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"no."
a sigh fell from between cracked lips, and phil dropped his head into scarred, withered palms. the gentle crackling of the lantern on the table and the soft chirping of the crows outside foggy windows did nothing to soothe the tense atmosphere.
it was suffocating.
"mate-"
"absolutely not, phil," the steeliness in techno's voice was not lost on anyone, certainly not when paired with the way his bulky arms crossed over his chest and his lips pulled back into a sneer, tusks peering at him.
he sighed, a gentle, calm sound that painfully contrasted technos harsh glare. "i know he hurt you, but-"
"-phil, he betrayed me. twice. i thought he was getting better, when he was staying here. and he just used me as a means for his own gain. again, " he seethed.
phil lifted his gaze from his hands, meeting his crimson eyes, "techno, please. he's driving himself insane, he needs-"
"what he 'needs' is up to him. you don't owe him anything!" techno slammed his hands down onto the table, fingers spread apart as they collided with the oak. he shut his eyes, inhaling deeply, bulky shoulders rising, before exhaling harshly, "you don't owe him anything," he echoed.
"but he deserves something." phil insisted, keeping his voice down and forcing a sense of calmness into his tone. they would get nowhere by arguing, they never did. it always ended in days of awkward silences and too-harsh shoulder nudges, and it always looped straight back around once they 'apologised', though, both being stubborn, the 'apologies' were nothing short of half-hearted excuses.
"phil, there's no room for him."
"i have a guest room, and ranboo's house isn't exactly being used-"
"listen," techno snapped, rising to his feet and slamming his hands onto the table, "i get that you're using this as some sort of replacement, to make up for the son you failed. you regret failing the way you did with wilbur, i get it, sure, whatever, not my business. then you use ranboo to make yourself feel better about being a shit father to wilbur, and as if that wasn't bad enough, now you're using tommy to make up for being a shit father to ranboo?!"
phil snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.
"when will it be enough, phil? when will you run out of replacements?"
all of the air had been sucked out of the room.
he clenched his fists, "he's not a replacement," he croaked, eyes stinging. "maybe you're right, tech. maybe i did only start helping because it felt like a way of making up for the kids i've failed, but it's more now. he needs help, he can't be alone."
"when have you ever cared about leaving someone alone?"
it took everything in phil not to recoil back at the words, to keep his vision locked solely on the man at the end of the table.
"dreams after him. he wont say what happened in exile, but i've seen him, techno. whatever dream did to him was absolutely fucked. he plays mind games, and i'm not about to fall for his shit. dream's destroying him, and he hasn't laid a hand on him in weeks. imagine what would happen if he got tommy back."
techno bit his lip harshly, trying to ignore the way metal spilled into his mouth, coating his tongue in iron.
"tommys living out of tubbo's old home. he's covered it in obsidian, and he has a lava pit outside every entrance. he has people on security watch at all times, and he hasn't slept in days. he can't be alone," words hung from the tip of phils tongue. he restrained himself from mentioning the criss-crossed clearly self-inflicted gashes that had begun to litter his arms. instead, he inhaled shakily, continuing through watery eyes. "techno, please, he's running himself into the ground, and i can help! i know i can, just-!"
"phil-"
"please," he dropped his head, hands clasped together and forehead pressed atop his linked fingers, a gesture far too similar to praying for either of their liking, "tech, please. i can't fail anyone else. please. "
this was philza. philza, the immortal entity whos name struck fear into the heart of all beings. the angel of death. the most powerful being, for a brief period.
and here he was, begging.
pleading.
there was a moment of silence where phil was prepared to give up.
then-
"fine," techno sighed, "but he is to come absolutely no where near me, phil. i'm not going to trust him, or play nice. i made that mistake long ago."
phils shoulders slumped in relief and a heavy exhale left his lungs, all but sagging back into the chair, "thank you, i- thank you."
"i want to go back."
phil sighed lightly, pulling the cloak tighter around himself, "i know, mate, but you'll be safer here. he won't dare hurt you if you're under our protection."
"our?" tommy scoffed bitterly, yet continued trudging through the snow at phils side, ill-fitting snow boots crunching with every step. "techno hates me. he'd rather hand me over than 'protect' me," he hesitated, face knotting in late-realised rage. "hey, wait, i don't need protecting!"
he shook his head in amusement, a faint smile playing at his blue-tinted lips, "okay, maybe you're right about that, but you're under my protection, and techno wouldn't go against my word."
"how are you so sure about that? how do you know he won't, like, tell dream where i am when you're asleep, or something? you know, you aren't that scary, phil. no offense," he added hastily, overgrown white locks bouncing as he laughed to himself. "i don't think techno would appreciate this, anyway. i mean, he goes to all that effort to free dream, which, by the way, why the fuck did you do that? asshole move, really. but anyway, he goes to all that effort, and now you're just baiting him back here?"
a snowflake landed upon phils nose as he tipped his head back and laughed, wings hitching upwards with each chuckle, "trust me, mate, we may not have wanted dream in that prison, but we don't like him. not even techno does. and if push comes to shove, techno would gladly fight against him."
"just not for me," tommy added without thought, face unreadable.
phil tried to ignore the way his chest ached at the newfound seriousness, mustering up everything he had to lighten the mood, "and, mate, i may not be intimidating to you, but you haven't seen what techno has."
"what's that supposed to mean?!" tommy scrunched up his nose, "god, phil. you and your fancy old speech. just- fuckin' talk normal."
a laugh spilled from between his cold lips, "sorry, tommy, i just mean that you haven't seen how i used to be," at tommys confused stare, he continued, huffing out a chuckle, "i used to be able to take down armies singlehandedly, and technos only ever beat me in a fight once, so, trust me, when i say he won't go against my word, i mean it.
a childlike awe sparked in tommys dull eyes, stormy grey pupils glistening with wonder, "you took down armies? and you didn't tell me? what the hell, phil! you're a right prick, y'know that? tell me about it, then!"
the moment phil stepped out of the room, tommys heart sank.
flames from the fireplace still crackled, and the crows outside still cawed, yet it felt as if the air had been drained of warmth. his skin crawled, and he could feel goosebumps beginning to spread across his arms. tommy swallowed thickly, squeezing his eyes shut and silently berating himself for being so ridiculous.
he knew, logically, phil was still in the house, that he'd only gone to grab something. still, he couldn't shake the feeling that dream was watching now he was alone. now dream was sure that, if tommy caught him, no one would be able to help, and absolutely no one would believe him. he opened his eyes, and bit back a scream, hands knotting in the blanket pulled around his trembling shoulders.
tommy could've sworn that, for a moment, in the corner of the window, a smiling, bloodstained mask had caught his eye.
he could almost hear dreams laugh, maniacal and chilling and something that usually marked a loss of his life.
his head ached, and the feeling of cold, harsh obsidian crashing against his skull resurfaced.
sighing heavily, tommy blinked, hands clenched into fists as he desperately tried to remind himself that he was safe, that dream wouldn't dare hurt him if phil was around, that he wasn't back in the prison cell with dirty hands in his hair, slamming his head against the wall over and over and over and-
"fuck," he choked out, taking in a deep breath as his eyes darted around the room.
nothing had changed.
why would it? he was still in phils cabin, he was just being stupid.
yet, every time he blinked, the soft rug in front of the fireplace seemed to flicker into a pool of blood, and the neat floorboards seemed to flash into freezing, hard obsidian. and the gentle light from the fire seemed to burst briefly into rhythmically trickling lava.
"you alright, mate?"
almost jumping out of his skin, tommy exhaled shortly, "yeah. yeah, i'm fine."