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ONCE UPON A TIME, a long time ago or maybe yesterday, on a small planet not too far from its sun but not too close either, there was a vast ocean. An Ocean so vast and big, the singular island on its waters could only contain a person barely smaller than the land itself. The person was, reasonably, a lonely fellow; having nothing but the fish and falling stars to talk to. All they could do was lay on their back and ask the moon what she thought of the whole ordeal, and even when she answered back with full honesty, they still wished they could have something like themself.
So the person asks around their small island, they ask the tree they leaned against during summer about if there was a way to find someone similar to them. The tree said it didn’t know anyting like the person, the tree could not explore the world, all the tree knew was the person and the surrounding waters that kept it alive. The person said “Okay, I will ask the fish instead.”
They ask the fish, and the fish respond in unison with their answer. “Even though we travel the world, we have not seen someone like you before.”
The person said, “Okay. I’ll ask the sun instead, he can see all around after all.”
When the person asks the sun, the sun tells them what he knows. “I have not seen someone like you, and I see everything.”
The person is a bit distraught, but they cut their losses and lean against the tree. They don’t move until the night comes and one of the many falling stars stops its journey, it hovers in the sky and stares at the still person. It asks them: “What is wrong?”
And so, the person recounts their feelings and wishes. The falling star hums in thought, and so the falling star tells them they can give the person someone like themself. The person perks up and asks how. The star answers with a smile.
“Wish upon me if you want, just do not use me. Think it through before you do, and when you're sure just say it true. The wind will carry it up, and soon your wish will be met.”
The person thinks for a few hours, after the star returns on its journey. Then they say out loud, “I wish for someone like me. I wish to be less lonely.”
Like they were promised by the falling star, the wind took up their wish to the star and the words spoken were held true. The person goes to sleep that night. They sleep through two days, before small hands shake them awake--
“Does that mean they are not alone anymore?” asks seven year old Wilbur Soot, a push hugged up to his chest and blanket thrown over his shoulder.
“Obviously not, dummie.” Says Technoblade Soot, also seven years old. “No one else in the story has hands so it's obviously someone else.”
The older twin scowls at the younger. “Stop being right.”
“No. I will not-”
“You’re being an as-”
“Okay!” resident father Philza Soot cuts in. “I think that's enough for today, yeah? It is getting late. And don't say that word Wilbur.”
“But you say it!” Wilbur argues, while Technoblade snickers in the background. “Why can’t i?”
“Because I know the weight it can have on people.” Philza explains gently. “You can;t say it until you’re at least 10.”
“But 10 is so far away from 7!” he complains. “How will I ever wait that long?”
“Guess you’ll just hafta wait, Wilbur.” Techno says very matter of-fact-ly. “It's not that hard.”
“Shut up!” Wilburs head snaps to his twin in a pretty terrifying way.
From where he stood with a children's storybook in hand, Philza Soot finds himself silently dying inside.
___
Wilbur and Technoblade Soot are 10 years old when they’re brother is born. They visit the hospital that day with their dad, skipping and hopping and chasing each other around whilst trying not to make a ruckus in the halls because that would be pretty bad. It's a hospital after all.
Wilbur gets to hold the boy first, he complains a lot about the tiny guy; he complains about his size, his lack of hair and horrible squishy-ness. He makes it known that the baby is weird, Techno responding that “That's how babies work, Wilbur.”
When Techno gets to hold him, he kindly asks his mother--Kristin-- his name. To which she tells them thoughtfully: “I think you two should get to name him.”
Queue, a long thought out process of arguing.
Wilbur argues for Thomas, because in his words it's sophisticated. Techno argues for Theseus because he had been going through his latest mythology hyperfixation and thought it sounded cool. Through a lot of compromise and a lot of grumbling, they settle on Tommy Thomas Theseus Soot, which is a pretty long name, but it worked in terms of what the two decided.
Yeah, letting two ten year olds name your child is probably a bad idea in the long term--TTTS is definitely one set of initials--but they weren’t exactly thinking in the long term. Plus, Tommy Thomas Thesues Soot could have been named after like… A transformer instead, it's not that bad. Optimus Prime Soot did not sound like a very good name.
Not a very good name at all.
Either way, the twins leave the hospital that night with smiles on their faces and a new baby sibling.
"I'm going to be the best brother ever!" Wilbur exclaims as he climbs into the car, Techno following after him and taking the middle seat—even though the one by the window was perfectly free. "I'm gonna be Toms' favourite and I'll be the one he goes to for advice, it'll be amazing Techno!"
The younger twin laughs in response. "Nah, I think I'll be his favourite."
Neither can anticipate the speeding truck coming their way, or Philza swerving to try and avoid being hit. Not until the cars flipped upside down, fires licking away at the seats and there's glass stuck in Wilburs skin.
———
Technoblade Soot, now technically the oldest of two twins, would like to say that funerals suck. Not only is someone you care about gone or dead, there's no colour and it's all around sad and gloomy and horrible. He likes to think he knows Wilbur well, they were twins after all. They shared about everything, from their room to their friends down to their birth date—the only difference there being that Wilbur was older by 10 minutes. Needless to say, Techno knew Wilbur Soot pretty darn well.
And Wilbur Soot does not like sad stuff. By sad, he means the kind of things that you watch on Netflix and cry afterwards; the kind of stuff you find in war documentaries and in books people wrote about horrible tragedies. Wilbur doesn't like that kind of stuff, not unless he's the one writing it. Techno doubts Wilbur would want his funeral to be depressing, Wilbur was probably rolling in his own grave. Wilbur would revive himself from pure spite and make this the fun-est funeral ever if he found out how it was going.
Wilbur was a big believer in celebrating life when it's over, Techno remembers. He and Wilbur n would stay up into the late hours of night and talk about random things, sometimes it would go into the topic of funerals and Wilbur always said he didn't want a sad funeral. Wilbur said he wanted a funeral that was like a birthday party, not a celebration of his death per say but… something else. He also said what that meant was up to interpretations.
And who said 10 year olds can't be introspective.
However, Wilburs ideal funeral didn't match with the kind of funeral that the culture around them asked for. So it was meant to be sad and depressing, not happy and party-like.
But Technos has always been a firm believer in carrying out wishes.
When he asked, he was called disrespectful and rude.
He'll… he'll say sorry to Wilbur about the sucky funeral later.
That day, a new gravestone is planted into the cemetery right around the block of the old red brick elementary school.
(That same day, Tommy Thomas Theseus Soot says his first words, which is perhaps the silver lining of it all.)
--the person wakes up to see someone much like themself. With the same stature, eyes, fleshy skin and face. Said person was smaller and seemed a bit dumber, with longer hair and a personality that was akin to each newborn star in the sky. Someone held their chin to their knees, standing on the balls of their feet and a small smirk placed on their lips.
“Hello!” Says the small version of themself. “Who are you?”
The person stays silent for a little bit, before answering the first thing that comes to mind. “... I think--”
“Well hello there Ithink! My name is Nothing!”
The person, a bit puzzled, asks a question to the slightly smaller version of themself. “How can your name be Nothing?”
“Just like how your name can be Ithink. An extension of yourself you are most comfortable with, so call me Nothing!”
“Huh.” said the person, not actually having a name, but growing quite fond of the one Nothing had assigned to them. “Never thought of it that way.”
Nothing throws their hands up. “Well! You won’t be lonely anymore--
“How do they know that they’re lonely?” an eight year old Tommy Soot asks, leaning on the edge of a bed previously belonging to someone who he would never meet. “The person never told them they were lonely!”
A currently 18 year old Technoblade, stopping by the house for the weekend, groans.
“It's a story, Toms, it’ll probably be revealed later.”
Tommys mind does not wrap its head around this answer, both from being impatient and from being somewhat tired. “It doesn’t make sense though.”
“It’ll make sense later though, won't it?”