Chapter Text
Tommy likes to watch the others.
Tommy spends his days wandering around the forest in which he lives. With the amount of exploring he does, he should know the world like the back of his hands.
Every day there’s something new for him to watch or to play with. Lately he’s grown rather fond of the anthill in front of his cave hole where he sleeps on his side. When it’s warm enough and the rain hasn’t come, he likes to lay in the grass and watch the ants work until his eyelids fall short.
Today, though, Tommy is bored. There’s an itchy feeling in his chest. It comes when he wakes and when he sleeps, but it never really leaves him. It’s different from boredom, but it comes hand in hand.
Once long ago when his brother was still around, he taught him emotions.
“Grumpy,” Wilbur had told him, holding the four year old in his lap. “You are grumpy.”
In total, Tommy can remember only a handful of emotions. Grumpy and happy, maybe, and bored if that counts. Tired.
He doesn’t remember much about Wilbur - only that he was there for the first years of his life. The fae taught him what berries to eat and how to keep the bears from eating him.
He doesn’t like to think of Wilbur because when he thinks of Wilbur, he gets that itchy feeling.
When the itchy feeling comes, it doesn’t go away. Even when he does all the things that make him happy when he’s sad. He plays in the ponds, says hello to the ants crawling across his hiss, angers the bees until they chase him, and explores his forest. It doesn’t make it go away.
When he’s itchy, he likes to watch the humans.
They don’t help. Watching them makes it worse, but somehow he’s drawn back to them.
He finds happy in the people talking. The sound of humans speaking is enough to make his heart ache in the uncomfortable, drowning feeling he can’t name. It hurts him, but he misses it.
He likes to watch the humans, the ones who don’t like to look at him.
The boy in this house is named Jack. He sits outside and plays with a weird machine almost everyday. He’s alone too, but Tommy doesn’t dare try to play.
He had tried once, long ago. Wilbur had forbade it. He said humans weren’t nice creatures. “They’re not like me and you,” he had once said. “It’s safer for you to stay away.”
But, oh, how he had craved to go near the beautifully loud creatures that hold each other. They wrap their arms around one another in a way Tommy can only crave after going so long without being touched by something warm. When it’s hot he lays on the burning ground and pretends it’s another. He pretends it’s Wilbur until he gets too sad to play pretend anymore.
He wants to play with Jack. He wants to sit with Jack and watch the ants. He could invite him to play in his pond.
Except, humans don’t like Tommy. They don’t like that he’s not like him. The mangled wings on his back and the flowers rotting over his face scare them.
The first time he tried to play he ended up with a scar across his neck. The thorns growing inside of him hate the memory. He’s only seen the scar a few times, but he knows it’s not pretty. The thorns cover it for him, so he doesn’t get to see it. He doesn’t get to see the reminder that the humans don’t love him, and they never will.
After watching Jack, Tommy goes back to his home. He lives in a dark cave. He doesn’t have a way to bring light inside, but sometimes if he’s lucky his body will grow a glowing plant for him to read.
“Hi, bee,” Tommy greets as a small buzzing sound fills his ears. He twirls his head around in the dark. “It’s dark, bee, I can’t see you.”
Coming to his rescue, a flower sprouts out from the ground and produces a light. “Thank you, my love,” he says, bowing his head. “I can see now. Very poggers.” He may not know the word for his itchy feelings, but he can make up his own words. His words are better. “Bee?”
His friend flies in front of him. Tommy holds his hand out so he can carefully land. “Tubbo,” he greets, giggling. “How are you?” He doesn’t stay in his hand and instead flies into the night sky. “Fine, then, bitch, catch you later, I guess.” He rolls his eyes.
Better be important if he’s hastily running off like that. He hasn’t seen-
“I really don’t think that’s right.”
Tommy’s blood runs cold. Tubbo’s nowhere in sight, and the flower doesn’t produce enough light for him to see past the front of his cave. There’s speaking, but it’s not him.
Humans don’t come into this forest. They don’t dare to. They fear the darkness and the flowers that bloom under Tommy’s feet. They fear his friends and the creatures that live here. They fear Tommy.
They hate what they fear. They hate everything about Tommy, and everything Tommy loves and is.
“No, she’s right,” a voice says, and he can hear laughter.
He should hide. He really should hide, but god, laughter sounds so pretty. He wants to hear more of it. He has to hear more of it.
Carefully, cautiously, Tommy’s wings twitch. They’re not strong enough to let him fly, but they twitch in a phantom instinct. He presses himself against his own flower and cranes his head. In the dark, he can just barely make out two people.
There’s a man with a beanie scowling at the two of them. He’s got a lantern in his hand, but it does little to light their path. At his side is a monotone colored man with a frog on his head.
The laughter isn’t coming from either of them.
“Look!” a voice says, neither of the two. It’s beautiful, alluring. He leans in closer. A woman sprints up to them, tackling into the man with the frog. “We never get these types of flowers back home.”
“Oh god,” the man in the beanie groans. “We’re so lost that Hannah’s discovering new flower species!”
“Quackity, please don’t be dramatic,” the frog man spits. “We’re not lost! I know exactly where we are.”
“Don’t lie,” the woman, Hannah, says, rolling her eyes. “Booms, come on. We’re lost, and it’s okay! We’re going with the flow.”
“This is most certainly not okay,” Quackity grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is a nightmare, and it’s gonna rain soon.”
“It’s not gonna rain,” Boomer says.
He raises an eyebrow.
Tommy can’t help but watch them as they walk. Hannah leans over Boomer until her feet come off the ground like she’s --
She’s flying.
He can’t see them well at all, but her feet aren’t touching the ground.
He has to see. He has to get a closer look. He has to see!
“Come on,” Tommy whispers, pleading with the flowers that grow around him. “Light, please.”
He closes his eyes in a tight prayer. Come on, come on…
His magic only works half the time, and that’s if he’s being generous.
It never works when he wants it to. The flowers grow when the forest is kind to him. When he gets his sad feeling, the plants like to wrap around him. They don’t feel like a hug like when Wilbur used to hold him in his lap, but they’re comforting in a different way.
They love him in the way they’re a part of him. The forest is Tommy’s home, but in a way Tommy is the home. He is the forest. He is a burning forest fire, and the townspeople are his witness watching him burn alive.
The forest loves him and holds him tightly, but it doesn’t let him control it. He closes his eyes and prays that the flowers will grow a light for him. He has to see these humans. He has to see how she’s flying.
“...Is he asleep?”
The voice sounds close.
Really.
Really close.
Tommy slowly opens his eyes to a faceful of person. “Holy shit!” he screeches, scrambling to his feet. His forehead bumps against the face, and he falls back to the ground. The man in the beanie, Quackity, is right in front of him. He cradles his head as Tommy scrambles back to put some distance between himself and the strangers. “Stay back!”
“He was not asleep,” he grimaces.
“Quackity, you bitch, you scared him,” Boomer says, joining his side.
Tommy’s chest heaves. It’s been so long since he’s been in the presence of others. He watches them surely. He watches and listens to them speak, but it’s been ages since someone’s looked at him.
His eyes shy away from the piercing eyes. It’s dark, too dark for him to see, but the gaze is still far too much for him to bare. He keeps his eyes casted down as he puts his hands in front of his face. “I’m not scared, dick!”
“...You’re shaking,” he adds. “He’s totally shaking. Quackity, you scared him.”
“You’re scaring him!” he says.
“Oh, you poor baby,” Hannah coos. Tommy raises his head to face the not one, not two, but three people looking at him. He backs himself up to get away from him, but he runs back first into a tree. His heart wrenches, and he kicks at the ground.
Normally when he gets hurt the leaves will wrap around him. The forest will come to save him, but tonight it’s quiet. Tonight he’s alone in the presence of these strangers.
“Stop it! I’ll -- I’ll kill you,” Tommy says, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’ll beat you up n’ --”
Up close, he can see how she was flying. Hannah’s barefeet land on the ground, and her wings finally flutter to a stop.
“You can fly.”
“You guys are dicks, scaring a poor kid,” Hannah says, shoving Boomer so hard he falls over. Tommy giggles, and she falls back on her ass to sit in front of him.
A flower sprouts from the ground and a light emits. “You have wings,” Tommy says.
Hannah watches the plant grow and shine a light upon them. “I do,” she says, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Would you like to see?”
“Oh, here goes Hannah,” Quackity sighs.
“Shut up,” she sings, voice angelic. Tommy giggles again. His curiosity gets the best of him. He slowly crawls over to see the bubblegum pink wings. They’re not stuck inside of his shirt like hers. They protrude and stretch out at least a foot. They sparkle under the flower’s light. “Aren’t they cool?”
“Don’t say yes,” Boomer hisses. “You’re encouraging her ego.”
“They’re cool,” Tommy says, and they groan dramatically.
Hannah turns around, and Tommy can’t help but groan. He wants to see the wings again. She beams up at him, and he decides he’s okay with looking at her.
His heart patters with a coursing fear, but he loans for the contact. He needs to hear them speak, needs to breathe the same air as another.
Wilbur would be mad at him if he was around.
But.. that bastard isn’t around, is he?
He shakes his head frantically. Now’s not the time to be sad, thinking about what could’ve been. Now’s the time to be anxious, he thinks.
“You’re not gonna shoot me, right?” Tommy asks, tilting his head to the side. “‘Cause you’re like me.”
Hannah’s smile disappears. “Shoot you?”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Boomer sighs, walking closer to them. “He lives near the human’s side, doesn’t he?”
“Don’t patronize me!” Tommy says, standing up. “You bitch! I’ll--”
“You say way too many words you shouldn’t,” he interrupts. Tommy marches over to him and pushes against him, but he barely budges. “Hey! Stop that--ow! That actually hurts.” Tommy pushes him again. “Guys, help!”
“Nah,” Hannah says, shaking her hand. “This is funny as hell.”
“Hannah!” he groans, trying to grab Tommy’s wrists. He’s too fast, however. Tommy ducks behind him and jumps up on him. He climbs up him to wrap his arms around his neck.
“Aw, he’s hugging you,” she coos. “Boomie made a friend.”
“He’s strangling me,” Boomer says. “Bud? You’re--Eep!”
Hands press against Tommy’s back, and white hot pain courses through him. He lets go instantly. He braces himself to hit the ground harshly, but instead he’s wrapped up in warm.
Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur--
It’s been so long since he’s been held by Wilbur.
“Whoa there, kid,” not Wilbur says. “Why’d you spazz out like that?”
Tommy’s slowly set down on the ground. He tries not to be peeved about the sudden pain of someone touching his wings. He can barely focus on the pain when burning touch lingers on his skin long after Quackity’s let go of him.
“You okay, little one?” Hannah asks, holding out her arms. “I’m sorry about my meanie twin. He’s awful, isn’t he?”
Her allure is too strong for him to resist. He charges forward and throws himself into her lap. She cackles, wrapping him up in a hug. He twists around once her hands touch his back. “Are you hurt? Did Boomie hurt you?”
“I didn’t do anything!”
She throws him a glare. “You okay, kid?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve wings too,” he says instead.
“Oh, you do?” she says, playing along.
“Yeah!” Tommy says. “I don’t show people them ‘cause it’s dangerous. Mine aren’t like yours, though.”
“Dangerous,” she echoes.
There’s a lull.
Then, “Are you… alone out here?”
Tommy shakes his head. “I’ve got the plants.”
The three exchange nervous glances.
Hannah turns around. “Guys, do you think Sam will be mad if we bring another home?”
Tommy blinks innocently up at her.
“Nawr, fuck it,” she says, wings fluttering as she picks the two off them off the ground. “We’re taking him home.”
Tommy’s heart clenches in his chest as the other two bicker at the one holding him.
And, for once, for the first time since Wilbur was around, the itchy feeling goes away.