Work Text:
1.
“Hey, Tommy,” Wilbur called, waving to the blonde boy ahead of him. Tommy, dressed in his usual blue coat, sprinted over to Wilbur.
Tommy, his sunshine.
Wilbur had to repress the fond grin that threatened to take over his face. It’d been a few weeks now since he’d seen Tommy. Lovejoy rehearsals and recording had gotten more frequent, meaning the two communicated mainly over discord.
Not that he minded, he loved his band. Everything about the experience was exciting and fun. This was his dream. Yet, he longed for his younger brother. The boy he adored wouldn’t stop messaging him. Whenever he got the chance, he’d scroll through a vast wall of texts that Tommy had sent.
Whether it be what he was doing, how he was, plans for a stream, and when he would see Wilbur next. The latter messages were Wilbur’s favourite because Tommy, with the loud and angry persona of TommyInnit, was a sweetheart.
Late nights he confessed how much he missed Wilbur. They would call before falling asleep, both exhausted but never of each other.
“Wilbur!” Tommy exclaimed, standing a few inches shorter than him. Wilbur positively gleamed, ruffling the unkempt curls. Tommy snorted humorously, his cheeks flaring pink, pushing the older boy away.
“Alright, dickhead.” He mumbled, something hummed deep in Wilbur’s chest, and all he wanted to do was pull Tommy into a brotherly embrace.
A warm hug, a silent confession that the boy had been missed dearly. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to express how he felt. The adoration and love for his brother hit him all at once every time they were together. Yet, he gestured to the exit of the station.
Tommy’s wide grin fell into a soft smile. Wilbur pretended he didn’t notice the hint of dejection in his expression.
Was it the lack of physical contact in the past that made Wilbur doubt whether he should hug Tommy? Probably, any other explanation wouldn’t make sense. All he wanted was to bundle the boy up, squeeze him tightly and tell him just how much he loved him.
That didn’t happen. Instead, Tommy and Wilbur left the station together, walking side by side.
2.
They were at the watercourse; Tommy had just finished filming his vlog, and now Tommy and Wilbur sat side by side. Wilbur had a towel thrown over his back, the suit he wore still soaked. But unfortunately, the towel didn’t do much to dry him.
“That was so fuckin’ fun,” Tommy boasted, ranting and raving to Wilbur, speaking ten miles per minute. George had wandered off, probably to get food per Tommy’s demand. The boy was hungry, and George was happy enough to cave and get the three of them an early supper.
Tommy was grinning brightly, excitement laced his words, and despite his quick speech and constant off-topic rambling, Wilbur hung on to every word. The occasional quip was made by him, but other than that, all he did was listen. That’s all he wanted to do. Tommy’s excitement was contagious. Moments like this, with Wilbur and Tommy sitting beside one another, would be stored in both of their minds forever.
A memory that would be fondly shared on a stream accidentally by Wilbur, Tommy in call in the background yelling loudly about how it was untrue. They both lived for those moments, falling into a familiar pattern of acting like brothers every time they streamed together.
Wilbur hummed, “Even with the suit, it was still fun.” Tommy chuckled, “Yeah, thanks for doing that, man. I hope everyone makes fun of you on Twitter.” He smirks. Wilbur can only roll his eyes at the boy. They sat in silence for a minute. The yells of children who had taken over the aquatic course after were the only noise around them.
“Hey, Wil?” Tommy broke the quiet. Wilbur caught eyes with the younger, “What is it, Toms?”
“You did have fun, yeah? It wasn’t all for the bit?”
Wilbur snorted, nudging Tommy, but he softened his expression upon seeing his serious stare. “Course I did, you know I’d never lie to you about a vlog. But, genuinely, this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”
“Really?”
“I got to spend the day with Tom Simons, which means it was the best day ever.” He said gently. Tommy’s breath hitched. The small, shaky smile on his face said enough about how he was feeling. Tommy had doubted his work, and pestering his friends after a recording wasn’t uncommon for him. Wilbur couldn’t recount the number of times he’d reassured his pseudo brother that his content was terrific.
When he glanced over at his best friend, his brother, the same feeling from at the station hit him like a ton of bricks. Tommy looks at the ground, cheeks pink as he loses himself in his thoughts. “Thanks, Wil. That means a lot.”
“Tom-”
“Hey guys,” Tommy diverts his attention elsewhere to a man holding two bowls of hot chips. “Gogy!” Tommy exclaims, standing up abruptly and making his way over to George. Wilbur waved George and Tommy over again to sit.
As the sunset, the three of them ate together. All that mattered was that Tommy seemed happier. He laughed at his own jokes and insults he shot at them and stuck out his tongue childishly at Wilbur and George when they poked fun at him.
It was a good day, but the lonely feeling never left Wilbur’s chest, and when he was dropped off at his flat, he resisted the urge to DM Tommy to let him know just how special he really was.
3.
“Phil!” Tommy exclaimed, sprinting to jump into the arms of Phil. The older man chuckled, holding Tommy close before releasing him. Tommy looked disappointed by this, but his expression shifted into one of glee.
Wilbur gave Phil a small wave, and Phil’s comforting smile was enough to relieve Wilbur of the everyday stress that plagued him. Next, he greeted Kristin but was cut off when Tommy launched forward. She held out her arms for him and giggled when his arms wrapped securely around her torso.
“Hey mate, how’s he been today?” Phil asked, gesturing to Tommy. He approached him with his hands stuffed into his coat pockets and leaving the two to their coddling. The boy in question retorted something in return, it was muffled by Kristin’s coat that his face was buried into.
Wilbur smirked, “The same as always, we’ve been out for a few hours. I’ve been showing him the highlights of Brighton.” Tommy, now free from the grip of Phil’s wife, nudged himself between the two men conversing.
He was facing Phil with his back toward Wilbur. “Wilbur was being a little bitch. That’s what he means when he says the same as always.” Tommy scoffed, Phil cackled, and Kristin joined in with his laughter when the smile on Wilbur’s face fell into a soft glare directed at the youngest.
In the act of both affection and annoyance, Wilbur put a hand on Tommy’s head, scratching at his scalp and tousling the blonde curls. Tommy brought both hands to his head, cursing the older out. Wilbur resisted the urge to punch Tommy to shut him up when individuals around him stared in their direction at the language he was using.
“Look what I got, Phil.” Tommy piped. Though unknowingly receiving an uncomfortable amount of attention, Tommy acted as if they were the only four on the streets. Strapped around his neck was a polaroid camera. The day they met Logan Paul, Tommy took polaroid photos all day. He plastered them around his office that same evening. Wilbur would tease him whenever Tommy was in his office with his camera on, the polaroid photo of Wilbur and Tommy propped up on one of his shelves.
“It’s like a family photo, right Wil?” Tommy would say, and Wilbur, the same as always, would respond with, “I’ll cry.” This reaction was enough to cause Tommy to continuously mock him and compare every sibling pair he could think of, both in television and real-life, to the two of them.
“Come on, let’s go for a walk.” Kristin urged, dragging the other three along the shoreline. Tommy was chatting absentmindedly about anything and everything, Wilbur walking beside Tommy and occasionally grabbing him by the shirt to ensure he didn’t topple over into the cold waters.
As much as he threatened to throw Tommy in, he wouldn’t. Not when he knew if Tommy were to get sick, Wilbur would be the one taking care of him, to the demands of Tommy.
Phil and Kristin listened on, taking in the scenery and taking photos of birds or shells they’d find along the walk. The particular image Phil hadn’t asked to stop to take was the one of Tommy and Wilbur, the two-walking side by side. Wilbur had his head tilted back, laughing loudly at something Tommy had said.
Tommy, however, looked at the beanie clad man as if he held the stars in the sky. Wilbur and Tommy had a connection Phil couldn’t begin to understand. They latched on to one another, and Phil had never heard Wilbur laugh as loud and as hard as he did when around Tommy.
It was endearing, and Phil would tell them that when they demanded to see the photos later and came across it.
“Hey, let’s use your camera, Tommy,” Kristin said. Tommy paused, nodding his head with a smile. “Let me get one of you boys. Twitter will have a field day.” Phil chuckled, and Tommy handed his camera over, agreeing.
After the basic tutorial he gave Kristin on using it, they got into position, and she snapped the photo. As it developed, they continued to take others, Tommy more than happy to use his film on ‘The Philza Minecraft’. Tommy shook them in eagerness for their development. Kristin was also excitedly watching them slowly fade in.
The afternoon went quicker than Wilbur hoped. Before he’d left, Tommy handed him one of the polaroids of him, Tommy and Phil, and when he got home, he shivered.
Wilbur looked longingly at the polaroid photo. Phil stood in the middle of the three of them. Tommy latched onto Phil with a bright smile shot toward the camera while Wilbur stood beside them with an awkward but sincere grin on his face.
His heart clenched, the familiar yearning for affectionate touch hit him. Then, moving to his discord, he was met with a message.
“Thanks for today, big man.
See you soon, yeah?”
4.
“Oh baby, it’s called burnout, Toms. You need to rest.” Wilbur pleaded. Technoblade hummed in agreement. The boy’s eyes glossed over. Even Technoblade’s camera was on to comfort Tommy.
Wilbur had been sitting at his desk, as usual. He was prepared to stream, only waiting for Tommy to join. So, Wilbur was sitting in one of their group calls in the Sleepy Boi’s group chat. Technoblade was scheduled to join any minute now, so he sent a chain of messages to Tommy while he waited.
Tommy didn’t respond. His status was either set to invisible, or he was offline. Wilbur didn’t dote on it too much; he would speak to the boy in a couple of minutes anyway. “Wilbur?” Technoblade’s voice chimed through his earphones.
“Techno!” Wilbur beamed, “How are you, man?” That sparked a conversation about their days. Wilbur rambling on and on about an issue with one of his roommates, and Technoblade chuckling, cutting in with his own thoughts every so often. It was nice.
Then, Tommy joined. Wilbur felt his insides warm the minute the youngest joined, acknowledging him with a loud, “Hey Tommy.” Technoblade snorted, “Hello, Tommy.”
Tommy was quiet until he coughed, stuttering out his own form of greeting. “Sup, Wil, Techno.” Wilbur’s breath hitched at the shakiness of his voice, immediately he turned on his camera. He heard the groan from Tommy’s end, Technoblade, apparently getting the hint also loaded in seconds later.
“Is this a camera required call?” Tommy asked. The silence in response and concerned looks from Wilbur and Techno made him huff and oblige.
Tommy looked… gloomy. The bags under his eyes and the tear-streaked cheeks said enough. The usual light in his expression had dimmed, leaving a drained teenager who looked on the brink of death. “Are you alright, Toms?” Wilbur questioned, a sudden willingness to get whatever negative thoughts going around in the boy’s head out.
Tommy gave them a weak excuse of a smile, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you really, Tommy?”
And then the tears fell, and Technoblade and Wilbur watched, heartbroken at the sight of their youngest member with tears streaming down his cheeks and an absolutely shattered expression on his face. That’s when Tommy had explained the burnout. “I’m so tired, Wilbur,” Tommy admitted mournfully.
“I want a hug.” He whispered, wiping his face with both hands and releasing a low whine. The call was silent, except for the sobs of Tommy and the small sounds coming from Wilbur’s end as he listened to his brother cry like he hadn’t in forever.
Tommy’s words made his chest ache. A hug, Tommy wanted a hug. Wilbur wanted nothing more than to take the train to Nottingham and embrace the boy he’d been so scared to before.
“Where’s your parents? Do I need to come over?” Wilbur frowned. Tommy pried his hands away from his face. Their eyes met, blue meeting brown. Tommy shook his head, “No, Wil, I’m okay. There’s just been a lot on my plate recently.”
“Talk to us, kid,” Technoblade spoke. Tommy sniffled and sunk down further into his chair, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “I have so much editing to do. I’ve got an essay due tomorrow about the elements of film that I haven’t started,” Tommy exhaled shakily, running a hand through his curls.
“There’s kids at school making fun of me again, and I’ve not been feeling very well today.” Tommy finished; the call was silent again. Technoblade was tense, and Wilbur looked furious.
Tommy looked horrified at the admission, “I’ve fuckin’-” A chuckle that sounded like a sob left his lips, “I’ve spent five minutes fucking complaining.” Then, he groaned, “I’m grateful. Believe me, I am.” Wilbur didn’t want to see Tommy like this. This went beyond burnout. Apparently, there was bullying involved, and Wilbur would not watch his brother break down over some insecure teenagers he went to school with.
“Sorry to gloss over the other things, Toms. We’ll go back to them. Kids are fucking doing what?” Wilbur frowned. Tommy shook his head, quieting down and drawing out a long sigh. “It doesn’t matter. Start your stream.” Wilbur looked at the boy in disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing together in concern.
“Tommy, I’m not fucking streaming when you’re crying!” He exclaimed,
“Start your fucking stream, Wilbur.” Tommy spat. His breathing was uneven, his tone harsh. Tommy was shutting down on him. Truthfully, he didn’t care about the stream. He could stream anytime, right now, he wanted to make sure his brother was okay. “Tommy-” Wilbur started, but Technoblade spoke over him.
“Wilbur,” he said, and Wilbur slumped his shoulders. He knew they would talk about it later, but he didn’t want Tommy to force a smile for a silly Minecraft stream. Finally, Wilbur sighed, giving in. With one last look at the grumpy boy, he started the stream with a half-smile.
The other two in the call turned off their cameras, and if the tension was thick enough to slice with a knife, none of them brought it up.
5.
Wilbur was sure this would be the last time he’d go without a hug from Tommy. The two had been streaming together, but Tommy was more quiet than usual. When Wilbur tried to approach the subject of the teenager’s dimmed mood, Tommy shut down.
Even after the stream, the air was thick and tense. The two sat in silence. Wilbur sat silently in his seat, only able to hear the soft breaths and click-clacking of the keyboard on the other end.
That was enough reassurance of Tommy being there. However, something was bothering the boy, and Wilbur was eager to get to the bottom of this to see the bright smile of his brother once more.
Wilbur thought about the stream the other day. Tommy had again been upset, the same as today. Wilbur and Technoblade had spoken to Phil after. Phil, of course, had noticed, pointing out that from his perspective, it was an uncomfortable hour and a half for the audience.
Twitter after the stream had speculated the three had fought beforehand and were simply streaming together to keep the fans happy. In all honesty, Wilbur knew Tommy wasn’t angry with them at all. Nevertheless, something was wrong, and Wilbur would be a poor older brother if he didn’t notice the apparent decline in Tommy’s mood these last few days.
So, he devised a plan.
“Toms,”
“Hm?” The typing didn’t stop, Tommy half distracted with whatever else he was doing.
“Come to Brighton this weekend?”
+1
Wilbur had one goal in mind today. He was going to give TommyInnit a hug he deserved. Usually, Wilbur would recoil from any sort of physical touch. He wasn’t one for hugs, but whenever he thought of Tommy, that feeling of pure adoration and need to hold him close hit, and today it hit harder than ever.
Tommy was always respectful, never questioning why Wilbur didn’t initiate the same touch as Tommy did with their friends. Instead, Tommy kept the man as close as he could, at a distance where they were both comfortable.
When Wilbur left, he picked up Ash on the way. Tommy loved the company of Ash, and Ash cherished the boy as much as everybody else did. They lingered around the Brighton pier, awaiting the familiar model of Tommy’s father’s car to pull up and a blonde teenager to poke his head out of the open window and yell Wilbur’s name.
When the car pulled up, Tommy stepped out, he hesitated, but the minute he spotted Wilbur, he sprinted toward him. This time, instead of the ‘Hello, Tommy,” he would usually say, waving him in his direction until they were face to face, both longing for the comfort and touch from a brother, Wilbur held out his arms.
“Tommy!” Wilbur exclaimed; his arms were immediately full. Tommy’s arms tightened around the elder’s waist, grasping at his back and nestling into the familiar beige sweater that Wilbur always wore. “Hey,” Wilbur whispered, moving his hand to the curls beneath his chin and gently scratching the boy’s scalp as he had many times before. Except, this time, he held Tommy closer than ever as if the minute he let go, it would be their first but final hug.
Tommy was unusually quiet, only sinking further into the embrace, and Wilbur was more than happy to stand there and hold him tight. “Hey,” Tommy replied. His voice was muffled by the sweater his face was buried in, but Wilbur still caught it.
They stayed like that, Wilbur nestling his chin on top of Tommy’s head, the messy curls tickling his face. Tommy’s head remained bowed, his fingers clutching Wilbur’s sweater like his best friend would disappear if he were to let go. The older man chuckled, pulling him impossibly closer until a cough was heard behind them. Wilbur turned his head to see Ash with an amused expression on his face. His eyes shone with something fond.
Tommy perked up, and upon spotting Ash, he released his grip, which caused Wilbur to frown. Tommy launched at Ash next and gave him a short hug which he quickly reciprocated. “Hello, Tommy.” Ash greeted politely. The broad smile on the teenager’s face made them grin at one another. Tommy grabbed the sleeves of both of their sweaters.
“Where to first, boys?”
The plan was for Tommy to stay in Brighton with Wilbur while his parents were away. They would only be gone for a day, but Wilbur was quick to offer his flat, not liking the idea of Tommy being left by himself.
Wilbur smiled, pushing down the urge to gather Tommy back into his arms and stay there. “Well, I was thinking that we could go out to lunch.”
-
“This feeling sucks, Wil.”
Wilbur opened his arms, staring at Tommy with an intense expression. Tommy paused, his eyes carefully scanning over Wilbur’s face. Then, for the fifth time that day, he tackled Wilbur into a hug. Tommy sunk into the embrace, curling up under the older man’s chin and enjoying the feeling of being held.
“I know, Tommy,” Wilbur whispered, leaving a gentle kiss on the crown of Tommy's head and shutting his eyes. The television played quietly in the background, not disturbing the peace of the moment. “You know,” he said, pulling the teen closer. “I love you,” Tommy’s eyes welled with tears, cheeks flaring pink.
His lip trembled, and he stretched outwards on the couch to lay beside Wilbur. Wilbur hummed contently, running a hand up and down Tommy’s back to hush him. The affection was almost overwhelming, but he couldn’t help but crave for more. Tommy wanted to be loved, to be held tightly, for somebody to whisper sweet nothings as he buried his face into a sweater smelling of cinnamon and cologne.
Wilbur’s sweater. Tommy clutched at the fabric, the soft cotton beneath his grip. Then, pulling himself impossibly close to Wilbur, their legs tangled together, and arms wrapped around each other as if something was threatening to tear the two apart. It was when Wilbur nestled his chin into the unkempt curls that Tommy fully relaxed, his body falling lax in Wilbur’s hold.
Wilbur chuckled, “You’re a sweetheart,” he cooed, smoothing a hand over Tommy’s forehead to tuck away a strand that had fallen flat. Tommy shut his eyes, lips parted and nestled his face against the fabric of the sweater.
They fell into a comfortable silence, Wilbur tugging the teen tighter into his hold when necessary and Tommy as close as he could be to Wilbur, his breathing pattern slow but steady.
He fell asleep instantly. Wilbur wondered when the boy last got a good night of sleep. Wilbur’s fingers threading through his hair gently, his eyes trained on the television with Tommy curled into him, sleeping soundly. It was late, the younger boy was exhausted, and Wilbur’s face broke out into a fond grin when a quiet noise left Tommy’s lips.
The noise was followed by another set of soft snores. Tommy, at this moment, looked the most relaxed he’d looked all day. Doing the vlogs tired them all out. Tommy coming to his flat afterwards to watch a movie or simply eat dinner was their favourite way to end a day. Spending one on one time together, the clingy parts of both satisfied even if it was for as little as an hour.
They loved their friends, but both needed their social battery to be recharged. So Wilbur forced Tommy to relax. Tommy was happy to comply. Moments like this with the boy sleeping in his arms were going to be his favourite, Wilbur thought.
Wilbur shuffled slightly, pulling out his phone from his pocket. He moved it so he could rest his chin on Tommy’s head, his arms still protectively surrounding the boy with his phone in his hands. Then, sending a quick text to Tommy’s dad, he told him that Tommy would probably stay for the night. His dad had already expected that. Sending Wilbur a thumbs-up emoji.
He hummed, pleased. Dropping his phone on the plush carpet with no energy to move or put it somewhere safe. Tommy was sweet, sickly sweet. He held Wilbur close, not only physically, but Tommy also held onto him entirely.
Wilbur shut his eyes, his lip twitched upwards into a slight grin, and he, too, fell asleep.
-
Tommy woke up, and the realisation that he’d fallen asleep cuddling Wilbur made him panic. The feeling was eased when he glanced up, and Wilbur’s sleeping face filled his view. A lazy arm was swung around Tommy’s waist, his other arm underneath him, his hand hanging off the couch.
Wilbur was quiet as he slept, and Tommy stilled to try not to wake him. Then, slowly, he shuffled his body to face the television. It was playing a movie he didn’t recognise, and the audio was too quiet but moving was out of the question.
He didn’t want to move, not when for the first time in ages had he been in the arms of somebody he loved. Loved so dearly that he couldn’t bear to stay away for longer than a few days at most. Wilbur was his brother, in all but blood. So it wasn’t rare to wake up like this, with Wilbur beside him, but he’d never woken up in his embrace before.
He couldn’t help but feel giddy, Wilbur wasn’t a big hugger, and Tommy was almost sure the man hated any sort of physical touch. Whenever they spent time together, they were shoulder to shoulder almost the entire time, but they never found themselves in a situation like this one. Tommy was pleasantly surprised by how wrong he’d been.
A movie played on the television, Tommy was barely paying attention, his mind still fuzzy from exhaustion. His head rested on the edge of the pillow that the two of them shared. Wilbur was still silently sleeping beside him.
Ten minutes must’ve passed, Tommy zoning in and out on the movie on the screen when Wilbur shuffled. Arms pulled him into a chest, he slumped into the hold. Wilbur hummed, resting his head on top of Tommy’s. The older man wore the same affectionate smile on his face that Tommy did.
“Hey Wil, sleep well?” Tommy whispered, holding onto the arms around him. Wilbur tightened his hold, mumbling something incomprehensible. Tommy’s heart warmed, with the strongest feeling of fondness and love he’d felt in a long time.