kitchen when a glass fell off the counter, shattering right beside Techno’s foot. At the time, Tommy had been too worried about cleaning up the glass shards and making sure his brother was okay -who surprisingly didn’t shed a single tear- to think about the potential scarring. However in a clearer, calmer headspace later on, it was all the boy could think about.
“My scar?” The pink haired boy repeated dumbly, the words not registered fully in his head. At first he hesitated, not understanding why it was so important - Wilbur has one too! But then he looked into his younger brother's eyes, filled with desperation, and he begrudgingly agreed. After all, anything to keep the kids happy, right? And judging by the wide, toothy smile that invaded his face as he removed his sock, it worked.
Just beneath the ankle was a thick, jagged line. It wasn’t anything special, just a pink, fleshy reminder of his immaturity that would forever mark his skin. But to Tommy, it was remarkable. The kid was fairly tall for his age and surprisingly mature in serious situations. However, at that moment, Technoblade felt like he was looking into the past. Staring at a reflection of his baby brother, in all his childlike innocence. Sure, he was still young -not even double digits- but the days went by quickly and it felt like his brother was growing twice as fast.
“Hey Tommy?”
“Mhm?”
“You can look at my scar anytime you want.”
__________________________________________
It was another late night.
The days have been overwhelming lately. The kids were constantly swamped with school work, barely having any time to themselves and missing more meals than they were consuming. And Phil had been coming home from work late every night for the past two weeks, with aching muscles and heavy under-eye bags. What was once a tight knit family had slowly started to unravel, time that was usually spent together now being used as extra time to catch up on sleep.
However tonight, Phil was determined to get everyone together for a meal. Sure, it was half eleven at night and most parents would be pushing their kids to bed, but you couldn’t blame him for grasping the first chance he could to get the family together. Even if the time was slightly inconvenient for a Wednesday.
The man quickly placed the take away pizza, that he collected on the way home, onto the table and called everyone down. For a moment, everything was silent, and Phil wondered if everyone had fallen asleep already. However his worries were squashed as the sound of stairs squeaking echoed through the house. Wilbur emerged first, rubbing away any sign of exhaustion as he smiled at his father, grateful to see him before he had fallen asleep.
Next came Techno, eyes heavy and usually neat hair tangled in an awkward ponytail, who immediately laid his face down at the dinner table and insisted that he needed to ‘rest his eyes for a few moments’.
Finally, after a few minutes of conversation, mostly consisting of Phil scolding Wilbur for talking with his mouth full, Tommy emerged. The boy didn’t look great at all, with eye bags worse than everyone else’s and clothes that seemed to fit slightly more loose than before. Though, Phil quickly diminished it as school stress, as it had obviously taken a toll on everyone recently. It probably didn’t help that Tommy was 14 and was currently preparing for gcse’s. Phil remembered how tense Wilbur and Techno had been when they were Tommy’s age.
“Hey Toms.” Phil greeted, a genuine smile gracing his face.
“Hey.” Wil said around a mouthful of pizza, earning a playful smack from his father.
“Hi.” Tommy sat down in his chair, slouching in his seat like usual. The poor boy’s posture was quite, to brutally put it, shit.
Everyone continued to eat in silence, despite Techno who had continued to ‘rest his eyes’ at the dinner table. Normally, Phil would be overjoyed to have silence in the house. With three teenage boys, quiet becomes a luxury. However the rest of the meal felt..odd? Ingenuine? Family dinners aren’t supposed to be like this with them, silently munching on their food and avoiding eye contact. It’s supposed to be loud and lively, with Tommy shouting half hearted insults in an attempt to make someone laugh at the absurdity. With Techno pointing a knife at someone, mumbling empty threats that everyone knows he wouldn’t go through with but his monotone voice scares them enough to not tempt fate. Or with Wilbur finding new ways to embarrass Tommy, whether it be with silly nicknames that he knows will make his baby brother blush, or with quick witted retorts that just teeter over the line of too far.
Everyone’s silence, no matter the circumstance or how tired they were, still made Phil’s gut churn with worry. But he knows that everyone will be right as rain soon..
..right?
He pushes the thought away, making room for conversation starters or anything that will get people to talk.
“I’ve got a scar.” The man said the first thing that comes to mind, something that he knows Tommy will be interested in. The blonde looks up, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.
“Where?”
“Right on my elbow from where my sister tripped me up when I was younger.” He mused out loud, reminiscing the memories from his childhood.
“Oh. Cool.” Tommy mumbles, extremely out of character. Phil really wanted to blame it on sleep deprivation.
“Now you’re the only one without a scar, Toms.” The eldest attempted a genuine smile despite his growing concern. The blonde stilled, moving his eyes down to the table in order to avoid any and all eye contact. He simply hummed in agreement.
Phil may be tired. His eyes may feel extremely heavy, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. And he may just be hung up on absolutely nothing. But he is definitely worried about his son.
Everyone trailed off to bed as soon as they decided they had eaten enough, leaving a few stray slices of pizza in the fridge for Techno to reheat when he wakes up in the morning.
When Phil got home from work earlier that day, with a pizza box in hand and car keys hanging threateningly loose in his pocket, he felt like he could have slept through a hurricane.
But after sitting down and enduring one of the most uncharacteristically quiet family dinners, he didn’t sleep at all that night.
__________________________________________
As it turns out, Phil isn’t the only one who noticed that something wasn’t right with Tommy.
It was Saturday the following week and things were starting to look up. Phil was able to ease the amount of work hours a week, meaning that he would arrive home earlier in the week days and was allowed weekends off, which he was very appreciative for. Techno and Wil had gotten through two of their major tests and passed exponentially, meaning their moods had been uplifted and they spent less time holed up in their bedrooms studying.
Everything was starting to look up. Except Tommy.
Where everyone else had started to improve and take better care of themselves, Tommy had been sleeping in more often, and Phil had started to receive more phone calls about Tommy’s school absence. It was concerning to say the least, but Phil had given him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he had been under alot of pressure lately and obviously needed some time off school.
However, despite having more days at home, it started to feel more and more like Tommy wasn’t even there. He didn’t arrive at meal times (Phil still left food in the fridge for him) and he barely left his bedroom.
The man tried to explain it away, using every excuse he could. But the boy’s behaviour wasn’t normal and he knew he couldn’t continue to ignore it. He still tried to though.
He wishes he hadn’t.
__________________________________________
“Tommy, mate, you know you can talk to me, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“You promise you would tell me if something was wrong?”
“Mhm.”
__________________________________________
“Toms?”
No answer.
“Toms?” Wil called into the dark bedroom, the only light leaking in from the hallway.The brunet walked towards the bed, carefully nudging his baby brother awake. “Toms?”
“Mhm?”
“Can I come sit with you? Please?” He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his brother's shoulder soothingly. Despite the blinding darkness of the room, he could still see his brother's golden hair shuffle in a nodding motion from under the duvet and he quickly climbed under there with him.
It was late at night, and Wilbur admittedly felt a little bad for waking up his brother in the middle of the night. However, for some unknown reason, he felt the need to be close to him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen him, truly seen him, in over a month. Maybe he just missed him. But as he wrapped his arms around his brother, pulling him into his chest in the darkness of his bedroom, he didn’t care why he was there. Because he was with his brother, and that’s all he wanted. Judging by the content sigh that escaped the blonde's mouth as he snuggled into his older brother’s embrace, he knew that Tommy wanted him there just as much.
A few minutes went by and the two just lay together in content silence, Tommy breathing in his brother's unique scent (sea salt and pancakes).
“Toms?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” He whispered into the silence of the night. It wasn’t a question, or a statement or a declaration. It was simply the truth, three words that he let spill from his heart and sink into his brother’s skin.
Wilbur wasn’t expecting anything in return, apart from maybe an ‘i love you too’. What he wasn’t expecting was his brother to tighten his grip and smother the sound of choked sobs in his hoodie.
“Hey,Toms….my sweet Toms, what’s wrong?” He stroked his fingers through the blonde tangle of curls that rested on his chest, trying to offer some sort of comfort.
“Noth..ing..i'm just so tired.” Tommy mumbled, his words laced with sadness and interrupted with small sobs that made this whole body shake.
Wilbur sat himself up, cradling Tommy like a small child and holding his brother’s face in his hands, gently wiping the constant flow of tears off his cheeks.
“Darling, you can tell me anything. You know that right? You don’t have to lie to me, Toms.” He noticed his brother's cheeks tint slightly darker at the nicknames, and it soothed him to know that his little brother hadn’t yet grown out of it.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Wilby.” The boy squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears that gradually grew heavier.
“No no don’t apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Tommy could hear how Wilbur had softened his tone, bringing his voice down to barely a whisper and started to rub the back of his head with his fingers. All the things he used to do to calm him down when he was younger. That small bit of comfort alone made him cry harder.
“I promise that it was an accident. I was stressed and wasn’t looking at what I was doing and…..” he took a moment from his rambling to breathe. “I didn’t mean to keep doing it. I don’t want to do it, it was an accident Wil.”
“Shhh shush, breathe darling. It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” The brunet continued to run soothing circles on his cheeks and behind his head, holding his brother closer than before.
“No, it’s not okay Wil. It’s not.” Tommy whispered. “I did this to myself. It’s my fault. All my fault.”
“It’s not your fault baby. I’m here for you. I’m here, Toms.”
By now, Wilbur had caught onto what Tommy was saying, and every word that left his mouth caused a pain in his chest. A searing pain that started off small and gradually grew with every breath. His brown eyes began to burn with the appearance of tears, but he couldn’t let himself cry. No. He had to be there for Tommy. He had to stay strong for his baby brother, who trembled violently in his lap and gripped onto his jumper as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Can you show me, Toms?” Wilbur whispered, voice trembling slightly.
Tommy froze in place, shoulders tensing slightly before he nodded, surrendering.
__________________________________________
Tommy was fourteen when he was asked to show his scars.
In the darkness of his bedroom, wrapped up in his brother's arms and feeding on his comforting warmth, he lifted his long sleeves. He pretended not to hear Wilbur choke on his breath, or feel his hair start to dampen with his brother's fallen tears. He pretended not to notice how the arms that secured his shook slightly or how the grip tightened, threatening to strangle him.
Instead, he snuggled into his safe space. Inhaling the sweet smell of sea salt and pancakes and pressing his cheek into the warm hand that belonged to his brother.
“I love you, Wil.”
Despite his brother telling him the same thing an hour prior, he was still minutely scared that it might have changed.
“I will always love you Toms.”
Maybe it was the ferocity in which he said it, leaving not even a smidge of doubt.
Maybe it was the kiss pressed into his hair, trailing down to his forehead.
Maybe it was how he woke up seven hours later, still held tightly in his brother’s hold.
But Tommy wholeheartedly believed him.