Work Text:
"Will, I'm sorry”
Tommy's voice sounded metallic and odd through the speaker. Wilbur was still rubbing his eyes tiredly, trying to wake up from what he felt was the deepest sleep he had in days. He could hear a monotone loud sound in the background of the phone call.
"Toms, what's going on? Are you ok?"
The answer did not come right away. For a while, the rumbling background noise and Tommy’s uneven breaths were the only things he could hear. He could be in a car, Wilbur reasoned, brain still sluggish from sleep. Or on a train. Yeah, the noise sounded more like a train. As the thought formed in Wilbur’s mind, he was instantly more awake. He squinted at his too bright phone screen: 1:10 AM.
"Tommy where are you? Are you safe?”. He tried to listen more closely. “Is that a train I hear in the background?"
Tommy just chuckled weakly. "Will, I am so sorry"
Wilbur had never heard him speak so tiredly. He sat up in bed, different scenarios starting to unfold in his mind. He could be lost somewhere. He could need help. Maybe this is why he was calling him in the middle of the night. Tommy trusted him more than anybody else, even more than his dad, and he had already called him once when he had missed a connection and had needed a ride. He should be at home at this time though, Wilbur thought. He was starting to get really worried, and Tommy just wouldn't talk.
"Hey, whatever this is, it's ok”. “Do you want me to come get you? Do you need a ride?" he tried to guess.
Tommy didn't answer. The silence was longer this time, and Wilbur could not take it. He spoke as gently as he could, trying to coax the younger into saying something: "What are you sorry about, Toms?"
A distorted laugh reached him through the phone, drowned by statics, or what could be a passing train. It sounded so much like Tommy, yet at the same time it couldn't have been more different, Wilbur thought. So much older. Something was off.
Tommy spoke slowly: "I don't think I need a ride. I just…” he exhaled sharply. “I just can’t stop thinking. I can’t. It won't stop.”
"Tommy where are you?"
Once again, no response. The rumbling sound in the background had dimmed down now. Wilbur could barely hear it anymore, like a sad wail in the distance. Sitting in his dark room, he watched his digital clock flash from 01:11 to 01:12 AM.
"Toms?" he repeated.
"I'm in Brighton. At the train station"
Wait, what? Wilbur was stunned for a moment. He tried to shove his concerns aside. Tommy was just ten minutes away from him. If his brother refused to say more on the phone, he could just get to him quickly and figure out what was happening. He would bring him home, and they would talk, and together they’d figure out what was wrong. In a matter of seconds, Wilbur got up and grabbed his jeans from the floor. He struggled to press his phone between his shoulder and cheek, so he could listen to any further elaboration from Tommy. His brother remained silent though, while the hissing and rumble from the other side were getting louder again. This time, Wilbur knew it was an oncoming train.
"I am coming to you Tommy"
The response was immediate this time: "No Will, wait. I don't need you to come get me. I... I don't know why I came here. I just wanted to get far from home and try to make it stop. I want- " His voice cracked, and he whispered: "Will, I don't want to be like this. My mind doesn’t work anymore and I want to fix it".
Wilbur felt his heart give a leap, as the realization hit him all at once: Tommy was alone in the middle of the night, on a platform, trains barrelling by in front of him, all around him, and he was being crushed by thoughts that were too big and scary to contemplate.
He forced himself to react, and scrambled for words: "I promise we can fix this…" he needed to get him to safety. "Tommy man, listen. You sound scared right now. I really want to see you, and then we can make sure that you're not scared anymore, ok?"
Wilbur held his phone in a death grip, trying to listen closely for a response from Tommy through all the background noises. In the meantime, he grasped blindly at his backpack to get his car keys and glasses. God, where had he put them again?
“Tommy?” he called. For a minute, shallow breathing was the only thing he could hear. Wilbur threw his coat on and sprinted out of his house.
“It's so nice speaking to you, you know?" Tommy suddenly declared in a pensive tone.
“Thanks mate, it's nice speaking to you too". Wilbur hastily slammed his car door. "Why ... why don't we keep doing so until I get there?"
Tommy did not hesitate. "I want to sleep, Will" he said softly.
"You can sleep at mine, we'll get the spare mattress out for me, and you can have my bed! How does it sound eh?" Wilbur rambled.
He pressed harder on the accelerator, speeding through the orange monotone light of old street lamps, his mind racing much faster than he could drive his car. Get to Tommy and take him home. He will be safe with him. He heard another long hiss, probably from the strained brakes of an oncoming train. Then Tommy asked:
"Do you think I will be ok?"
"Yes. Yes, you will." Wilbur said firmly.
Tommy's soft voice was drowning in the growing wail of a train. "I think I’ll sleep now, Will"
"Tommy no!” Will was sure that a hole had just been punched through his chest. He wanted to beg him, he wanted to scream that he will be ok, to please listen to him. “I- you don’t have to do it! Listen-”.
Words came out of his mouth like a waterfall of sorrow: “I lost you in that huge station when you were a child, do you remember? I stopped to look at a… a stupid console in a game store window and I fucking lost you.”
Every word was rushed, because he needed his brother to hear him out.
“I looked for you for the longest twenty minutes of my life. I cried while speaking with the policemen. Then a lady told me they had seen a child dressed just like you get on a train to London with a man, and I cried harder.”
Wilbur took a shaky breath: "And then we found you. Like, 20 feet away from the game store. You were crying too, you thought I had left you there and got on a train by myself. You were so scared, but you did the right thing: you stayed rooted in the same fucking spot you got lost at. Not a step further."
Pain was closing Wilbur's throat. " Don’t do it, Tommy. Don't take another step. Please. I am coming to you."
A weird strangled sound reached him through the phone. For a horrible moment, Wilbur thought his brother could be laughing maniacally, on the verge of falling, but he quickly realized that Tommy had broken into sobs. Something had shifted: he could feel that the fog of consuming darkness around his brother had lifted. He was crying quietly now, and when he spoke, he was his little Tommy again, the Tommy he knew.
"Will, can you come get me please?" he whispered. He sounded so young, Wilbur thought, just like when he was a child and his idiot brother had lost him in a station.
Relief flooded Wilbur’s chest, still aching but not as much as before. "Almost there, Tommy".
"I'm so sorry” his brother sobbed over and over. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, I’m sorry. I’m such an arsehole.”
"Tommy it’s fine! You did the right thing. You called for help. You called me, and I will be there with you in a minute”. Wilbur’s eyes were stinging and his vision was getting increasingly blurred.
“I- I’ll meet you in front of the station Will”
A hot tear rolled down Wilbur’s nose.
"I can’t wait to see you."
In front of the station, old metal benches glimmered in the dim light of the street lamps, which bathed everything in a weird soft hue. For the first time since waking up, Wilbur felt the chilly air on his face, breathed it in, and his thoughts stopped screaming in his mind. Snow would be falling soon; he could see it in the colour of the sky, he could taste it in his mouth. Maybe this was just the comforting aftermath of a very realistic nightmare, he thought absently. God, he wished so, but he knew it wasn’t true. He saw a couple of late passengers hurrying near the entrance, and then there he was: a lanky teenager slumped on a bench, head sunk in his hands, blonde hair falling in his eyes.
Wilbur’s heart skipped a beat. Seeing the boy before himself made the phone call all too real. When Tommy spotted him, he quickly rubbed his eyes, probably trying to hide his tears. His face was a disaster, red and wet, eyes puffy from crying.
"Hey Will" he greeted weakly.
Wilbur couldn't talk. He just opened his arms, engulfed his brother in a hug and held him tightly, not caring about his glasses getting all tilted on his face as he pressed his cheek to Tommy’s head. He relished the hug. His brother had been far away just minutes ago, his body stood on a cold platform and his mind lost in the darkest fog, but now Wilbur could feel him in his arms, and he mentally repeated to himself that he was real, alive and breathing.
He heard Tommy break into a small sob again, face buried on his shoulder even though he was almost as tall as him. “It’s ok Tommy.” Wilbur whispered, stroking his back. He could have hugged him for a whole year.
Even this late at night, a few people were walking by around them. A group of drunk teenagers was chatting loudly and laughing. Yet no one was paying attention to the two brothers clinging to each other, and Wilbur was glad for it: this moment was just for Tommy and himself, for having found each other in the station once again, for not being apart anymore.
After a while, Tommy calmed down, sobs reduced to quiet sniffling. He slouched in Wilbur’s hug.
"Can I have a tissue?" he asked. He paused, as if he wanted to add something. Then he muttered grumpily: "It feels like my nose is going to fall off”.
Wilbur could hear the half smile in his voice. He sounded so utterly exhausted, but a spark of his old self was shining through, and Wilbur had never been so relieved to hear a joke from him.
"Yes. Yes, you gremlin. As many tissues as you want."
He felt new tears well in his eyes, but gently scrubbed his eyelids to stop them. They had done enough crying for now.
Tomorrow would come soon with all its sorrows, and they would cry again and again, but just for tonight they could forget everything in the world.