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Everything was perfect. It couldn’t get better than this.
Tommy was by his side, snuggled up while Wilbur had an arm around him. His hand overlapping Tommy’s, fingers interlocking, as they strolled quietly along the pier.
Wilbur remembered the first day Tommy joined his call. He sounded so young, so polite. They quickly took off in conversation. It was natural. They clicked. Something about how innocent Tommy sounded just made Wilbur almost immediately endeared.
He was such a little fanboy too. He admired Wilbur like he was the world. It just made Wilbur’s heart squeeze.
Then there was the first time he called Tommy privately off stream. Tommy was surprisingly calmer, which made him even sweeter. It was like after keeping up the persona of a disruptive, annoying child, he was worn-out and gentle, like a puppy who’s had his energy all spent.
Everytime Wilbur streamed with him, he couldn’t help but smile when Tommy’s little block character looked up at him. When they called with their cameras on, he just wanted to reach out and pet his fluffy hair.
And as time went on for a year, it got harder and harder. As they built l’Manberg together and as they sang together. Wilbur just couldn’t stand the urge anymore. He was about to snap. He begged Tommy for a meetup, so he could actually see Tommy in-person and actually be with him. Truly.
Then the day they finally did the meet-up, he saw Tommy, and their eyes locked.
Oh stars, he’s so small.
Quite adorable, if you asked him.
As Tommy stared up at Wilbur, this time not in his Minecraft block form, Wilbur tried so hard not to engulf him in a hug on first impression. Instead, he smiled softly, like he always did on those late night calls. Greeting Tommy personally with a “hey,” the world stopping around them.
Now, half a year later after their meetup, Wilbur’s worries are snuffed away. Tommy’s here, Tommy’s here. Wilbur could literally feel his back raising and falling in his arms with each relaxed breath. It was surreal, wonderful. Everytime Tommy tucked his head in his neck, Wilbur’s breath just hitched. Tommy always whined that he wanted to be taller, and Wilbur always hated the fact that his neck was so long. Now, neither of them was complaining.
Wilbur pressed a quick kiss to Tommy’s hair. He didn’t need to see Tommy’s face to know he was smiling.
It was perfect. Nothing could go wrong.
That is, if only Twitter didn’t exist.
—----
Wilbur woke up the next morning, fully refreshed and relaxed. He got up to brush his teeth, scrolling through his phone while he did.
Then he got a text from Tommy. Wilbur was surprised to see the child texting him so early.
TommyInnit: WILBURRRRR
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Curious, Wilbur tapped on the notification. He saw a video and began playing it.
It was a video of him and Tommy yesterday, Tommy leaning against Wilbur as Wilbur had an arm around him. The video caught him pressing a kiss to Tommy’s hair, proceeding with burying his face in it.
He got another notification, then another.
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As Wilbur looked at the additional photos, he continued to get more banners.
TommyInnit: WIL IT’S ALL OVER FLYING TWITTER YOU RAT
TommyInnit: WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO FLYING SOFT IN PUBLIC
TommyInnit: I HATE YOU
TommyInnit: I HATE YOU
TommyInnit: NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN YOU BIRD-BRAIN
WilburSoot: Tommy calm down it’ll go away before you know it
TommyInnit: HAVE YOU READ THE COMMENTS??
WilburSoot: Tommy love, you know I deleted Twitter long ago
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…
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Wilbur tapped on each screenshot, biting his toothbrush and toothpaste growing stale as he read each comment. It seemed like Tommy only screenshotted the awful ones, because none of them were pleasant. Some of them said they were weird, others said it was gross, meanwhile some even shipped them.
Wilbur’s toothbrush dropped from his mouth as he opened it in shock. He quickly rinsed out his mouth and sat on his bed.
WilburSoot: Tommy can you call me right this instant?
…
TommyInnit: I don’t know
WilburSoot: Why not?
…
TommyInnit: I’m just not really feeling it I guess
WilburSoot: Toms, it would only make it worse if you keep letting those words sink into your head alone.
…
TommyInnit: I’ll just talk to Tubbo. Bye.
Bye. Those three letters hurt more than they really should. They scared Wilbur. Taunting him and teasing him that Tommy was gone for good. That he lost him somewhere in the void. Chills ran through his spine as he remembered what Tommy said.
Never touch me again, you bird-brain.
Wilbur nearly cried aloud. No, Tommy please. I can’t lose you.
All those streams together. All those late-night phone calls. All those walks together in Brighton.
It pained Wilbur, to see Tommy so easily hurt by thoughtless words online. But he couldn’t blame him. Tommy was only sixteen. He’s too young to have this many attacks on Twitter.
Gritting his teeth, Wilbur went to the app store and quickly redownloaded Twitter. After logging into his account, he went to the crimeboys tag.
He gasped. It was true. It really was all over Twitter.
But it wasn’t too bad. A lot of the posts were sweet and glad to see the brothers happy and together. Then he remembered what Tommy said about the comments, and opened the comments section.
At first, it was fine. Many people posted hearts and “aww.” There were several “They’re brothers, your honor” and “CRIMEBOYS MY BELOVED!” Those made his heart warm. He was proud to have Tommy as his brother, and was proud the fandom saw it too.
But he quickly grew sick as he went deeper, finding comments that spammed “tombur” and “gross Wilbur, Tommy’s a minor.” It was horrid, disgusting.
Wilbur closed his eyes tight and turned off his phone. He could almost imagine Tommy’s face when he saw these comments. Shocked. The color drained from his face. Maybe even hints of fear.
Was that why Tommy didn’t call him?
He needed time away from Wilbur, to gather his thoughts.
Perhaps he was still scarred by what the public said about the two of them that he was now afraid to be around Wilbur.
That was understandable, but it still hurt. Wilbur loved Tommy. And not in a way that was weird or wrong. He loved Tommy like his little brother. He would do anything to protect him from this world. If he had wings he would shield him at all times. He would keep Tommy safe. Never letting the world hurt him, so it would never have the chance to even misplace a single hair on his head.
Stars, if he could he wouldn’t even have Tommy be streaming so young in the first place.
He’s too young to see these things. To have these things said about him.
Wilbur held back the urge to call him. To explain to him that those words meant nothing. That he was still the same Wilbur as yesterday. That nothing changed between them.
But he had to let Tommy have his space.
No matter how hard it was.
—----
It’s been two weeks since Wilbur’s heard from Tommy.
He tried sending texts, private messages, phone calls- anything. But Tommy didn’t respond to any of those. Last week Wilbur called Tubbo, asking if he’s heard from Tommy. Tubbo seemed confused, and by his tone Wilbur knew Tommy didn’t call Tubbo like he said he would.
So now Wilbur’s worried. What if this whole time Tommy’s been hiding in his flat, letting those thoughtless words eat him up? You can’t hide away when you’re feeling bad. You need to talk to someone.
And that “someone” for Tommy was Wilbur. But now Tommy’s avoiding Wilbur, which tells Wilbur that something is really wrong.
Well, if Tommy’s not going to answer him remotely, he’s going to have to reach him in-person.
Wilbur gathered his things, slung his satchel around his shoulder, grabbed the key to Tommy’s flat (which is always lying in a designated spot on the nightstand), and ran out the door.
—----
Wilbur stood there at Tommy’s door, breathing heavily. He didn’t know what state of mind he would find Tommy at this point. Two weeks. Stars, two weeks stressing over the cruelty of social media. That could never be healthy.
At first, Wilbur knocked. He only used Tommy’s key for emergencies. He didn’t want to be pushy or try to invade Tommy’s space if he wanted some quiet time. Quite unlike Tommy, who always barged into his flat. But Wilbur was fine with that, because he wanted the child to know that he can always open his door and be greeted with open arms.
There was no answer. He knocked a second time.
“Tommy? Tommy!”
Wilbur was about to fish out the key, when the door opened.
He almost gasped at the sight of Tommy. He looked tired, sleepless. His hair was ruffled and messy, like he hadn’t taken care of himself for two weeks.
Like he had been crying for two weeks.
“Oh,” Wilbur’s voice was shaky. “Oh Toms.”
“Don’t call me by that ratty pet name,” Tommy snapped coldly, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want?”
“Toms- I mean, Tommy. You’ve been hiding for two weeks. I need to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” Tommy answered plainly. He closed the door, slamming it so it made Wilbur jump.
Wilbur knocked again, and the door creaked open.
“Tommy, please,” Wilbur begged. “Let me in.”
“Let you in my flat, or..” There was a faint glint of light in Tommy’s eyes. Short and fleeting, but still there.
“Yes Tommy,” Wilbur whispered.
“No!” Tommy screamed, pushing him away. Wilbur stumbled on the steps behind him, Tommy following to herd him away from his door. “Go away, Wilbur! You don’t mean anything to me!”
Absolute pain and hurt gripped Wilbur like knife-sharp claws. His heart wrenched with those words. Tears flowed down his face and he couldn’t find the words to respond.
The only thing he could say was..
“Why, Tommy?”
“Because,” he hissed. “It won’t work. It’s not supposed to work. Our friendship- or whatever the fly we have.”
“Tom-”
Tommy was silent as he pulled something out of his pocket. Something shiny.. familiar.
Its silver metal glinted in the sun as it hung from the tip of Tommy’s fingers.
It was a key.
But not just any key.
It was the key to Wilbur’s flat. The one he gave to Tommy.
Wilbur’s eyes darted to the gutter underneath Tommy’s bare feet, realizing what Tommy was about to do.
“Tommy,” he breathed. “Don’t do it.”
Tommy let the key fall, the sound of metal against metal breaking Wilbur’s heart with each tiny clank.
“It’s over, Wilbur.”
—----
It’s been almost a year.
Well, if you wanted to be exact,
It’s been 364 days.
Wilbur’s been counting, and it will soon be a year since Tommy dropped the key, signifying the end of their once wonderful friendship.
He missed everything about the child.
From their on-stream screaming, to their quiet calls, to their silent cuddles.
He hasn’t seen Tommy since that day. Of course, they still had to do lore streams, because he didn’t want their broken friendship to ruin things for other people. They just stopped talking to each other, stopped interacting.
Sometimes they might be in the same calls, but that would only be on stream with some of their other friends. It was unnatural for Wilbur to not pass a joke by Tommy, or to tease him through the chat. Because it hurt him so much that they were no longer friends, he never watched Tommy’s streams either. It would only remind him of who he’s lost.
But he still remembered Tommy. Every little thing about him.
The way he laughed, or the way he smiled.
The way he spoke loudly, or the way he mumbled sleepily.
The way he waved off Wilbur’s affection, or the way he said “I love you” in return.
Wilbur didn’t let himself think about Tommy that much. It almost felt as if he was mourning.
He sighed as he brewed some tea for another lonely night in his dark flat.
Maybe he’ll watch some TV, but he doubted himself because there’s never really anything good on there. He canceled his Disney Plus subscription, because he only got that for Tommy. And it really didn’t make sense to keep paying for it if he wasn’t here.
Nevertheless, he turned on the TV.
News, news, weather channel, some reality show..
Oh.
Up.
Wilbur paused in his channel flipping, his thumb hovering over the button to switch.
Great, and it just happens to be that part of the movie.
He watched the movie, enjoying the music and the bright colors. He remembered the times he watched this with Tommy on his couch. He would usually lean on Tommy, not even paying attention to the movie. He just liked the music. Meanwhile, Tommy was excited about the colors and the animation.
It was all so cheerful and happy. Then..
Sadness came in. Death. Mourning. Darkness.
That’s what made Wilbur cry.
He didn’t know if it was the music or just the way the protagonist mourned. But he felt something. He could genuinely understand the pain.
There was nothing romantic between Wilbur and Tommy, but they still felt something.
It was love. Brotherly love.
Isn’t that kind of love just as valid?
He continued to sob, as if Tommy was dead, never to be seen again. But he did feel like that sometimes. Because Tommy never came back. At first Wilbur hoped he would, but now that it’s been a year, he’s given up all hope.
He let himself curl on the couch, letting the music sink in as he buried his face in the fabric. Not into Tommy’s hair- as he was used to.
Wilbur was crying so much that he almost didn’t hear a sound outside. He stopped when he eventually noticed it. He strained his ear, listening.
Then there it was again.
A knock. A tiny one.
“Wilbur?”
Wilbur sat up straight. No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.
“Wilbur? Can you open the door? I don’t have the key.”
“Tommy!” he cried, running and stumbling to the door. He fumbled with the lock and flung the door open.
His tears of sorrow turned to tears of joy as he saw the child, standing at his door, looking up at him. His lips quivered into a smile as he saw how much Tommy had grown. His hair was longer, bouncier. His eyes were brighter and bluer than Wilbur remembered. And he was just slightly taller than last year.
Wilbur almost dove into a hug, when he stopped himself, remembering that was what broke their friendship in the first place. Tommy, catching the notion, initiated the embrace himself, jumping into Wilbur and wrapping his arms around him. Wilbur caught him, pulling him closer in return. He didn’t know what feelings he had at the moment. Joy, relief, nostalgia. All he knew is that he felt reunited with a part of himself that he had been missing for nearly a year.
Then suddenly Tommy jerked away, wrapping his arms around himself, convulsing in sobs.
“Wait, no! We’re not supposed to- M’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry..”
“Shhh Tommy.. What are you sorry about?”
“Wilbur,” the child hiccupped pitifully. “We’re not supposed to- to cuddle, remember?”
Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“We’re not- Cuddles are meant for romantic couples, Wilbur. I don’t think of you that way and I don’t want you to think I do. I can’t, we can’t-”
“Tommy,” Wilbur hushed, scooping the boy up in the tightest embrace he had ever given him. “Brothers can cuddle too, you know.”
Tommy’s heavy breathing stopped. He seemed relieved, but also confused.
“But.. we’re not blood-related. We’re friends.”
“But Tommy,” Wilbur sensed that the child was tearing up, and pulled away so he could wipe the tears from Tommy’s face. “We don’t have to be related by blood to be brothers. What matters is our love for each other. There are so many different kinds of love, but people can all show it the same way. I love you like a brother, Tommy. Even though you’re not related to me by blood, you’re still like my little brother. Blood doesn’t mean anything. Blood just means you have the same parents. But love doesn’t rely on that. Love depends on you.”
Tommy sniffed, a smile growing on his face. “Really?”
Wilbur nodded affirmatively. “Really.”
At that moment, Tommy jumped into Wilbur’s arms again, rubbing his face in his shirt.
“Wilby! Wilby! Wilby!” he squealed. “I love you Wilby! You’re my big brother, and I love you!”
Wilbur let out a mixture of laughter and happy tears. Curling around the child and burying his face into his soft curls, he breathed “Me too, me too!”
“I’m sorry for leaving you, for abandoning you,” Tommy replied, a tinge of sorrow in his voice.
“It’s okay, Tommy. It’s not your fault,” Wilbur murmured, running a hand down his hair. “It’s not your fault.”
“Can we just forget this happened? Like there was never a gap in time between us?” Tommy buried his face impossibly further into Wilbur’s shirt. “Can we just go back to normal?”
“Well, Tommy,” Wilbur answered with a grin on his face. “I have to remember this.”
Tommy pulled away just slightly, so that he could see his face but so that they were still holding each other. “What?”
“Tommy,” Wilbur laughed melodically, the first time he had laughed that way since he’d last seen Tommy. He pulled Tommy closer, pressing a quick kiss on his forehead.
“I have to remember this,” he murmured. “Because I have to remember how grateful I am to have you again.”
Tommy giggled, a sound Wilbur had missed so much. He tucked his head into Wilbur’s perfectly sized neck, Wilbur’s breath hitching and Tommy’s head slumping as they both recalled all their memories together.
“You’re gonna have to get me a new key, Wilbur,” Tommy teased.
“Oh, anything for you Toms. You could drop all the keys in the world down that drain and I will always continue to get you one.
And the same goes for our friendship.”