Chapter Text
Ask anyone who lived in the village of Mellohi what exactly resided in Enderlon Forest and you would get a range of different answers. They all knew the true answer, of course. When you’d come across a fae it was very difficult to see them as anything else. They had an air about them of grace, of superiority, of power, an air that would make just about any mortal drop to their knees and plead for their life. But the villagers described it differently.
The Manifold and the Nihachu families, along with a good ninety percent of the village, referred to them as simply as possible without invoking their names -- dangerous. Young Alex Quackity liked to call them “targets” whenever he was feeling particularly brave -- and usually got a smack on the back of the head and a warning to watch his tongue if his mother heard him. Schlatt, the town drunkard, called them a “fuckin’ menace” in between disappearing to the local tavern and passing out on the floor of his small cottage.
No matter what they called them, however, the villagers all knew to protect themselves as best they could. They carried iron knives at their sides and red berries in their pockets, hung primrose over their front doors and planted St. John’s Wort in their windows. They placed chains of daisies around the necks of their children and sewed iron nails into the hems of their coats. They did all they could think of to place the firmest possible barrier between themselves and the strange, eldritch beings that lurked just outside their borders.
But the Soot family was different.
From a passing glance, there was nothing all that strange about them, truly. Phil and his two sons, Wilbur and Tommy, seemed like any other family. The boys went to school with the other children, Phil ran a small shop selling hunting bows and other weapons that some villagers preferred to defend themselves with, and they lived in a perfectly normal two-story building that served as both their home and Phil’s shop.
But things got strange when you looked closer and started noticing that the two boys lacked any of the trinkets and flower chains the rest of the village wouldn’t dare step outside without. When asked, they would always find some strange allergy for each of the wards -- red berries of any kind gave Wilbur hives for a week, especially holly, and flowers like St. John’s wort and daisies made Tommy’s nose run and eyes itch in seconds. The most interesting -- or, as some put it, damning -- quirk was one of Tommy’s. Iron touching his skin would give him a horrific rash, one that wouldn’t fade for at least a month, if he was lucky.
The family's strangeness only became more suspicious when you started asking after the boys' mother.
Appeared from nowhere, people said. One day, Phil had been a bachelor starting his weapons shop, and the next, he had a wife by his side. She had been beautiful, too, in an almost unearthly way that made some people stare and others look away. That is when she was there to look at. While most people in the village would often gather together in the square and discuss things like the town gossip or the inconvenience of the changing prices of the local market, she was never once spotted amongst them. When some asked Phil where his wife was, he would more often than not shrug and say something like “she’s a freer spirit than most”. When Wilbur was born, he was one of the few sources of true proof of her existence instead of the rumors from the few that had been lucky enough to spot her. Tommy’s arrival six years later was a complete surprise to many, as it had been rumored that she had long disappeared by then. It seemed as if Tommy had appeared completely out of thin air.
Shame about their mother , the adults would murmur to one another as Wilbur and Tommy trailed after their father in the marketplace. Disappeared into the woods and never returned, they said, for they could think of no other explanation.
It didn’t take long for the rumors of a simple disappearance to grow into something distinctly more concerning. They didn’t often say it aloud, especially not within earshot of either Phil or his boys, but it was heard loud and clear in the way parents would subtly push their own children behind them if the boys came too close, in the way their smiles were tight-lipped whenever Wilbur politely greeted those they passed, the way the color drained from their face whenever little Tommy bounded up to strangers and immediately asked for their name, smile wide enough to seem sharp.
Fae children, they would whisper behind the locked doors of their homes. Changeling boys from the forest. Just like their mother. Best to stay away.
But there wasn’t another village other than Mellohi for a good fifty miles, and Phil didn’t seem as if he had any intention of raising his boys anywhere else. Phil had always been a kind man, too kind even to turn out strange fae children who the other villagers knew would only cause trouble. Perhaps it was that no one knew of any better blacksmith, or perhaps it was that they were always within arms reach of an iron blade in the shop should the two boys suddenly try anything, but the people did not turn Phil away.
Instead, they kept their whispers in the house, warned their children against befriending his and tried to ignore their presence as best as they could.
At least, most of them did.
***
Tubbo Underscore hit the ground with a resounding thud, his arms barely managing to shield his face from the blow. Loose dirt flew up into his face at the impact, some managing to find its way into his mouth. Gross.
Behind him, Tubbo could hear Tommy cheering, the gloating bastard. Tubbo rolled over onto his back, letting his arm fall over his face to hide the sight of his best friend celebrating his twelfth consecutive victory.
“That’s right, gentlemen and especially ladies! Thomas Careful Danger Kraken Innit Soot is indeed the biggest man in town!”
“Shut up .” Tubbo groaned and half-heartedly tossed his wooden sword in Tommy’s direction. As if to add insult to his injury, Tommy easily side-stepped it and instead ran over to Tubbo’s side to lean over him, his grin now blocking out part of the sky. Tubbo simply glared back.
“Sucks to suck, huh?” Tommy said and held a hand out in his direction.
“Fuck off,” Tubbo said, but took Tommy’s hand anyway and let him pull him back up to his feet. “I don’t even like swords.”
Or axes. Or bows. Or anything, really.
Tommy scoffed and headed back over to where Tubbo’s wooden sword had landed in the grass. An identical one was in his own hand, so battered and chipped that it was beginning to look less like a practice weapon and more like an old tree branch he found in the forest. They were gifts from Tommy’s father, although gifts was probably the wrong word. More like precautions. Tubbo was sure if Tommy had the chance to grab a sword with a metal blade he would have taken it, and Tubbo would have a lot more accidental scars than he currently did. The incident in the forge six years back that had led to Tubbo’s first lesson about stitches and all of Phil’s swords being put on higher shelves proved that much.
Tommy threw the sword back towards Tubbo, and Tubbo’s fingers fumbled as he attempted to catch it. He did manage to keep it off the ground this time, but only slightly, and Tommy rolled his eyes.
“I know what your problem is, Tubs,” he said and began to walk past him, slapping a hand on his shoulder as he went. “You always assume you’re gonna lose before the fight even begins.”
“Wha -- I do not!” Tubbo said, his cheeks heating up as he followed after Tommy. “I’m just not good at this dueling stuff. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” Tommy said, clearly unconvinced. “Look, man, I’m just saying. You might actually win a fight or two if you quit thinking you’re gonna be the one on the ground every time.”
Tubbo huffed but didn’t try to shoot back a retort as the two of them made their way over to Tommy’s favorite spot in the world, where the two of them usually ended up after a round of sparring that left Tommy exhausted and Tubbo nursing new bruises.
The log lay just on the opposite edge of the border of St. John’s wort that surrounded Enderlon Forest, so close to it that Tubbo’s heart stuttered as Tommy haphazardly threw his legs over the side. The line of flowers, fabled to be planted by the first settlers of Mellohi as a barrier between the forest and their village, was the only thing said to be standing in the way of the fae that lurked inside. Tubbo, at the coaxing and pestering of Tommy, has gotten used to the log as a resting place, but he still chose to face away from the treeline and made sure to keep his feet firmly on one side of the border. Tommy, on the other hand, let his legs swing back and forth, though he was careful to avoid letting his feet touch the canary-yellow petals.
Tubbo brushed some of the dirt off of his shirt, and let his head fall back. As unnerved as he was by the forest lurking not two feet behind him, the beauty of the day put him at ease. The sky was a perfect fading blue above him, only a few fluffy white clouds in sight. The smell of the nearby flowers wafted through the air, and while the wooden log underneath him was uneven and a bit scratchy, it was also familiar. He could feel Tommy’s presence beside him, even without looking, and despite the forest’s best efforts, Tubbo felt safe.
He closed his eyes and simply breathed for a while. The annoyance at his consistent losses on their private battlefield faded as he relaxed, leaving behind the satisfying aftershock of adrenaline in his veins.
Peace, however, never lasted long around Tommy. Not that Tubbo ever wanted it to.
“Dare you to take a step into the forest.”
“ Nope, ” Tubbo said and shoved Tommy’s shoulder. “Not getting pixie-led today, thank you.”
“Fuckin’ buzzkill,” Tommy said and leaned over to pick up a loose pebble from the ground. “You can’t get pixie-led from a step .”
“Says you,” Tubbo said. He tried to keep his eyes on the pebble as Tommy threw it deep into the forest, but the very moment it crossed the border it seemed to almost disappear.
Tubbo could hear it hit the ground gently, somewhere, but his eyes couldn’t seem to find it again. If it did that to a simple pebble, Tubbo doubted that taking a step inside would do him much good.
Tubbo didn’t get why Tommy seemed to like looking into the forest so much. There was nothing to see in there that wouldn’t strike some kind of fear into the hearts of most, and even if Tommy wanted to see something like that, the fae inside rarely ever came close enough to the border to be seen. Still, Tommy dragged Tubbo over to the log as often as he could. The two of them would lean back on their palms, giving themselves splinters almost every time, and Tubbo would watch as Tommy stared off into the forest with a look behind his eyes that Tubbo was too nervous to admit looked like longing.
He was doing it again, with one knee pulled close to his chest and his arm resting loosely on it. Tommy’s other leg was bouncing impatiently, the same way it always did whenever he was sitting down, and he would occasionally reach up to brush stray blonde curls out of his face. He never could sit still for long.
“What do you think is out there?” Tommy asked, but he didn’t break his stare to even glance back in Tubbo’s direction. “Like, say you weren’t a total pussy--”
“Hey!”
“--and took a step off. What do you think you’d find?”
Tubbo took his eyes off his best friend and turned them towards the forest. To any outside passerby, he was sure it would appear to be a completely normal forest. Autumn was just on the horizon. Tubbo could see it as he looked into the trees, little patches of orange and yellow breaking through the seemingly endless green. There was a soft breeze in the air, just cool enough to still be pleasant rather than chilling, but that didn’t mean a chill didn’t run down Tubbo’s spine anyway. The fact that Enderlon Forest looked like any old forest only made it all the more menacing to know what was truly in there.
“Most likely my death.” Tubbo shrugged.
“Boring.”
“What? I’m just being honest.”
“You can’t think of literally anything cooler?” Tommy asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Let’s say you go in there, and it’s just full of beautiful women. Like, so many that not even I could date them all.”
“Yep, and they all want to kill you,” Tubbo said. “Super fun times, you’re right.”
“They’d all fall in love with me on sight,” Tommy insisted and leaned back on his palms. “You don’t get it because you’re not an expert on women, Tubs.”
“Don’t need to be to know that regular women and fae women are two different things.”
“They’re the same where it counts.” Tommy grinned, and Tubbo resisted the urge to shove him again.
“Gross.”
“You know I’m right.”
“I know you think you’re right.”
“What’s the difference?”
Tubbo rolled his eyes and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. The sky above was fading from a kind blue into a darker purple, and the shadows on the ground were beginning to grow larger than Tubbo felt safe in.
“Come on, we’d better get back. It’s getting dark.”
Tommy glanced up to finally notice the darkening sky and dramatically threw his head back, letting out a long sigh as if Tubbo had asked him to help work the forge in Phil’s shop rather than simply stand up and walk back home.
“Phil’s gonna worry, and we have school in the morning--” Tubbo started, and Tommy waved him off.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re starting to sound like Dad,” he said and stood up. He kicked another pebble into the forest and gestured back towards the village. “After you, Tub-womenhater.”
“That’s not even clever.”
***
They made their way back to the village side by side, as per usual. The log wasn’t too far from Mellohi, but the town’s lanterns had been lit by the time they made it back to the edge. Some of the lights in the houses had darkened, but one thing Tubbo cherished about Mellohi was that it never seemed to truly fall asleep. Tubbo wasn’t sure whether that was from the townspeople’s drive to keep busy or a fear of leaving themselves vulnerable to those who resided in the forest, but either way, it was comforting.
It became less comforting as they made their way further into the town square and Tubbo began to notice people shrinking away from the two of them, or more specifically, from Tommy. They were very good at doing it subtly after all their practice, but Tubbo had stood beside Tommy for fourteen of the seventeen years Tommy had endured it and had, in turn, gotten good at noticing when it was happening. An odd step pulling someone just slightly off course to be further away from Tommy, the way conversations grew quieter when he passed, stares seeming to cling to him for longer than necessary.
Tommy, for his credit, ignored it. He always had.
“I’m gonna tell Dad you were being sarcastic with me,” he announced, not bothering to lower his voice in the slightest as the others around them did. “He’ll get me my justice.”
“Yeah, right.” Tubbo snorted. “He’ll probably give me a cookie for my efforts.”
“Will not.”
“Will too,” Tubbo insisted, “and if he doesn’t, Wilbur will.”
“Aw, no fair. You can’t bring Wilbur into this.” Tommy whined. “He always takes your side.”
“Yep, I know.” Tubbo grinned, and Tommy immediately socked him right in the arm. “Ow!”
“Pussy,” Tommy said and raced ahead before Tubbo could get the chance to punch him back. Tubbo was quick to follow. It made it much easier to chase people through the streets when everyone else stayed well out of the path of the person you were chasing even when they weren’t running. As much as he tried, though, Tommy had always been a touch faster than him. Tubbo kept his golden curls in sight easily enough, but actually catching up to him to punch him in the arm wasn’t going to be happening.
Tommy was leaning against the wall beside the door leading into The Crow’s Forge by the time Tubbo finally caught up. He smirked as Tubbo paused to catch his breath, and he didn’t even need to speak for Tubbo to hear the incoming friendly taunt.
“You’re getting out of shape, Tubster.”
“Am not,” Tubbo said. “You’ve just got a weird amount of stanima.”
“...you mean stamina?”
“Whatever.”
Tommy laughed as he pushed open the door, and Tubbo followed him closely inside. Immediate warmth washed over him as he stepped over the threshold and the door closed behind them, and Tubbo held back a comforted sigh. The shop and the Soot house above it were always toasty warm, thanks to Phil keeping the forge running throughout the day. The taste of copper seemed to be permanently present in the air itself, and while some might have found that disturbing, Tubbo found familiarity in it.
“We’re home!” Tommy shouted into the empty storefront and glanced back at Tubbo. “Are you sure you have to go back tonight?”
“Unfortunately.” Tubbo nodded and followed Tommy as he climbed up the stairs into Tommy’s house. “You know how my brother is.”
“I know he’s an asshole,” Tommy muttered and kicked off his shoes as they moved into the room that served as both a living room and a kitchen. There was a small wood-burning stove in the back surrounded by tall cabinets and a wooden dining table with space enough for six taking up the center of the room. The place was a bit of a mess, but in a way that felt lived in. In a way that felt special to Tubbo, like echoes of the people who lived there. One of Wilbur’s old sweaters was hanging off the back of a dining chair, Tommy’s schoolbooks were scattered across the left side of the table, and several strangely-shaped pieces of metal were strewn about the rest of it, evidence of one of Phil’s new projects. “I know you should just ditch him already.”
“You want him coming after you?” Tubbo asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Sure. I could totally take him,” Tommy said. “He’d be drunk anyway. Easy takedown.”
“Sure you could.”
“I could !”
“Could what?”
Both Tommy and Tubbo turned at the sound of a new voice entering the conversation to see Phil standing in the doorway leading into his room, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that implied they could be in some form of trouble depending on whatever it was that they were talking about. But he was also relaxed as he leaned against the doorframe, a simple half-smile on his face and kindness behind his arctic blue eyes, the exact same shade as Tommy’s.
At first glance, it was only that kindness that kept him from being frightening. After decades of working the forge and taking his own weaponry out hunting, Phil had all sorts of battle scars that had a tendency to either frighten or catch the attention of young children he passed. When you stuck around for more than a passing glance, however, you noticed the laugh lines that creased his face when he grinned, the way his calloused hands would carefully handle anything fragile, how he would genuinely listen when children would tell him how their days had been. And for those who really took the time to pay attention, the braid in his hair intertwined with two pieces of thread was another symbol of his true nature. Yellow and red. Wilbur and Tommy. Phil loved them so much that he literally wore it, kept two strings with him at all times to remind himself and everyone around him of his sons, his pride and his joy.
There was a lot that Tubbo wished was different about his life, but above all else, he wished that he could’ve been Phil’s son rather than left behind in Schlatt’s so-called care. To be loved like that, so much that it was worn as a badge of honor?
Tubbo didn’t have the slightest clue what that felt like.
“Oh, hey, Dad!” Tommy said, and he had that all-too-innocent smile on his face that meant he was definitely holding something back. “Where’s Wilbur?”
“Out playing music by the marketplace, I think,” Phil said, the skepticism and wariness clear on his face, but Tubbo still caught the way his mouth twitched at the edges at Tommy’s predictable mischief. “Don’t change the subject, Tommy. Could what ?”
“Oh, right, that.” Tommy said and leaned back against the wall, the innocence disappearing from his smile and turning instead into a mischievous grin. “I’m gonna kick Schlatt’s ass.”
The half-smile on Phil’s face turned to a slight frown, but it didn’t feel as if it were directed at Tommy’s plans.
“Ah. Going home tonight then, Tubbo?” He asked, and Tubbo nodded.
“Yeah. He gets suspicious if I’m not around for a while.”
When he finally notices, at least.
“I could do it, y’know!” Tommy insisted. “Easily. Kick him right in the nuts. He’d be down before he could get a word out.”
“Tommy,” Phil said, in a tone that suggested he’d definitely heard this before, maybe one too many times. “We’ve talked about this. You’re not publicly attacking someone.”
“Who said anything about public?” Tommy asked, and jumped up to sit on the table. “I certainly didn’t say anything about public. Tubbo, did you hear me say anything about public?”
“Nope.” Tubbo said, an easy smile coming over his face. Tommy always had a way of making it easier to smile. “You didn’t.”
“Exactly,” Tommy said, a smug grin on his face as he leaned back on his palms and looked back towards Phil. “I’m gonna find a nice quiet room and kick Schlatt in the balls. It’s a perfect plan.”
“Alright, alright,” Phil said, and while he may have been trying to come across as stern, it didn’t come through with the amused look on his face. “Enough. Why don’t you go help Tubbo get his stuff out of your room?”
“The longer we put it off the longer he gets to stay here.” Tommy retorted, and only then did the amusement in Phil’s expression fade, and the shift in tone made Tubbo’s smile drop as well.
“Tommy. Don’t make it worse for him.”
Tommy frowned, but hopped down off of the table and dusted off his shirt.
“Fine. C’mon, Tubs. Let’s get your shit.”
Tubbo felt kind of like a soldier preparing to head off to the battlefield as he followed Tommy into his room, feeling Phil’s stare on the back of his head. Tommy’s house was more home to him than his own house had ever been, that was for sure, but his house wasn’t really all that bad. Just neglectful, and full of Schlatt’s empty bottles. Most nights, his brother never even noticed whether or not he was there.
Tommy’s room was a mess, but at this point, it was their mess. Thanks to his brother’s indifference towards him, Tubbo could get away with sleeping over at Tommy’s most nights, and it showed in the sheer chaos in the room around them. Tommy’s bed was a tangle of plaid red blankets, plain white sheets, and dirty clothes tossed haphazardly across it despite the hamper sitting in the corner. It used to be a single bed, back when Tubbo was just a little kid following strangers around the marketplace wishing that they’d take him to their home instead of sending him back to his, but around when he’d turned eight it suddenly had a pull-out bed underneath it. Phil hadn’t said anything, but Tubbo had known the moment he’d seen it -- that one was his. It was just as unkempt as Tommy’s, only his was in shades of green rather than red, and his clothes usually just ended up on the floor. Old toy weapons, a deck of cards, and board game pieces were scattered around the floor, and Tubbo was careful to watch where he stepped as he made his way over to the desk to pick up his most prized possession and slip it back around his neck.
The compass had been a gift from Wilbur for his twelfth birthday. On the surface, it looked like a typical steel compass on a chain, with a plain black background and a red needle spinning around in the center. On closer inspection, however, it was easy to notice the slight purple glimmer across the surface, the fact that the needle didn’t point north, and the two words engraved on the back.
Your Tommy.
Tommy had his own labeled as Your Tubbo , one that was sitting on the desk beside Tubbo’s. The needle spun as Tubbo picked his up, shifting just enough to keep pointing towards Tommy’s as Tubbo slipped his back around his neck and tucked it under his shirt.
They’re enchanted, Wilbur had said when he first gave the two of them their gifts, and don't tell anyone that. They always point to each other, so no matter where you are in this bitch of a world, you’ll always be able to find each other.
Tubbo wore it whenever he was away from Tommy, and Tommy did the same.
“How much are you taking?” Tommy asked as he picked Tubbo’s bag up off of the floor and propped it open on his bed.
“Just enough for a night.” Tubbo shrugged and bent down to retrieve a relatively clean shirt off of the floor and toss it into his bag. “I’m not staying for any longer than I have to. Just enough so he sees me there.”
“I mean it, y’know. I’ll kick him in the balls for you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Tubbo said, and he did. Tommy had never been one to lie to him.
As Tubbo continued rooting through his clothes, he heard Tommy plop down on his bed. When Tubbo looked back up again, Tommy was leaning against the windowsill, staring out into the night. That same look that he got whenever he looked at the forest was back, and Tubbo tried not to think about it too much as he packed away a pair of pants. He was just about to close up his bag when Tommy spoke up again.
“You really never think about what could be out there?”
“In the forest?” Tubbo asked, and slung his bag over his shoulder. Tommy nodded in response, but still didn’t look back at him. “No. I mean, sometimes, but not on purpose. Not unless I’m trying to give myself nightmares.”
Tommy was quiet for a while, which would be unsettling enough even if they weren’t talking about Enderlon Forest. Tubbo slowly sat down on the bed, feeling as if moving too fast would shock Tommy out of his thoughts. He was afraid to ask the question on his mind, but there wasn’t really anything else to ask.
“Do you?”
“All the time,” Tommy said and leaned forward to rest his chin on his arms. “It’s weird. I know it’d be suicidal to go out there. I know that. I’m not an idiot. But…”
He trailed off, and Tubbo scooted a bit closer. Tommy wasn’t one to not speak his mind, and while Tubbo didn’t want to interrupt whatever was going through his head, he couldn’t help but ask.
“But what?”
“I don’t know.” Tommy sighed. “It’s like -- okay, this is gonna sound weird as shit, so don’t make fun of me, but it’s like something’s...something’s calling me. Like I’m supposed to be out there.”
Alarm bells started ringing in Tubbo’s mind, but he did his best to ignore them. Yes, that was weird. Yes, it was never a good thing to feel as though a forest full of dangerous fae who made a habit out of toying with and/or killing any human that crossed their path was calling to you. But Tommy had always been a little stranger than most, and the other kids in the village had always taken notice. They wouldn’t let Tommy simply ignore them the way the older villagers did, and as much as Tubbo didn’t like it, he hoped that was all this was.
“I think you’re letting Quackity and his cronies get into your head,” he said. “All the stuff they spout about you going back to where you came from, that’s all bullshit. You come from here.”
“I know that. I’m not a fuckin’ changeling.” Tommy said, a harsher edge to his voice than usual, and Tubbo winced at the shift. A flash of regret crossed Tommy’s face, and it softened again. “Sorry. It’s probably nothing. Just curiosity.”
“Are you sure--”
“Yep. Let’s just drop it.” Tommy shrugged and turned around to let his legs hang over the side of the bed. “Got everything?”
It definitely didn’t seem like something to just drop, but Tommy had that look on his face that he always got when words came out of his mouth that he immediately regretted. Tubbo had seen that look hundreds of times, thanks to Tommy’s inability to ever keep quiet for more than a few moments. Pushing it never helped.
“...yeah. Yeah, I got enough.”
“Awesome,” Tommy said and stood back up, stepping on one of his shirts as he did so. “Can’t keep the devil waiting, yeah?”
“Guess not.” Tubbo said and silently hoped that Tommy was only talking about Schlatt.
***
All of the windows of the little one-story shack that Tubbo had no choice but to call home were dark by the time Tubbo made it to the door, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear yet. He kept as quiet as possible as he entered, only opening the door just wide enough to slip through so he’d avoid the squeak in the hinges. He shut it behind him with a quiet click and turned back around only to see the one person he wanted to avoid.
Schlatt had passed out in the kitchen, sitting at the table. His upper half was sprawled out over the table, and his back was turned towards the door. Even without the bottle still loosely grasped in his fingertips, Tubbo could guess from experience what had happened.
He could see the door leading to his own small bedroom, and quietly crept towards it. Sure, his brother appeared to be out cold, but that didn’t necessarily mean--
“That you, Tubs?”
Son of a bitch.
Tubbo sucked in a deep breath and swiveled on his foot to look his brother in the eyes. He was sitting up now, or sitting up as best as he could. Most of his weight was leaning against the back of his chair, and Tubbo couldn’t help but wonder if he’d even be able to stand up.
“Hey, Schlatt.”
“Where’ve you been?” Schlatt asked, and took another casual swig from the bottle between his fingers. “Haven’t seen you around for...a while, I think.”
“I just went out for a bit today,” Tubbo said, the lie coming all too easily. “After school, you know. Studying with friends.”
“Right. Friends.” Schlatt pushed himself up out of the chair and onto his feet. He stumbled a bit as he approached, but managed to stay upright. “You’re not hanging around that Soot boy again, are you?”
Tubbo wanted to look away, to slam a door between himself and his older brother, to get away from the lingering smell of beer that followed Schlatt wherever he went and ended up clinging to Tubbo in turn. He wanted to run back to the Soots’ and the home that wasn’t his, to crawl under the covers, fall asleep listening to Tommy snoring, and wake up to the smell of Wilbur burning toast. He wanted to pass by Phil on the way out the door to school one morning only to realize that he had a third thread tucked into his braid. Tubbo liked to think it’d be green. Dark green, the same shade as the sign hanging above the door to the Crow’s Forge.
But he couldn’t do any of that, so instead, he steeled himself and looked his brother in the eyes.
“No.”
Schlatt looked him over with a skeptical sort of look on his face, and Tubbo felt as though he was being scanned. If he found anything he didn’t like, however, it didn’t show, because he simply gave Tubbo a slight nod.
“Kid’s a freak,” Schlatt said. “Won’t have him rubbing off on you, understand me?”
Tubbo bit back the retort that came to the front of his mind. Disagreeing would only make this worse, and he’d only just arrived home. The rest of the night still stretched out in front of him, and it could either be a quiet one locked in his room, or a loud one.
“Yeah, I know.”
“No brother of mine’s gonna run off and get himself mixed up with the damn fae.” Schlatt continued, and Tubbo didn’t think Schlatt was entirely talking to him anymore. “A fuckin’ menace, all of ‘em. Takin’ people whenever they see fit and leaving the rest of us behind to pick up the pieces.”
Tubbo nodded silently, and finally let his eyes cast to the floor. His fingers subtly tapped against the strap of his backpack, silently counting down the seconds to see how long Schlatt’s fae rant would last this time. If he was lucky, perhaps Schlatt would remember it was a school night, and Tubbo would be spared the full story of what happened to their parents. Taken by the fae when Tubbo was barely more than a few months old, Schlatt always said, leaving him at just eleven, stuck with a stupid fuckin’ kid to raise.
Sometimes Tubbo wondered if Schlatt forgot that the stupid fucking kid in question was standing right in front of him.
He let his thoughts wander, not listening in the slightest to his brother’s words, and those thoughts led him straight back to Tommy. Tubbo had been telling the truth earlier -- he didn’t believe anything Quackity or the others in the village said. Tommy wasn’t a changeling, he just had weird allergies. It was a coincidence, nothing more, but that didn’t make Tommy’s claims about the forest any less scary. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about something in Enderlon Forest calling out to his best friend, maybe something dangerous that had spotted them near the forest edge and taken an interest. Some people in the village spoke of those sorts of things happening, and every once in a while, the tales would come true. Just a few years back, the village had mourned the loss of a girl named Hannah, who’d wandered off into the woods after claiming to hear beautiful melodies singing to her. Tubbo had only been eleven at the time, but he could remember most of that day with surprising clarity --
“Are you listening to me?”
Tubbo jumped, his attention snapping back to the present moment. His brother was glaring down at him, and Tubbo silently cursed his wandering mind.
“Yeah, of course--”
“Don’t lie.” Schlatt said, and Tubbo flinched at the sudden sharp edge to his voice. A voice in his head, one that sounded suspiciously like Tommy, piped up with another retort that he wouldn’t dare say out loud.
Funny. You hate the fae so much, yet you’d like me to start acting like one.
His brother paused at the flinch and reached forward to lift Tubbo’s chin up. Tubbo did his best not to pull away on instinct and met Schlatt’s eyes only to find something rare. It was softer. Not quite loving, but something that Tubbo thought might be the closest his brother could get.
“You know I only want to protect you?” Schlatt said. “That family’s nothing but trouble, and we’ve had enough trouble from the fae as it is.”
“I know.” Tubbo said, even as his fingers curled into fists against the thought. Maybe he could believe Schlatt wanted to protect him, if he didn’t drown himself in the first bottle of whiskey he could get his hands on every night. If he paid enough attention to know where he’d even been. If he didn’t look at Tubbo as if he were just another thing tacked onto the end of a very long list of tedious chores.
His words seemed to be enough for Schlatt for the moment, however, and he let go of Tubbo’s chin.
“Good,” Schlatt said and looked him over once more before draining the last of his bottle. Tubbo stared at the bottle and found himself wishing that it would shatter. “Now, off to bed. Tomorrow’s...you’ve got...”
“It’s Friday.” Tubbo answered, his voice clipped. “I’ve got school.”
“Right. That.” Schlatt said and headed back towards the table. “Go on.”
Tension released in Tubbo’s shoulders immediately, and the grip on his bag loosened ever so slightly as the reprieve left his brother’s lips. He nodded his head in a silent goodnight, and with nothing short of pure relief, headed straight into his small room. It was only when he finally shut the door, putting up a solid wall between himself and his brother, that he felt like he could breathe.
That relief only lasted a few moments as he turned around and was met with the pathetic reminder of the space that was supposed to be his. The whole room was barely bigger than a broom closet. His bed was on the floor in the corner, and a threadbare blanket that was older than he was covered only about half of it. There was just enough space left over for a tiny, broken set of drawers, in which Tubbo had long stopped keeping anything. The only light in the room came from a single oil lamp he kept on top of the dresser, and the window above the bed that let in some of the moonlight.
Tubbo sighed, and let himself fall forward into his bed. It was just as cold and lumpy as he remembered, and he dropped his bag on the floor next to him.
Home sweet home.
Tubbo pulled the tattered blanket tightly around him as he did his best to get even remotely close to comfortable. His thoughts began wandering again as he did so, and he found himself staring out his one tiny window at the stars, his mind racing with worry.
If something in the forest truly was calling to Tommy, how long did he have left? How long until whatever eldritch beast had taken a liking to him snatched him away, leaving behind nothing but memories to prove he even existed? How long would it be until Tubbo lost the only friend he had in the village?
Tubbo shook his head once, twice, doing his best to will the thoughts away. He was being paranoid, that was all. Tommy had said that he knew it wasn’t safe to go in the forest. He knew how dangerous it was, and even if he didn’t, he was smart enough not to follow some mysterious voice. Hell, maybe it wasn’t even really a voice. Maybe Tommy’s allergies were acting up again and giving him some weird side effects, like some kind of borderline-nauseous feeling that Tommy was mistaking for a pull towards the forest. It was nothing.
Tubbo reached for the chain around his neck and pulled out his compass. The moonlight reflected off the glass face and seemed to almost enhance the shimmering purple magic that spread over its surface. Tubbo thumbed at the glass, watching as the little red needle shifted ever so slightly to the left and right, keeping track of where Tommy was.
Tommy would be fine. He always had been.
Tubbo fell asleep with a compass enclosed in his fist and his stomach tied in knots.