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Tommy was tired.
Tommy was so, very tired.
Every movement he made seemed meaningless and futile. It was a pain, a drag-on, something he felt like he couldn’t pull with him anymore. As troublesome and harmful as it was though, he believed he had to keep on going. Giving up on everything now would be just as pointless as his mind created his movements to be. And maybe he was being dramatic, but it’s not like he could help it. Thoughts can’t really be controlled.
The thoughts started months ago though, and while they can’t be controlled- They shouldn’t be hidden and shoved away. Tommy knows that.
He thinks he knows that.
He thought he knew.
He didn’t want to tell anyone he was feeling so despaired though. He didn’t want to inconvenience them! There were so many other problems the people around him were handling, dealing with Tommy’s dumb little thoughts and emotions should be the absolute last thing on their mind.
Tubbo has a kid, and recently lost Ranboo. Ranboo was his husband, dead now.
And repeated; Ranboo is dead. Why the fuck should a dead person care for someone who wants- used to be dead. It’s dumb, Tommy thinks.
Wilbur-
…
Wilbur has work. He has a burger van. He had a plan at some point with a machine- Tommy never found out what happened after. Besides, they aren’t a family, what would he care? Wilbur said they were a family at some point. Were in the past tense. Used to be. A feeling long gone apparently, because that’s what Wilbur said and Wilbur doesn’t lie-
Tommy found himself on a bridge. Not just any bridge though- He was standing on the bridge that was strung above the crater once known as L’manberg. He didn’t know when he got there, Last he remembered he was taking care of his pet spider (His name is Shroud). He must’ve had a blank mind on his way here, He guesses. Doesn’t really explain much for him, though, He’s still wondering when he even moved. But when he decides to ignore that confusion, and peek over the edge of the bridge, His emotions and thoughts change to a sense of nostalgia.
When he looks at this crater? He can almost hear laughter.
He can almost hear singing. He can almost see the lights they strung from wall to wall one night as they celebrated to their heart's content. He can see himself and his best friend. He can see Tubbo. He can see himself and his brother, He can see Wilbur.
Tommy misses it, he knows he does. L’manberg was his home. His safe place. It had been blown up three times now and left behind nothing but a crater and nature’s course taking control. He thinks about those explosions, those wars, and he thinks about how- still to this day, even a year or longer after each- He still believes he’s at fault for it. He honestly blames nobody but himself sometimes.
“What?”
There’s a voice that asks a question and breaks the cole silence. Tommy jumps upon hearing it, and turns to see who the person the voice belongs to is.
And it’s Wilbur.
“oh, jesus fucking- Why are you here?” Tommy blurts out, and takes a moment to rethink his word choices. “I mean- like- Here. At- y’know- L’manberg- the crater- whatever, Why are you here? I thought y’know, you didn’t care about it?”
He swears for a moment he can see the man wince.
“I just thought I’d come see it. I heard Mother Nature left her claim on the dead, and I wanted to see for myself. Now, why are YOU here?” Wilbur sends the question back to him.
“…I’m honestly not sure. Think i just waltzed over here by accident or some bullshit. I was about to leave though, so if you don’t mind-“
“Why did you say you blame yourself?”
Tommy pauses. “…What do you mean, big guy?”
“You were talking to yourself.” Wilbur teases, but upon seeing no positive reactions, He continues. “And you said you blame yourself sometimes. Why? What for?” His brother inquires.
Tommy just thought for a minute. There were so many reasons he could find a way to blame himself. Not being a better soldier, Not finding Wilbur in time, Not helping him enough, being an absolute prick to his own best friend-
Despite the many reasons, He doesn’t like to think about them.
But he was asked a question.
“I don’t know, man-“ He sighs. “I guess it’s just kinda- y’know- Natural guilt or some shit? I mean like- everyone tends to feel guilty for something at some point, no? This-“ Tommy gestures to the hole in front of them, covered in vines, bushes, flowers, and much more natural claims. “This is mine, I guess?”
“I see. Any specific reasons?”
“what are you, my fuckin’ therapist?”
Wilbur sighs “Look, I’m just trying to have a genuine conversation-“
Tommy groans “You’re so boring, man! Lighten up a little bit, Big dubs! Fuck all this- ‘why are you guilty for getting your home blown up’ bullshit! If you wanna talk pick a nicer topic! Like- Women.”
“I’m not gonna talk to you about women, Tommy.”
“…Men?”
“Wh- no- Tommy, I haven’t seen you in days.” Wilbur said, suddenly sounding- hurt? Worried? Tommy couldn’t place his finger on it- but- why on earth would- “I’ve been worried, Tommy. Where have you been? You couldn’t have possibly just been in your home for nearly a week-“
“On the contrary, Wilbur, I regret to inform you that I have.” He jokes
Wilbur stares at the blonde for a minute. Two. Maybe even three, before-
“You’re fucking kidding.”
“…”
“Oh my fucking god-“
“Look-“
“What the fuck, Tommy?!” Wilbur nearly shouts, but lowers his volume when he can see the younger of the two flinch back. “The hell have you been doing that’s been keeping you in there for days on end now?? I get you’ve got that- fucking- spider-“
“His names Shroud, asshole, treat him with respect!”
“Not the point! That- Shroud- Shouldn’t be keeping you cooped up in your little wooden hut for nearly weeks! The hell is going on with you??”
Tommy goes silent.
It stays silent.
The silence was always loud, but the volumes it spoke were incomparable.
“…Nothing.” He answers.
Wilbur tilts his head slightly to the side, and goes to shake his head and brush him off before Tommy speaks again.
“I mean it! Like- god, I don’t fucking know-“ Tommy cuos his face into his hands and groans in annoyance, before pilling them back to his sides. Only to start throwing them around aimlessly, seconds later. “I just- I haven’t been able to do shit, I guess? And for like- ages now, too! Every time I tried to go out and like- actually do shit for once, It just- It’s like i'm physically incapable to! God fucking knows why, I sure fucking don’t-“ He rambles on. “And I probably would’ve asked for help, problem is, no I fucking wouldn’t have! Because it’s like every time I NEED help- or even just WANT it- Nobody gives a shit! I learned THAT lesson back in fuckin’ exile-“
Tommy could have continued ranting on for weeks.
It only took him around five minutes to get his current thoughts out the bottle they were kept in, though.
And while standing on this shakey wooden bridge, above a perfect illustration of destruction and rebirth, He’s wordless and out of breath.
If it were possible to lose any more breath than he already has though, it would’ve happened when he felt arms close around him gently.
If his thoughts could be any less organized, the mess in his mind would’ve been bigger when he realized those arms were Wilburs.
“…What’re you doing, Wil?”
“fucking hugging you- the hell does it look like I’m doing?”
“okay, well, damn, if you’re gonna be all sarcastic and shit let me go-“
“Shush, child. Give it a moment.” Wilbur mumbled, keeping his chin flat on Tommy's blonde curls.
He started swaying them side to side gently, not letting go of the young boy, but not making it impossible for him to break free himself.
He sighs.
“You’ve been depressed. It’s that simple, Tommy. Could’ve just said that first.” He looks down to the bedrock below them.
“okay, well, maybe I didn’t know that was the correct terminology, prick.” Tommy mumbled, but let himself be swayed.
“You should learn it then. I’m also going to assume it was at least slightly prompted by your dumb little unnecessary guilt you talked about earlier.”
Wilbur sighs
“Look, I- I might not…know. A lot about what happened here after my own destruction of the place-“
“After your death.”
He sighs again. “…Yes, after my death. I don’t know shit about it, honestly. Didn’t care much for finding out those thirteen years. But- I do know that- you’re different from when i died.”
Tommy made a noise of protest, only to immediately be shushed (and maybe followed by Wilbur smacking the back of his head.)
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way, asshole, shut up.” The elder said. “I meant it as in like- you’ve changed. And it’s noticeable. And clearly, it affects you. But I just- All in all, push comes to shove, I want you to know that- whatever the fuck happened while I was gone?” He asks, then clicks his tongue. “Not your fault, Tommy.”
The words stuck with Tommy for a moment. As he stopped staring at the structure of the bridge, moving his attention to the pink, orange, and yellow sunrise to the right of the duo. As he wonders how long they had been there. He thinks about them.
“…I think I might trust you on that one, Wilbur.” He says
Wilbur only smiles in reassurance. “Good. I don’t need my little brother being all sad and shit where I can see it. It’s depressing and boring. Don’t do it again.” He teased
“I- Like it’s my fucking pro- I am going to make the rest of your life a living hell from these days on, Wilbur Soot.”
“Oh? I’m not counting on it.” He laughed.
And as the sun rose higher in the east, the two brothers soon parted. They’d cross paths again soon. It wasn’t goodbye in the slightest. If anything, it was a simple brick added onto the rebuilding, and rebirth, of their previously destroyed bond. From brothers, to near strangers, then back to brothers again, Perhaps.