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Phil may be old, but he isn’t blind. He notices the shift in Tommy’s demeanour long before anyone else seems to, just days after the plot to kill Dream goes wrong.
Ghostbur’s death affected everyone, even Phil himself. Learning his son is alive is incredible news, but a horrible pit still lies in his stomach; likely a product of guilt. Phil is struggling, but he knows Tommy is too; much more so than anyone else on the server, he’s willing to wager.
So, after a long while of Tommy closing himself off, barely speaking to anyone without his mask of overconfidence and cockiness, Phil decides he can no longer sit idly by and let Tommy wallow in what he’s positive is self-blame.
After a short walk through the woods, he finds what he’s searching for: a shrine; one you wouldn’t see unless you were looking for it. He steps up to it, closes his eyes, and bows his head. He clasps his hands together and mutters something in a language only he and few others understand.
Without so much as a shift in the wind, a new presence materialises, and Phil opens his eyes. In front of him, the Goddess of Death smiles.
“Hello, Phil,” she says. She opens her arms, and Phil is quick to step into her embrace.
“Hey, Kristin,” Phil murmurs, before withdrawing himself from the hug. “It’s uh… been a long time, huh?”
Kristin nods, an amused expression on her face. “It has. I’m assuming you need something from me?”
Phil’s cheeks grow warm. “Wha— no. Can’t I just summon you to say hello every now and again?”
Kristin crosses her arms over her chest, lips curled up into a smug smile. “You can, but I know you, Phil. You’re not normally one to summon the Goddess of Death of all people just to engage in small talk. So, what’s going on?”
Phil opens his mouth to argue, but decides against it and instead lets out a defeated sigh. “Okay, to tell you the truth; I’m here to ask for a favour.”
Kristin’s eyebrows raise, and Phil explains his request. Though it’s nothing difficult, it isn’t until Phil mentions the boy, Tommy, that Kristin makes a definitive decision in her mind. Phil talks a lot about Tommy; says he’s a good kid, so Kristin sees no harm in helping him out however she can.
Phil finishes explaining, and Kristin grins. Phil notices a familiar mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Tommy doesn’t feel like getting out of bed. It’s far beyond morning, but that detail seems irrelevant when he can’t even find the strength to get up. Tubbo and Ranboo have both checked in periodically, which he is grateful for (though he’d never say that to their faces). Unfortunately, he was unable to find it within himself to hold a conversation with either of them. It’s as if his throat has closed up, and though he can still breathe, he cannot speak.
Then, there’s a knock on his door. It’s gentle, but firm at the same time. It isn’t a Tubbo knock, nor is it a Ranboo knock. He hopes it isn’t Wilbur, so that would really only leave—
“Tommy?”
Phil.
The door slowly opens, and light spills into the room. Tommy doesn’t move.
“Hey, Tom,” Phil murmurs as he steps inside, carefully closing the door behind him. “You feeling alright?”
Physically or mentally?
“Actually— ignore that, that’s a stupid question.” Tommy’s bed dips, and he assumes Phil’s taken a seat. Tommy wants to say something; he really does, but he just can’t.
“Not up for talking, huh?”
Tommy shakes his head miserably, tears pricking his eyes.
“That’s okay.” Phil tangles a gentle hand in Tommy’s hair; the same way he did when Tommy was younger. “I just came around to check in, and see if you were maybe up for going on a little walk.”
Tommy opens his mouth, and a small noise escapes. He swallows and tries again.
“What?” His voice is hoarse, and he winces. Phil barely flinches.
“It’s okay if you’re not feeling up to it, but I thought of something that may cheer you up, even if it’s only a little bit.” Phil exhales shakily. “I just— I hate seeing you like this, Toms. We all do. I want to help, if you’ll let me.”
Tommy slowly meets Phil’s gaze, suddenly feeling so much younger and more vulnerable. In this moment, he feels like a kid; one who hasn’t been through countless wars and suffered severe bouts of trauma.
“…Yeah,” Tommy mutters, moving to sit up with Phil’s help. “Yeah, okay. Lead the way, Dadza.”
Phil smiles. “Grab your stuff; it’ll be a bit of a trek.”
Phil guides Tommy through the forest, where he knows Kristin is waiting. As they approach, he notices her hands are stained blue. Upon noticing the two, Kristin perks up.
“Ah, you’re back!” She steps forward, grinning from ear to ear. “And you must be Tommy! Phil’s told me an awful lot about you.”
Tommy’s expression is unreadable. “Phil,” he murmurs, “what the fuck.”
Phil laughs. “I’m getting to it, mate, don’t worry.” He gestures to Kristin. “This is Kristin. She’s the Goddess of Death, and… a friend of mine.”
Tommy nods, far too enthusiastically for it to be genuine. “Right, so my dad’s just casually making friends with goddesses now, this is completely normal.”
Kristin giggles. Phil rolls his eyes. “As I was saying, Kristin here is a friend of mine, and because you haven’t been feeling one-hundred percent since—” Tommy’s face falls, and Phil quickly changes course “—since what happened, I thought I’d come see if there was anything she could do to help.”
Tommy’s brow furrows, and his gaze drops to his feet. A zombie stumbles towards them, and Tommy takes the opportunity to draw his sword and engage in a battle which ends as quickly as it starts with a smooth and clean slice to the creature’s neck. Though it dies quickly, Tommy looks around, as if seeking more mobs to fight.
He’s stalling.
Phil bites his lip, steps forward, and slides a hand onto Tommy’s shoulder. Though he hesitates, Tommy turns his head, gaze drifting upwards to meet Phil’s eyes.
“You’ll like this, Tommy,” Phil murmurs, “I promise.”
Phil turns, and meets Kristin’s eyes. “Could you—“
“Yep, I’ve got it. C’mere, Tommy.”
Phil steps back, and Kristin beckons to Tommy. When it becomes clear Phil isn’t planning on accompanying him, Tommy approaches slowly, one hand still hovering over the handle of his sword, now sitting snug in its holster.
“There’s no need to be afraid,” Kristin whispers, extending a hand. “You can trust me.”
Tommy reaches out. Their fingers intertwine, and Tommy’s vision is suddenly filled with blue. Beautiful, soft lapis blue. Someone launches themself into his arms, and it’s then he realises Kristin is nowhere to be seen.
“Tommy! It’s been a long time, how are you? I’ve missed you!”
Wilbur’s– no, Ghostbur’s voice breaks through the silence, and Tommy cries.