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“Where’s Wil?” Tommy asked, bouncing on the heels of his feet, talons scraping against the wooden floors. He gripped tightly to a small collection of rocks that he had found while digging in his garden.
“I’m not sure, why?” Phil asked, pulling his cloak off and hanging it up by the door. He shook his wings out, fluffing his feathers up.
“I want to show him!”
“Wilbur? He went up there,” Tubbo peeked in from the living room, pointing up towards the ladder that led up to the attic. His wings fluttered lightly behind his back, there was chalk dust all over his pants along with something that Tommy didn’t want to question.
“Oh?” Tommy stared up at the attic, his face fell, “Oh.”
“I don’t know what he’s doing, he just went up there earlier,” Tubbo shrugged, fluttering back to the counter, his feet an inch or two off the ground. He returned to the station that he had set up in the kitchen, Tommy was afraid of what he was doing. It looked like he had a bunch of worms and what might be a slug.
“Where did Ranboo skitter off to?” Phil asked, walking further into the pub, looking over Tubbo’s shoulder with a concerned expression as Tubbo poked at the slug with a stick. Tommy wrinkled his nose.
“I don’t know,” Tubbo said, spreading his hands, gesturing with his stick, “I think he’s outside in the garden. I told him to find me more slugs.”
“What are you… doing?” Phil asked.
“I’ve got worms!” Tubbo exclaimed, jumping into some long explanation that Tommy had tuned out. He glanced up at the attic, his wings bristling.
Deciding that he would just go peek up, see what Wilbur was doing, and pop back down to the main floor, Tommy stuffed the rocks in his pockets. If Tommy was honest, he didn’t like the attic. What he had seen the first day of exploring was enough to cause his heart to flutter with anxiety every time he was forced to go up there.
The nests that were arranged in their own order, frozen in time and holding the memory of the previous inhabitants of this island. It was enough to keep Tommy out of the attic.
Wilbur seemed to have a fascination with the attic. He had said it was because it was the part of the house that could become the darkest during the day.
Carefully, Tommy pulled himself up the ladder, his wings tucked tightly to his back as he ascended.
Peeking his head up the hole into the attic, Tommy looked around. His eyes were wide and quickly adjusting to the darkness.
While the attic had very large windows that faced the sun during all times of the day, they also had large shutters that when closed, blocked out almost all of the light. It was a stark contrast to the ones on the first floor that didn’t have any shutters or blinds.
Wilbur had the shutters closed, plunging the attic into darkness. And for good measure a sheet had been hung up over the windows as well, keeping out any light that dared to seep through.
“Wil?” Tommy asked, blinking. His eyes were slow to adjust and he felt a flush of embarrassment, knowing that Wilbur could probably easily see him stumble up through the attic entrance. There was no response, Tommy fluffed up his wings, his stomach churned.
Tommy could see the crates lined up in the corners of the room, stacked up against each other. It looked like they had been pushed to the side and arranged into some pattern. There was a shuffle from behind one of the crates, the top of it pried open by something.
Something moved out of the corner of his eye and Tommy shuddered, turning his head to look. Wilbur looked up from where he was sitting in the middle of the room near the wall. His green eyes glowed brightly, the only reason that Tommy knew it was him and not something that he was just imagining in the darkness.
“Stop being all creepy,” Tommy shuffled into the attic on his hands and knees, dust sticking to his palms, “What are you doing up here being all weird?”
“Hm?” Wilbur rubbed his eyes, pushing the crate to the side. He moved slowly as he approached Tommy.
“What are you doing up here?” Tommy repeated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Wilbur blinked at him, Tommy could just barely see the outline of his face. The attic was blanketed in a fuzzy grayscale as his eyes adjusted.
“Sitting…?” Wilbur muttered, “dark.”
“Come on, I’ve got something to show you,” Tommy reached out, grabbing what he really hoped was his arm, “you’re gonna love it.”
“Mm,” He hummed again, giving Tommy an incomprehensible answer. But he let himself be pulled out of the attic, his grip loose on the rungs as he followed Tommy down. His tail drooped, half-tucked between his legs.
Tommy’s grip tightened on his arm as he looked over at Wilbur. In the light, Tommy could see the bags that hung under his eyes and the way his hair was disheveled. He rubbed his eyes and squinted.
He furrowed his eyebrows, worry evident on his features but he dragged Wilbur to the nest. Wilbur hadn’t said anything which was weird for him, usually, he would’ve complained at least a little.
“I found rocks digging in the garden!” Tommy explained, tripping over one of the blankets of the nest as he dug the rocks out of his pockets. Wilbur settled down next to him, sitting practically shoulder to shoulder with the avian as he let Tommy present the different rocks.
He nodded approval when Tommy looked over at him, but besides that, he didn’t say anything more than small hums. He blinked slowly and rubbed his eyes again.
Phil looked over at the two, holding a hand up to Tubbo and promising to be right back, he stepped over to where they were settled. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ranboo appearing in the doorway in a fit of purple particles, his finally reformed pearl whirring. He tracked mud on the floor.
“Wilbur?” Phil asked, putting a hand on his head. Wilbur turned, looking up at Phil.
Taking one look over Wilbur, Phil could assume that something was wrong. Wilbur had seemed off the past few days. Oddly quiet and reserved, keeping to himself and the way that he was practically pressed against Tommy’s side was a bit unusual for him.
However, the one thing that really set off alarm bells in Phil’s mind was that he looked exhausted. He moved lethargically, bags under his eyes and his form looking increasingly faded. It had been a while since Wilbur had slept if Phil remembered correctly which was worrying.
Wilbur made a noise of acknowledgment, rubbing his eyes. He spread his legs out in front of himself.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Phil asked, “You okay?”
“Mhm,” Wilbur hummed, “'m fine.”
“You’ve seemed tired lately,” Phil carded his fingers through Wilbur’s hair and Wilbur leaned into the touch humming softly. Tommy nodded in agreement.
Wilbur didn’t answer. He looked away from Phil and curled his fingers around one of the blankets.
“Tired… yeah…” Wilbur muttered.
“When was the last time you slept?”
Pointedly, Wilbur stared at the rocks that Tommy had set out in front of himself. Swaying slightly where he sat.
“Don’t know…”
Tommy looked up at Phil, furrowing his eyebrows with worry. He fidgeted with the rocks in front of himself, rolling them around between his hands.
“How about I’ll make dinner tonight,” Phil said, rubbing lightly at his head, “you get some sleep.”
Wilbur frowned his tail twitching, “okay…” he seemed reluctant at that. Tommy gathered his rocks and stuffed them back in his pockets.
“Tommy, Ranboo is digging in your garden which might be something you want to monitor,” Phil warned, putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy’s eyes widened as he hurriedly stood up. Wilbur opened his mouth like he was going to say something but quickly closed it.
“Oh no.”
“He brought me baby toads,” Tubbo said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “not slugs.”
Giving Tubbo a confused stare, Tommy furrowed his eyebrows, noticing the cup of baby toads sitting on the counter next to him. He disregarded it and hurried out of the pub, his wings flapping behind him.
Wilbur watched him leave, his expression was tired and he sunk further into the edge of the nest. Phil looked down at Wilbur, then over at Tubbo who was sitting at the counter, occupied by his worms and slugs. He shuffled over, settling down into the nest next to Wilbur.
“Hey,” Phil wrapped one of his wings around Wilbur and he leaned into Phil’s side, letting out a shaky exhale, “so what’s going on?” He spoke softly, his voice filled with worry but quiet enough that Tubbo wouldn’t be at risk of eavesdropping.
“Nothing…” Wilbur muttered, letting his eyes slip shut for a second.
“Wil, you’re not acting like yourself,” Phil continued to run his fingers through Wilbur’s hair, rubbing lightly at the base of his horns, “and you look exhausted.”
“Mhm.”
“So what’s wrong?”
Wilbur didn’t respond for a long time, he clenched his hands into fists, digging his fingers into the fabric of his pants.
“The light hurts…” Wilbur said slowly, clenching his jaw, “more than usual.”
“Is that why you’ve been sitting up in the attic?”
He nodded. Wilbur stared at his lap, he looked ready to pass out and Phil was pretty sure that it had been a week since the last time that he had slept.
“Why haven’t you been sleeping?” Phil then asked.
“I… I don’t…” Wilbur’s voice shook, “I don’t know…”
Phil just nodded, “that’s okay.”
“I can’t sleep…” Wilbur whispered, “I just… every time I… I try to sleep I get so anxious…”
Phil just hummed, crooning softly and petting Wilbur’s hair. Letting the Phantom hybrid speak.
“I just feel so needy ,” there were tears welling up in the corners of Wilbur’s eyes that he quickly wiped away with the back of his hand, “I… It’s so stupid…”
“Wil, whatever you need I’ll be here or we’ll all be here to provide it,” Phil reassured him, “I promise it’s not stupid.”
Wilbur shook his head, “you all sleep at night…” Phil nodded and he had a small idea of where this was going, “and I… I can’t sleep at night… I—I try and sleep and I get so lonely … it… it’s so stupid because I’m… I’m used to sleeping alone… but the past week I just can’t… I’m…”
He sniffled, leaning further into Phil’s side, tears fell down his face that left streaks, “I’m so tired…” he cried silently, covering his mouth with one hand, “I’m not a child either… I can… I can sleep on my own… I don’t know why it’s so bad…”
“Hey, hey,” Phil soothed him quietly, wiping the tears off his face with his thumb, “you should’ve said something about this. We could’ve done something to help.”
“I’m supposed to be responsible,” Wilbur leaned into Phil’s touch, covering Phil’s hand on his cheek with his own, “I… I shouldn’t be feeling like this… like… when you leave I get all scared and upset… and… and I feel so clingy and it’s… I shouldn’t. I’m not a child…”
“Hey, it’s okay to feel like that,” Phil said, “I think right now your instincts are just going haywire, where you’ll want to be by your family and that’s okay, days like that happen. I’m right here… Ranboo and Tommy are just outside digging in the garden. Tubbo’s over there, we’re all here, Wil.”
Wilbur looked up at Phil, his shoulders were trembling and more tears ran down his cheeks. He pressed his face into Phil’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around the elytrain tightly, like if he let go Phil would disappear.
“I’m so tired,” Wilbur’s small wheezing sobs were muffled into Phil’s shirt, “I can’t sleep.”
“I’m right here Wil,” Phil reassured him, petting his hair, “you can sleep and I’ll stay here with you. I promise I won’t leave.”
Wilbur went quiet, shaking like a leaf in the wind and gripping onto the back of Phil’s shirt. Phil could tell that he wasn’t asleep though, occasionally his breath would hitch and another small sob would bubble up.
“You promise?” he finally whispered, seeming to shrink in on himself.
“Of course.”
Wilbur nodded, pulling his face away from Phil’s shoulder and staring up at the older man. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He sniffled and rubbed his eyes, making a small distressed croon.
Phil gathered Wilbur fully in his arms, the Phantom hybrid let himself be moved easily. He curled up against Phil, his head resting against his chest and Phil continued to run his fingers through Wilbur’s hair. Phil relaxed against the edge of the nest, sinking into a more comfortable position.
Blinking tiredly, Wilbur let his eyes slip shut, his fist curled around the fabric of Phil’s shirt. Phil circled his wings around him, and he could feel Wilbur’s tail wag happily a few times. He hissed and crooned in what Phil knew to be content noises. After a few minutes, they faded off into small snores as his tail stopped moving.
When Tommy and Ranboo returned, Phil quickly shushed them as they entered quite loudly, covered in dirt and making a complete mess of the floors. Tubbo looked up from what he was doing, looked over at Phil in the nest, and then sighed.
“Go clean yourselves up and come in here,” Phil said, nodding towards the nest. Tommy and Ranboo looked over at each other and grimaced. Tommy dragged Ranboo towards the bathroom all the while Ranboo made distressed chirps and clicks, his tail swishing back and forth.
Tubbo made quick work of cleaning up what he was doing at the counter and washing off of any gross things before he practically flopped into the nest, his wings fluttering behind him and catching his fall. He spread himself out on his stomach, stretching his arms in front of himself and buzzing with content.
How the two of them managed to get cleaned up at the speed that they did so will forever be a mystery to Phil. But they soon returned, clean and neatly dressed. Ranboo’s hair was patted down and (possibly) combed while Tommy stood with sticks still in his hair.
Tommy peeked over Phil’s wings at Wilbur’s sleeping form and nodded. He chose to curl up against Phil’s side, leaning his head on Phil’s shoulder. Ranboo poked at Tubbo and forced the bee hybrid to move over. As Ranboo laid down, Tubbo shifted so that he was half laying on top of him. Ranboo’s tail snaked its way around Phil’s ankle, the fluff at the end of it tickling his skin.
It was quiet and comfortable.
When Wilbur woke up hours later, he found himself surrounded by the rest of his family. The buzzing in his mind and the pounding headache had finally gone away. Along with the anxious feeling in his stomach that kept him from sleeping. He took a slow breath, relaxing back into Phil’s arms.
It was a nice day, a slow one. But a nice one at that.
Everyone else was asleep, and upon taking stock of who was around him, Wilbur settled back down. Letting the last bits of exhaustion drag him into a comfortable sleep.