Chapter Text
“He looks like me,” Tommy says as he lays on his back, head in Wilbur’s lap.
They are in the flower field next to the pube, Wilbur braiding little daisies into his younger brother's curls. His hands stop when Tommy talks, and he slowly draws them away entirely, watching as Tommy sits up and turns around to face him. “Theseus, I mean,” he clarifies, “he looks like me. Blonde hair, blue eyes, same height.”
“Well,” Wilbur starts slowly, considering Tommy with a tilt of his head, “plenty of have blonde hair and blue eyes, Toms.”
The kid nods, goes back to laying in Wilbur’s lap and doesn’t push any further. They sit for a while, Wilbur messing with the younger’s hair and humming softly, before Tommy pipes up again, “what do you think of him? I mean it’s weird, right? That he just showed up out of nowhere?”
He purses his lips. “You’re really worried about this aren’t you, sunshine?” Tommy shrugs and Wilbur sighs, “I’m sure he’s very nice, I haven’t really talked to him that much.”
“I haven’t talked to him at all,” Tommy admits, “I think he’s avoiding me.”
Wilbur frowns, “why would he do that?” Tommy just shrugs again and the two fall back into silence. He understands why his brother would be curious, it’s not everyday that they get new people, especially uninvited people, but he wants to respect Theseus’s privacy. If he doesn’t open up, barely talks to anyone, and spends half his time actually avoiding people, that's none of Wilbur’s business.
Secretly he worries for the kid. He can’t be much older than Tommy and his face is already littered with scars. Wilbur does see a little bit of his brother in Theseus, in his sky blue eyes and unruly hair. He thinks that if the kid ever opened up to him he’d see a lot more similarities.
He finishes braiding the flowers into Tommy’s hair, but the kid doesn’t lift his head from Wibur’s lap, simply readjusting to a more comfortable position as the older plays with his hair some more. They stay like this for some time, exchanging a few small quips here and there but mostly just sitting with each other in silence.
Tommy is frowning and Wilbur knows exactly why. He’s about to open his mouth, to tell Tommy that he didn’t mean to dismiss him like that, that he understands, that he wants to listen to him, but before he can a fucking scream cuts through the air. A guttural, terrifying scream of anguish and anger and agony.
The scream is long and heart-wrenching and then there is nothing. Utter silence falls over the field like ash after a goddamn forest fire. It’s suffocating, it’s terrible.
Immediately Tommy sits up, whipping his head around to search for the source. Wilbur can hear his breath picking up slightly, he stumbles to his feet, grabbing Tommy’s wrist and tugging him closer. The kid staggers into his side without complaint, a look somewhere between fear and confusion plastered on his face.
There are more vague shouts coming from the forest, it sounds like three or four different people, but Wilbur can’t hear who exactly it is, much less discern what they’re saying. He whips out his communicator and types a quick, panicked message to Philza.
“Go to the pube Tommy,” Wilbur says, sipping the device back in his and pulling away from the blonde, taking long strides in the direction of the forest. “Phil will meet you in his office. You’ll stay there until I or Tech message you, okay?”
Tommy is jogging after him, pulling at the fabric of his sweater and frowning deeply. “What? No, Wilbur I–”
“Yes, Tommy,” Wilbur snaps, whipping around to face the boy, his voice much sharper than intended. “You will go to the pube and you will stay there . This is not up for discussion, whatever’s in the woods could be dangerous.”
Hurt flashes across the younger’s face for a split second. “I’m not gonna just sit on the sidelines while you all fight some epic monster or some shit. Danger is my middle name, man come on!”
“So is Careful,” Wilbur says, softening slightly. He grabs Tommy’s hands in his, squeezing reassuringly and smiling when the other squeezes back. “Please, I don’t know what I’d do if I happened to you, Toms,” his voice breaks slightly, “you know I can’t lose you.”
The blond’s face softens and he sighs dramatically. “Fine, if it’ll make you feel that much fucking better, you big gigantic goddamn sap.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, earning one more smile before the kid rushes off to the pube. Wilbur watches as he climbs the ladder, making sure Tommy makes it up safely before turning back to the forest, face hardening.
The trees and shrubs are thick and they scratch at Wilbur’s bare arms as he shoves his way through them. The shouts are becoming more and more clear as he closes the distance between him and whoever is out here. He only catches a few words, but the ones he does send shivers down his spine.
“–fucking bitch! Goddamn scum of the earth, I hate you! Let me fucking go–”
The first voice, the one Wilbur can identify as the one who screamed, sounds vaguely familiar, but he can’t quite place it.
The second–
“–stop, stop. Calm down, you–”
–is Technoblade, no doubt. He sounds like he’s frustrated and chiding someone, grunts cut off his sentence every few seconds as if he’s fighting someone.
The third voice belongs to someone entirely unfamiliar to Wilbur.
“–please stop I’m sorry, I don’t even know who you are, I don’t–”
Finally Wilbur comes to a stop behind a tree blocking his view of the clearing where they first found Theseus. He takes a deep breath. There’s no doubt in his mind that the caring is where the scene is taking place, he can hear full sentences shouted now.
Steeling himself one last time, Wilbur steps out from behind the tree and gasps.
The scene in front of him is equal parts baffling and concerning. There is a man Wilbur has never seen before, backed up against a tree. Next to him on the ground lies a smashed porcelain mask, black lines that may have once formed a comprehensible shape decorate a few of the pieces. The man looks horrified, his green eyes wide in shock.
A few yards away from this new guy and much closer to Wilbur are Technoblade, which he expected, and Theseus, which he absolutely fucking did not.
The way the two are situated is even more confusing. Techno is standing behind Theseus restraining him in a headlock and grunting as the kid kicks and punches, desperately trying to free himself from the older man’s grasp.
“Tech, Tech, let me go!” he screams, groaning in frustration and glaring absolute daggers at the green eyed man, who shrinks further in on himself.
“No, Theseus, no, what has gotten into you?” Techno scolds, trying to hold the kid back as he struggles further.
Apparently his efforts aren’t working well to calm the kid because he yells, “let me at him, let me fucking at him!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t–” the man against the tree tries, raising his hands in surrender.
“You,” Technoblade huffs sternly, “are not helping.”
“Wha–” Wilbur begins to ask, stopping forward slightly just as Theseus aims a hard kick at Techno’s balls and breaks free from the headlock. Techno cries out as the kid hurdles toward the green eyed man, who also yelps. Using just one hand, Theseus pins him against the tree with a forceful kind of pure anger Wilbur has barely seen from anyone, and never from this child.
“You fucking bitch!” he shrieks, balling his free hand into a fist and swinging.