Chapter Text
“Oi kid, what do you think you’re doing?”
Shit.
So you know that moment you realise you fucked up? Well that’s exactly where Tommy was right now.
“Uh, shopping?” He replies hesitantly, staring at some random magazines as if he was considering buying them. (He wasn’t.) Technically speaking, he’s not lying, he’s in the local corner shop and he came to do exactly that, to shop.
“What have you got there?”
Well that was until he saw it.
“Look big man, I don’t want any trouble, just browsing, you know how it is,” Finally looking up at the man behind the counter. This man had to be in his thirties at least, with features Tommy didn't care to consider in his carefully crafted nonchalance.
“No, I don’t know ‘how it is’, stealing isn’t really my thing.” He deadpanned.
“I’m not- You can’t just accuse me of theft, that’s probably a crime you know.”
“Yeah well you know what’s definitely a crime? Stealing. Hand me that keychain.” Yeah so maybe Tommy made an attempt at taking a wooden guitar keychain because he was a dollar short, and maybe it backfired. And just maybe this occurred because it reminded him of his musician brother who was apparently too good to hang out with him now.
“Wh- I didn’t-”
“I’ll cut you a deal since you’re clearly no older than fifteen,” - Tommy clenched his fist because he is not a child. - “You take that keychain out your pocket and I won’t call the police, just your parents.”
“Parent. Just the one.” Tommy looked away.
“Look, kid, I don’t care, I’m just trying to do my job here.”
“And I’m just trying to shop.” He shot back, glancing around the shop, assessing his options, before giving the shopkeeper a sharp look when he heard the man scoff, “Dude it’s a keychain, are you really gonna miss it that much?”
“That’s not the point, stealing is punishable by law.”
The man sounded bored out of his mind. There was no way he gave a shit about some small piece of carved wood, he was just riling Tommy up.
“That’s such bullshit,” Tommy mumbled to himself.
“Okay, I’m gonna need the number of that parent.”
No, seriously, the man looked like he was about to fall asleep on his feet. He didn’t care whatsoever, his apathy was written clear as day across his facial features - even his tone of voice - and yet he was still pestering Tommy over an item worth a single lost dollar to him but a million heartbreaks to Tommy. That’s not exactly a great argument though, so the blonde kept himself from speaking up on this.
“But I’m just a dollar short, is it really necessary to call my Dad?”
He called his dad.
Tommy had to give the man Phil’s number because there was no way he could have ran without getting caught, and he didn’t want to give up the keychain and risk never seeing it again, as pathetic as that sounded. The second he saw it, he knew it had to be his. He initially considered whether a keychain was really worth the hassle, perhaps it wasn’t, but that thought dissipated almost as quickly as it occurred. The keychain was the perfect embodiment of how his brother used to be, how his family used to be, how life used to be. How his brother, Wilbur, would sing Tommy to sleep, strumming his guitar strings, and how his other brother, Techno, would read silently, sitting with them, basking in their company, how Phil would walk in to find his boys cuddled on the youngest's bed, smiling softly. It was so eerily reminiscent, he just simply felt he couldn’t leave without it. So when Phil showed up and paid for the keychain, Tommy was eternally grateful.
Well until they got home and he was lectured to the moon and back. Seriously why was Phil still talking about this? It’d been like twenty minutes. By now they were already eating dinner at the kitchen table with Techno and Wilbur, having picked up takeaway food on the way home.
“-So why are you stealing Tommy? You’re so much better than this,” Phil asked after a long lecture that bored Tommy to all hell and back.
“I was just a dollar short, I didn’t think it would matter,” He shrugged, pretending his father’s disappointment didn’t affect him.
“Of course it matters Tommy.” Phil sounded exasperated, yet he barely raised his voice.
“I’m sorry Dad, it won’t happen again.”
“Damn right it won’t.”
“What I don’t get is why you wouldn’t just wait until the next time you go there to buy it instead of outright stealing,” Wilbur chimed in after a moment of silence, running a hand atop his conditioned brown hair to be sure that his hour of work on it this morning was still evident. Tommy would never understand why he spent so much time perfecting his hair, as someone who rarely even brushed his own.
“Yeah, well I wasn’t really thinking.” Tommy grumbled, poking his rice with a fork.
“Clearly,” Techno snorted, his long pink hair tied in a messy plait to keep it from falling in his face, despite the front strands rebelling against that very thing, and instead framing it.
Technoblade and Wilbur were twins but they couldn’t be more different. They were divergent. Techno was intimidating, unexpressive and didn't take any shit, while Wilbur was quite the opposite. He’s sensitive, dramatic and would be the one to cause said shit. Though they did agree on some things, teasing their little brother being a prime example.
“Gremlin child.” Wilbur knew how to push Tommy’s buttons. Tommy was not a child.
“I’m not a child."
"Yes you are.”
"I’m literally sixteen.”
“You’re telling me sixteen is grown?” Techno questioned, the shadow of a smile present on his face.
“Yes! I’m a big man. The biggest man.”
“Sure…” Wilbur was smirking in that mischievous way he did when he knew things were going his way, before adding, “Little baby man.”
“Wil shut up man, just- I’m not a child, okay?”
“Great argument there bud, should join the debate team.” Techno joked, while Wilbur spoke at the same time with a retort designed to annoy the youngest of the group, “I mean you kinda are.”
Tommy rolled his eyes, “Right, my bad for not being old like you guys.”
Wilbur scoffed dramatically, “We are four years older than you, if anything Phil’s the old one.”
“Hey, leave me out of this!” Phil defended light-heartedly, with a mouthful of food.
Tommy rolled his eyes at his family before turning his attention back to his plate, tuning out the conversation, having heard this debate many times before.
Despite how annoying they were, it’s nice to feel like his family were still present, as if they were always around. This sense of normalcy never lasted though. Techno has always preferred the company of the local library where he would lose himself in a book, Phil was either working in his home office, at a meeting or sleeping to make up for overworking himself, while Wilbur was so focused on making music that he forgets it used to be the glue that held the family together.
He had this thing when they were younger, when their mother was still alive, where he would force all of them to stop what they were doing to listen to his latest songs, even if all he had were a couple of lines. There was no choice in the matter, if it was time to listen to Wilbur's music then it was time to listen to Wilbur's music, there was no way out of it. Though Tommy would tease him for it, it was always his favourite part of the week.
Well, until it stopped.
It was a gradual thing, he guesses his lyrics became too personal to share because over time he shared his music less and less. Every week became every month, every month became every few months and before long they stopped completely. The only way you’d hear would be to sit outside of Wilbur’s room quietly, hoping he didn’t catch you peeking and tell you to ‘get lost’ (Tommy would deny it until the end of time if asked but this happened, on numerous occasions).
No one brought it up, so Tommy didn’t either, though it still nagged at the back of his mind to this day.
Why didn’t his family spend time together anymore?
When Tommy finished his meal, he practically sprinted to his room to avoid the disapproving looks his father was giving him from across the table. His bedroom was the door to the right as you near the top of the stairs, with Wilbur’s room opposite his. Phil’s room was next to Tommy’s, with Techno’s opposite his.
Sighing, he pulled out his phone and called his friends.
“Tommy! Hi!” Tubbo greeted, far too enthusiastically considering how late it was. Though maybe he was channelling the energy the Christmas holidays seemed to give him, despite the fact that it's practically over and school was in two days.
Tubbo had been Tommy’s friend since he can remember. They grew up together, their mothers were best friends, so naturally they were too. When Tommy’s mother passed away when they were just ten years old, it impacted them both, though Tommy considerably more. In a way it brought them closer than ever, as they mourned the loss of their shared mother figure. Tommy didn’t really see Tubbo’s parents much after that though. He was just another reminder of the loss.
Even so, Tubbo and Tommy had always been there for each other. They were the best of friends, always had been, always would be and nothing could come between them.
“Hey Tommy.” And Ranboo, well, he’s new to the dynamic since he just moved here with his Dad after his parents divorced and it's definitely taking some getting used to for Tommy. Tubbo didn't seem to notice this and was merely excited to have a new addition to the friend group.
“What have you been up to? We haven’t heard from you all day!” Tubbo queried.
He sifted the keychain in his hand, rubbing a calloused finger over it, as if considering, “Yeah, not much big T.”
The next day he made sure to apologise to Phil for the keychain incident, and Phil being Phil, forgave him immediately.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Tommy felt exhausted. It’s the second day back at school since the Christmas break and it’s already draining him.
Forcing himself out of bed, he began to go about his morning routine; getting dressed into blue jeans and his usual red and white t-shirt, brushing his teeth, and going down for a mildly awkward breakfast with Phil’s discouraging glances at his watch as he rushed his breakfast to avoid being late for work, Wilbur’s snappy attitude (he’s not a morning person) and Techno’s familiar silence.
This was one of the few mornings where everyone was home, usually Phil was working long hours and Wilbur slept in. Techno was the only one who was almost always there for breakfast, and that’s because he’s usually the one making it, despite the fact that they are all more than capable. He claimed to enjoy it, but who really enjoys cooking?
Glancing at the end of the table where Wilbur was sitting, Tommy risked being the brink of his brother's bad mood when he asked, “Pass the milk, would you?”
“Mhm.” Wilbur was quite the opposite of an early bird; don’t expect much from him within the first hour of him waking up, it will not go your way.
“Thanks.” Tommy says when Wilbur hands it to him.
“Shit, sorry boys I gotta head out, can’t miss this meeting,” Phil rushed to pocket his phone and grab his keys from the counter hurriedly.
“Bye Dad,” Tommy responded, suppressing a sigh.
“See ya,” Wil comments with an edge to his voice that everyone chose to ignore, while Techno just nodded.
When he’s sure he’s gone, Tommy looked up from his cereal, “Has he picked up more hours at work?”
“Yeah, says we need the money.”
Tommy let himself sigh quietly.
“You know, I think I understand why crisps are called crisps.”
“Tubbo- what?”
“Well they’re crispy right? So it makes sense. Unlike you Americans, I will never understand why you call them chips,” The brown haired boy glanced at Ranboo disapprovingly, because he had the audacity to move from California to the UK last year, with the sole purpose of infecting them with his American opinions. (Screw you Ranboo. Beans on toast will forever be superior.)
“What, Tubbo please, not everything has to be compared. The UK and the US are two very different places,” It’s obvious to anyone listening that they'd had this conversation many times before.
“Yeah, I know, that’s my point!” Tubbo stated, gesturing his hands wildly, fruit shoot in hand, “Like the language we speak is English, so therefore us English people are right, you Americans just changed it, right Tommy?”
“Yeah Tubs, whatever you say,” Tommy chuckled, stealing a chip off of Tubbo’s plate. They were in the cafeteria at this point, the school day almost over, just got to get through lunchtime and two more lessons; history and english.
“Hey!”
Throwing the stolen food in his mouth, Tommy spoke almost incoherently, “NOM! Mine now,”
“You can’t just do that!” Tubbo protested, throwing his hands around the air further as if to show his mock frustration.
“I’m a big man, I can do what I want,” Tommy replied smugly.
The last two lessons went fairly fast, history was boring as it always is but he enjoyed english. English was probably his favourite subject, even if he wasn’t extraordinary at it, for two reasons; number one being that he sat next to tubbo at the back - best seating plan ever - and two, he just plain old enjoyed what he learned and the way his teacher, Mr Sam, taught it. He made sure to pay extra attention to the class when he wasn’t helping Tubbo with his work (Tubbo had dyslexia, oftentimes asking for tips and spelling checks, and luckily Tommy loved helping his friends).
At the end of the school day Tubbo insisted all three of them watch the sunset together, despite the fact the sun wouldn't set for another hour.
“We can go to the bench!” Tubbo exclaimed. The bench was their hangout spot. The name was pretty self explanatory, it’s a bench on a hill overlooking part of the town, it was beautiful when the sun was setting. Tommy and Tubbo stumbled onto it by chance a few years ago and it’d been their spot ever since, now it’s Ranboo’s too. It’s a ten minute walk from the school at most so there was no reason Tommy could think of to turn the offer down.
“Sure.”
“Great!” Tubbo practically shouted, hooking his arms into Tommy and Ranboo’s so they were all walking side by side.
“Clingy bitch,” Tommy muttered under his breath.
“Excuse me? What was that?”
“Hm? Nothing, I didn’t say anything,” Tommy replied instantly, staring ahead while suppressing a smile.
“Nuh uh! That isn’t gonna work. I know what I heard. Ranboo you heard what he said, right? I am not clingy!”
“No comment,” Ranboo was holding back a laugh now.
Smirking, Tommy turned his attention to Tubbo’s expression of disbelief, “See, you’re clingy, even Ranboo thinks it, he’s just too nice to say it aloud.”
“Well hold on, I never said you weren’t also clingy Tommy.”
“Wh- I’m not- When am I ever clingy?!”
“Wellll-”
The sunset was beautiful, bursting with bright shades of pinks and oranges, shadowed by clouds floating peacefully by. The atmosphere created was beautiful, it was home, tucked away safely between his friends and the trees with their swaying leaves, and the birds singing gracefully, Tommy let out a content sigh. Despite the beauty though, it was bloody freezing and Tommy was shivering dramatically.
“I’m gonna head home now, you coming Tubs?” Tommy and Tubbo live on the same street so they usually walk home together.
“Nah, I’m gonna stay with Ranboo for a bit longer,”
“Oh, okay." A pause, "Yeah, that’s cool.” Tommy chuckled awkwardly, standing in front of his friends sitting idly on the bench.
“Alright bossman, see you at school tomorrow.”
“Bye Tommy,” Ranboo said.
When Tommy got home he practically leaped onto his bed, yearning for the sweet release of sleep. (They hadn't been out for that long, but he was exhausted, since he also had to deal with a full day of school on top of hanging with the boys. He enjoyed their company but being out for so long would make anyone tired.) Though when it didn't come, he instead grabbed the keychain off of his bedside table, running his thumb over the wooden guitar design and allowing his thoughts to race, each one fighting desperately for the spotlight, as they often did.
Why didn’t Tubbo want to walk home with him? Was it just an innocent momentary desire to stay outside or did Tubbo prefer hanging out with Ranboo over him? He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter, since everyone had something or someone they cared about more than Tommy. So why did it hurt? He should be used to it, but even with everyone else in his life leaving him out in favour of a more interesting person or pastime, Tubbo had always been there, his unwavering presence grounding Tommy. Making him feel worth it. Making him feel loved. It had been Tommy and Tubbo since they’d known each other, nothing could come between them, right?
Unless he was finally getting tired of Tommy and his antics. Maybe he was just too loud, too boisterous, too annoying like he had been told so many times before.
Ranboo wasn’t any of those things, he’s polite, quiet and funny. He didn't overwhelm anyone with his personality and he always tried to be a better person than he was yesterday. He’s superior to Tommy in almost every way, so it made sense that Tubbo would want to choose him.
Although… he hadn’t chosen Ranboo over him yet, right? Maybe if Tommy subdued himself, if he didn't let his impulses get the better of him, if he acted quiet and controlled, passive to the world around him, (more like Ranboo, he noted distastefully) he’ll be less annoying and Tubbo won’t get rid of him like everyone else had. He just needed to act less like.. himself.
Then maybe Tubbo wouldn’t replace him, right?