Archive of Our Own ^beta

It started with a cough. He thought it was just a cough. He wished it was only a cough.

“Let’s be the bad guys," Wilbur had said, and the seed had been planted. The way he spoke scared Tommy, terrified him, even, but that hadn’t been the breaking point. The breaking point was when his traitorous mind wondered if this thing was truly Wilbur, if he truly cared about Tommy. He had completely disregarded Tubbo when he used to get along so well with the goat hybrid. 

“When I said you were never going to be president, that wasn’t a challenge. That was a fact. You’re never going to be president, Tommy,” he’d said in a scarily saccharine whisper next to Tommy’s ear.

And he’d listened. Every word was fertilizer, every cold shoulder a dark replacement for sunlight. It grew and grew inside his chest with each passing day until his it felt tight enough to burst. So of course, he’d asked the one person who was with him in hopes that he could clear up any serious threats to his health.

“Wilbur?” He asked the brunette. He’d been watching Wilbur the entire day, waiting to ask him, but each time he tried to, Wilbur had looked pissed. And as bothered as Tommy was by what was going on, he wasn’t going to just walk up to Wilbur and ask a question when Wilbur looked like he wanted to tear someone’s head off.

“ What?” Wilbur looked up from his writing with a glare on his face.

Nevermind, Wilbur was still pissed. But it wasn’t like Tommy could just say ‘nothing’ and leave, if anything, that’d piss Wilbur off more. “Uh, I just had a question for you.”

“Well? Go ahead.”

“So- so recently my chest has kinda been, like, hurting, I guess? And it’s probably nothing but I want to know if it’s something serious like lung cancer, because that is a thing. If you’ve given me lung cancer from smoking, then I might sue you for child endangerment.” Tommy made an attempt to joke at the end.

But instead, Wilbur only groaned in annoyance. “Stop being dramatic. You’re just homesick. I’ll go away when we get L’Manburg back. Or if it’s not there anymore.” He shrugged. “Either way. Now are you done?”

“Well, I mean, it’s not really an emotional hurt, but something physical? Like, it actually hurts. I don’t think it’s homesickness.”

“Emotional hurt can affect the body. My best soldier is not getting sick,” he hissed. While that would have made Tommy feel important once, it just made his chest hurt more.

Is that all he thinks of me as? A soldier?

“I just- I don’t think it’s emotional hurt, Wilbur.”

Wilbur slammed the book in front of him shut with a loud thud . “Tommy. Not right now. If it gets worse after a week, tell me, but I’m not a fucking doctor. Even if there is something wrong with you, we don’t have allies to take care of it, so you better suck it up and tough it out.”

“I- Okay, Wilbur.” Tommy looked away. “Sorry.”

Wilbur didn’t respond, so Tommy skulked out and away. The scene replayed in his head, noting Wilbur’s disinterest, and it didn’t take long before he was hunched over on the cold stone floor, coughing and hacking his lungs up for something that wouldn’t budge.

The blood was the first thing to come. Not a good sign, but it had happened before in near-death circumstances. He could probably take a healing potion and remove that part. And he would have, had it not been for what he coughed up after.

A single flower petal. Yellow on the inside, transitioning to white and then deep blue on the outside. It sat innocently in the drops of crimson. He’d had this in his lungs, but he’d never seen a flower like it before, much less recently. And if he’d done something stupid like inhale a petal on a dare, he would have remembered.

So what-?

Another cough caught him off guard, and again, when he gave in to it, a single petal floated onto the ground, drops of blood dotting it. 

You whisper to Tubbo_: something is wrong.

— 

“Let me get this straight,” Tubbo said as he put one hand up, brows furrowed. “You coughed up a flower? Like, the type that grows on the ground?”

“What other type of flower would I be talking about?” Tommy asked in exasperation.

“I don’t know! You coughed up a literal flower, with blood? Did you accidentally swallow it before or something?”

“I’ve never seen it before.” He shook his head, taking the two petals from his inventory and showing it to Tubbo. “Do you know what it is?”

“It looks like any old flower.” Tubbo answered. “A blood-stained flower petal. Are you sure you didn’t just accidentally breathe it in or something?”

“Maybe.” Tommy frowned and put it back into his inventory. “But what about the blood? There wasn’t anything sharp that could have cut my throat or something. And my lungs’ve felt like shit all week.”

“Dunno. Maybe the flower’s poisonous?” Tubbo suggested.

“What do we even look for with this? Flower types? Lung issues? Even though it’s out, my chest still feels weird. I don’t think that’s a good sign.”

“Both? I dunno. Maybe Karl’s library has a book on it or something?”

“Good idea. Wil won’t notice if I’m out too much longer-” (he ignored the spike of pain that ran through his chest at that sentiment) “-so we have plenty of time.”

Tubbo nodded. “So we just go in, steal a bunch of books, and then look at them when we get back?”

“Pretty much. Take ‘em and pray he doesn’t find out and that there’s stuff inside that can help us.” He knew he could probably ask Karl- it was a library for a reason- but he didn’t want to risk the chance of being denied. Damn it, he had a right to know if he was fucking dying.

“Sounds like a plan, then.” Tubbo grinned.

The two carefully made their way towards Karl’s library, hoping and praying they wouldn’t be caught. When they got inside, Tommy realized finding the right books would be a lot harder than initially thought.

“Why the fuck are they alphabetized?!” Tubbo asked. “Why aren’t they organized by ‘flower books here’, ‘medical books here’, ‘fantasy books here’?! Non-fiction and fiction isn’t helpful enough!”

“Shit,” Tommy agreed. “This isn’t good. And he counted all the books that start with ‘the’ under T, too. We’re not gonna have a chance to look through those ones.” He let out a sharp breath. “Look through F and G, try to get flower guides. I’ll look through L and D, for lung diseases.”

Tubbo nodded and made his way to the F section, looking through the books and putting one or two in a pile. Meanwhile, Tommy did his own searching, placing the books he could find on the sidelines. One in particular looked promising, titled Medical Conditions: Lungs.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to grab many more, because he heard Karl’s footsteps outside. He gathered up the books he’d grabbed, took hold of Tubbo’s wrist, and mined the walls to escape before Karl noticed how many of his books were gone.

Once his heartbeat had stopped racing and the blocks in the wall were replaced, he turned to Tubbo and announced cheerfully, “that went well.”

They searched the stock of books, inspecting the flower guides first. It took a while to find the exact kind of flower, even with the distinctive petals, but they eventually settled on a blue morning glory. 

Thankfully, consuming a morning glory is not dangerous, though seeds are known to cause side effects similar to those of LSD, the book advised.

“I’m definitely not high,” Tommy said. “Did we get the wrong flower?”

“To be fair, you only coughed up the petals, not the seeds.” Tubbo pointed out. “Unless you ate one of the seeds and it grew inside of your gut. Wilbur used to tell us that would happen if we ever ate watermelon seeds.”

“That’s a myth, though. Wilbur admitted he said it to scare us. Maybe it’s not a flower. Maybe it’s like… an organ or something. I don’t know what organs look like,” he argued.

“You didn’t cough up an organ , otherwise you’d be dead. It looks exactly like this flower. Maybe it’s, like, a type of flower that actually does grow in your gut? Or you just ate one and forgot.”

“It wasn’t in my gut, though. It was in my lungs. You can’t just breathe in a flower.”

“Huh. Maybe check the lung book? Maybe it’s like a lung disease that looks like a flower but isn’t.”

Tommy nodded, but before he could even check through the pages, Tubbo’s communicator buzzed. They shared a silent glance, and Tommy couldn’t help but be a little worried. Things in Manburg hadn’t been going great, last he heard, and it was more than likely related to that.

Sure enough, Tubbo’s face soured at the message.

“Fuck, I gotta go.” Tubbo stood up and waved a quick goodbye to Tommy, already beginning to leave. “Sorry! I’ll be back soon, but this is important!”

“What does Schlatt want now?” Tommy hurried after his friend, reluctant to let him leave so soon.

“Some shit about an idea he had, but he said it was urgent or whatever, and he’ll be pissed at me if I don’t get there soon, and everything’s a lot worse when he’s pissed off.”

“Sounds familiar,” he muttered, and Tubbo gave him an odd look.

“What?” Tubbo stopped to ask. “What sounds familiar?”

Right. He hadn’t told his friend about Wilbur’s odd behavior. There had never really been a right time or place, and now certainly wasn’t it. “I mean that it sounds like Schlatt. He’s a right bitch, that one.”

Tubbo looked at him for a moment longer before turning away to leave again, nodding. “He is,” his friend sighed. “I’ll hopefully be back soon.”

“See you, Tubs. Hope Schlatt doesn’t give you too much trouble.” Tommy kept his smile up, though it was forced.

“I hope so too,” was all Tubbo said as he retreated back to Manburg along the Prime Path.

— 

Tommy really shouldn’t have assumed Wilbur wouldn’t be upset, he figured as he cautiously met the brunette’s cold gaze. He knew his brother well enough to know he was pissed .

“Where were you?” Wilbur asked in a tone cold enough to turn water to ice.

“I was just with Tubbo, we were trying to find out, uh, what a flower I found was.” It wasn’t a complete lie. 

“You went flower-hunting? Seriously?” Wilbur shook his head. “You’re not a child anymore, stop acting like one.” 

“Sorry, Wilbur.” Tommy frowned. “Tubbo and I were just curious about the flower and we wanted to find out what it was.”

 “Well? Did you get your answer?”

“We did.” Tommy nodded. “Sorry for not telling you where I was going.”

“Good. Then you don’t have any business with that traitor anymore. You should spend less time with him,” Wilbur advised.

“He’s not a traitor, he’s helping us.” Tommy defended his friend.

“He sided with Schlatt!” Wilbur argued back, harsh enough to scare Tommy into backing off a bit, though he still wasn’t convinced.

“He’s spying for us! He’s risking himself to help us!”

“He could be a double agent. He’s lying to you, Tommy. You can’t trust him,” Wilbur spat.

“I can, he’s Tubbo! He wouldn’t betray us.”

Wilbur scoffed. “Like Schlatt would make a great endorsement? Yeah, right. He was your idea, you know.”

“We knew Schlatt for a few months at best, but we’ve known Tubbo for years! He’s always been on our side throughout everything!”

“People change, Tommy.”

You showed that pretty well, Tommy wanted to say. Prime, he missed the old Wilbur, the one who wouldn’t dream of shouting at him like this, the one who actually cared.

His chest seized, and that unbearable feeling of needing to cough took hold of him. He was able to keep it down to a few short hacks, the petal small enough to be hidden in his hand. Wilbur probably wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he heard Tommy had somehow accidentally inhaled a flower. But when Tommy looked up to confirm that Wilbur had seen, the brunette barely even seemed fazed.

“Wilbur-” Tommy began, but was cut off.

“Stop being fucking dramatic. There’s nothing wrong with you,” Wilbur snapped. “If this is you trying to make me feel guilty, you’re going to have to try harder.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” Tommy crushed the petal in his hand. “Sorry. I’ll just go.”

“Go. Prime, Tommy, just go,” Wilbur grumbled and turned away. He drew out a cigarette, and Tommy retreated, knowing full well what would come next. On light feet, he made his way to the surface and pulled out the book he’d stolen from Karl. It didn’t take too long to find what he was looking for in the index. Sure enough, the word flower was there despite all odds. He wasn’t dealing with the unknown.

Hanahaki, it was titled. The disorder of flowers growing in the lungs.

So they were actually growing, then. That made things a lot harder. But if it was recognized, there must be a way to handle it. He kept reading.

Hanahaki is often classified as a combination mental and physical disorder, in which physical state is affected by mental state. Flowers are known to grow in the lungs as a result of unrequited love (be it romantic, platonic, or familial), blocking air flow and causing bouts of coughing as a natural response to get the blockage out. The flowers are highly dangerous and often end up being fatal. The only known physical cure is to remove them by surgery, but it’s extremely dangerous, expensive, and stunts the patient's ability to feel love or interpersonal relationships.

“...What?” That couldn’t be right, that couldn’t be what was happening to him. It had to be something else, there was no way this was what was going on.

But the more Tommy read, the less hope he had. He reread the first section again and felt somehow even worse. Fuck. There had to be some other way to fix it, he couldn’t die because his emotions turned on him. And yet, there were no doctors, none that were able to perform surgery, and much less for this specific issue. He had almost nothing to his name anymore, he was a public enemy, and he had no clue where to even start.

Maybe with who it was about. Well, that was pretty damn obvious at the start. Wilbur. It was the only person who came to mind, the one whose colors matched with the petals. It explained why his chest would ache so fucking much whenever he got yelled at. But he didn’t feel relief that he knew who it was. No, a quiet horror filled him, a slow realization that, if he had this, that meant it was true. Wilbur no longer cared about him. After so many years of being by his side, his brother had thrown him aside like a broken toy.

At the thought, he could feel the vines twisting in his chest and he doubled over, coughing and retching into the grass, trying to get the growing parasite out , but all that he managed to expel was blood, bile, and a few measly petals.

No, no, no- This couldn’t happen to him. Why didn’t Wilbur care? Why did Tommy care so much, enough to get himself killed, when Wilbur didn’t even seem to see him as a brother anymore?

Tommy had been on Wilbur’s side throughout everything, he’d always supported and helped Wilbur whenever he had any new ideas, and he’d stuck by him whenever things went terribly wrong. So what had Tommy done to deserve this? What had he done to cause Wilbur to stop caring about him? Did Tommy just care too much?

 No, no, he had to think rationally. He wasn’t going to- he couldn’t die, not over this. He’d fought in a war, he could best a few emotion-based flowers. He just needed to think. What could he do to stop himself from this awful fucking fate? Maybe he could distance himself, get space from Wilbur and drive a wedge between them. If he didn’t care, either, he’d be free from this.

That had to work. It had to. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if it didn’t.

—

Technoblade wasn't stupid. He'd heard the coughing late at night. He'd seen the way Tommy would skirt around Wilbur like he was walking on eggshells every time he got close. He noticed the faint stains of blood. Though he didn't know what it meant, he knew that something wasn't quite right.

He tried to approach Tommy after a few days of wondering what was going on, but every time, Tommy always had an excuse to not talk to him or avoided the subject completely. Today seemed to be no different.

“Are you sick or something?” Techno asked Tommy one night. “You’ve been coughing all week.”

“Just a little cough,” Tommy assured him, though he looked almost nervous. “Guess they really weren’t lying about secondhand smoke.”

“You should probably get that checked out. Isn’t Ponk a doctor or whatever?”

“He knows some stuff, but I’ve already checked it out. Did a little research, I did, and it’s nothing too bad. Not like it’s going to kill me or anything.” He gave an odd, antsy sort of chuckle.

“If you say so. Is everything alright with Wilbur? You’ve been acting odd whenever he’s around.”

“Wilbur? Pfft, nah, he’s just- just Wilbur. You know how he is.” Tommy coughed into his hand, which closed into a loose fist at the end of the quiet bout. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? You sound like you’re dying.” Techno half-joked.

To his surprise, Tommy grimaced. “Don’t. That’s not funny.”

“Why?” Techno knew he didn’t always make the best jokes at certain times to certain people, but he was pretty sure Tommy was fine with jokes regarding death. “Did your dog die or something?”

“ I died. Twice,” he pointed out. “Not a fun experience.”

“You’ve never been sensitive about those jokes before, though.”

“You’ve never told them after I died,” he muttered.

“I literally have, though,” Techno pointed out drily.

“Doesn’t fucking matter, just don’t.”

“Okay, fine, whatever.” Techno crossed his arms. The conversation ended then, and was replaced by an awkward silence. He saw Tommy subtly slip something into his pocket, along with a small smear of red on his hand, but before he could ask, he heard Wilbur’s voice call out sharply.

“ Tommy!”

“Shit.” Tommy looked downright nervous, not like he used to at Wilbur’s call. “Fuck. I’ve gotta talk to him. You know how it is.”

“I-... Okay?” Techno blinked. Why would Tommy be nervous? What was going on with him?

He didn’t even utter a goodbye as he hurried to Wilbur, spewing apologies and reassurances that were downright out-of-character. 

Check on him, Chat insisted. Protect the flower boy. He’s alone. Danger, danger, danger.

‘Flower boy’ was a new nickname, but Chat never really made sense, anyway. Either way, it was clear Chat didn’t want him to leave Tommy alone for whatever reason, so Techno decided he wouldn’t. Something told him both Wilbur and Tommy wouldn’t appreciate him eavesdropping, however, so to the potato farm he’d go. His potato farm, which was right next to where Wilbur and Tommy were talking.

Technoeavesdrop. That sounds dumb. Mean. Shut up, we need to hear what’s going on! With a bit more coaxing, Chat went blessedly silent, and Techno listened in.

“-told you not to leave! And what did you fucking do? You disobeyed me!” Wilbur shouted, loud enough for Techno to hear even if he put his hands over his ears.

“I didn’t! I didn’t go, these are- these flowers are from a few days ago, when I was out with Tubbo, remember?”

“Don’t lie to me! You’re on thin enough ice already,” Wilbur spat. “They’re not even wilted!”

“I’m not lying! I didn’t leave! I didn’t do anything, I swear!” Tommy insisted.

“Do you think I’m stupid? You’re supposed to be my right-hand-man, Tommy, I can’t have you sneaking around like this.” And suddenly, his voice changed to a soft, pleading sort of tone that made Techno uneasy. “Tell me the truth, Toms.”

“I… Wil, I-...” Tommy was quiet for a bit before mumbling, “I snuck out. Only for a bit, I’m sorry.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to get mad at me, I’m sorry.”

“You could have gotten hurt. You could have gotten killed,” Wilbur argued, his voice tinged with anger again. “Do you know how many enemies we have?”

“I do, I know, but I can take care of myself! I was careful, nobody saw.”

“ Now, but they could have. I need you here, Toms. No more flower-picking.”

“It’s not just flower-picking, Wilbur. It’s fresh air! Being stuck underground with a smoker isn’t good for my lungs, you know.”

“Oh come on, you’re not going to die from it. Lighten up.”

“I already have fucked up lungs, if you couldn’t tell from how late at night I stay up coughing. I just want to go outside! I’m claustrophobic, man, you know this.”

“Oh come on, you can’t blame that on me,” Wilbur shot back. “You’re just sick. It’s nothing permanent. I’m trying to keep you safe. Schlatt would kill you in a second. Hell, Tubbo would kill you in a second. You can’t trust them.”

“Tubbo wouldn’t! He’s had every chance to and he hasn’t. He’s not going to kill me for no reason, Wilbur.”

“Tommy, will you fucking listen to me for once?!” Wilbur shouted. 

“I do listen, you’re just wrong! Tubbo wouldn’t betray me, he wouldn’t! He’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake!”

There was the sound of a slap, and Techno froze. Everything was silent for a dangerous moment, before Wilbur spoke up.

“Tommy, I- I didn’t mean to-”

Wilbur was cut off by Tommy coughing violently, followed by a quick, “I’m sorry,” and Tommy running off, coughs getting louder and louder.

Oh boy, here come the flowers. Chat, stop being so casual! I’m just saying! No fourth wall breaks. Shut up, Chat piped up.

Techno tried to follow after Tommy, but was stopped when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, a blood-stained petal next to it. And all of a sudden, the nickname ‘flower boy’ seemed a lot darker than Techno initially thought.

— 

Tommy couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like it was being strangled by the vines inside him, writhing and constricting against him. He was already starting to get lightheaded from lack of airflow in his regular life, but when his hanahaki acted up, it was unbearable. His cheek ached, his chest ached, his heart ached. Damn it, it hurt, it hurt on every goddamn level. 

And right now, he was in the worst of it, hunched over and coughing desperately into a hole he’d made to hide. There weren’t exactly garbage bins in Pogtopia, after all. Cleanliness wasn’t their top priority. 

A sharp pain in his chest, and he was retching and hacking up a whole flower into his shaking hands. It was damp and speckled with scarlet and beautiful. And that was one of the worst parts about this whole ordeal, that his ailment was beautiful in its own twisted way. It reminded him of the best parts of Wilbur, and it fucking hurt. It twisted his heart in a positive feedback loop, because even fate decided that he couldn’t have a break.

Tommy managed to expel one more flower, shaking with silent sobs, before he was interrupted by a knock at his door. Or, well… not really his, but the door of the space he was occupying. Nothing really belonged to him in this wretched ravine.

“W- wait-” Prime, his throat was so raspy. It sounded like it was moments away from breaking entirely. “Wait a second,” he called as loud as he could. It took a quick rinse of his hands with some of the water rations he’d saved, a wipe of his cheeks, and careful replacement of the stone that he’d broken to conceal his web of lies. He struggled with a deep breath and steeled himself before he finally opened the door.

“Tommy?” Techno was standing there, looking slightly off-put, which was odd for Technoblade of all people. “You, uh, good? There was some blood back there.”

Shit. Okay, he’d just… play dumb. That’s what he would do. “There was?” He feigned looking around his limbs for any unnoticed cuts, before shrugging.

“Well, I’m pretty, uh, certain it was your blood, seeing as how it was nobody else’s. You sure you didn’t… cough it up or something?”

“Maybe. Don’t think so, though. It’s never really gotten that bad.” Gods, what a lie.

“Are you sure? Because, uh, certain lung issues can cause that.”

“I never said that they couldn’t,” Tommy replied. Avoidance was his best bet.

“I’m just saying, if you did have lung issues, maybe telling someone would be a good idea? I’m surprised you didn’t have signs of them before, considering the amounts of TNT smoke you’ve inhaled.”

He was getting dangerously close, and Tommy didn’t want to stomach the idea of Techno knowing. Sure, it would be nice to be able to confide in someone, but ultimately, it was fruitless. He was on a time limit. That was just the truth.

“Yeah, that’s weird,” he said tightly. “Kind of sounds like it’s my business.”

“I guess.” Techno shrugged. “Either way, I suggest not leaving your coughed-up blood in the ravine next time. I’m lucky I found it before some poor soul stepped in it.”

“I’ll try not to bleed on your stone floors again,” he responded sarcastically. “My deepest apologies, oh great Technoblade.”

Techno just rolled his eyes at that. “And next time, try not to have an argument with Wilbur right outside of my potato farm, too.”

He flushed. So Techno had heard that. Wilbur in all his anger and the consequences of it. He was pretty sure the mark on his face was still clearly visible from where his brother had hit him. “Fancy way to say you eavesdropped. What do you want, anyway? Are you just here to rub it in?”

“Nope. Just saying.”

“Well, you’ve said. Congratulations.” Tommy turned away and looked back at the mirror they’d managed to get from a village, noting the red handprint. Techno seemed to notice his gaze, because Tommy saw him frown in the reflective surface.

“He shouldn’t have hit you. Even if you both were angry, he shouldn’t have done that.”

“He’s never done that before,” Tommy admitted softly. He said he would never hurt me. A cough rose in his throat, but he swallowed down the morning glory petal that came with it.

“If Phil heard about that, he’d be pissed.” Techno crossed his arms. “He’d be upset about this whole situation.”

Phil. It had been a while since he’d thought of his pseudo-father, and even longer since he’d sent a message. A wave of despair coursed through him as he realized he’d probably never see him again, not with the rate the hanahaki was spreading. Despite his best efforts to slow it, it had only gotten worse in the past week. 

Gods, he might only have another week to live. That thought was fucking suffocating, but he forced it down. He could break down when Techno wasn’t expecting an answer from him. 

“I don’t want to get Wilbur in trouble,” he said, because the thought of inviting Phil here only to see them in shambles and to watch Tommy die didn’t sound remotely fair.

“I guess.” Techno shrugged. “But if he does that again, tell me, alright?”

Tommy nodded silently, and before Techno could go, he caught the edge of the piglin hybrid’s cape. “You’re still in touch with Phil, right?”

“Wilbur pretty much forbids me from sending letters to him about what’s been going on, but yeah.”

“Can you tell him…” That I love him, that I’m going to miss him, that I’m sorry. “Can you tell him hi for me?”

Techno looked at him with the same look he’d give Tommy whenever the blonde lied about breaking something when he was younger, the look that meant he knew something but didn’t say anything about it. “Sure.”

Tommy closed the door behind him once Techno was gone and slid down it, muffling a quiet sob. The last message to Phil had made it feel real. He was going to die without ever having the chance to truly live, and there was no chance of stopping it.

If these were his last days, he’d better make them count.

— 

Oh fuckkk, Chat commented as the door closed behind him. That did not go well. The way he talked about Phil! That was so sad, help him. Flower boy do flower things. Lol he’s gonna die in like a week. Stop that! He’ll live, raccoon boy can’t die to this! No way, he’s barfing out whole flowers now. He’s a goner. Rip Tommy! Ghostinnit.

“Phil’s going to absolutely murder me if Tommy dies. There has to be some way to prevent that.”

Bitch tell him! Don’t, this is fun to watch. Tell Phil! Technoprotect! What’s he gonna do tho? Make Wilbur care about Tommy? Just let it happen, he was annoying anyways.

“Or, maybe, I dunno, try and not let him die? I can’t just tell Wilbur, it’s not really my place to, but I also can’t let Tommy die.”

Philll! Wilbur! Tell Dadza! Wilbur still cares! Talk to Tommy! You’re bad at this. 

“I can’t just tell them!” Techno crossed his arms. “I can maybe tell Phil to come over if I do it without Wilbur noticing, and I can try and hint at it, but that’s the most I can do. It’s not my place to tell them.”

Bruh. He’s gonna die. Guys shut up Techno’s doing what he can.

“Look, I’ll send a letter to Phil, and I’ll try to make sure Wilbur doesn’t notice. Happy? Then, I’ll talk to Wilbur.”

Chat seemed to agree to that, so he grabbed some paper and jotted down what he could only hope was a good ‘your-son-is-dying-come-here’ letter.

Philza,

Sorry for the short notice, but Wilbur and Tommy need you. There’s no time for pleasantries and I cannot discuss what exactly has transpired, but it’s extremely important, and we need you here as soon as possible. Take the journey on wing. Come as soon as you can.

As a side note, Tommy sends his regards.

Signed,

Technoblade.

In haste, he rolled it up and climbed up for the surface, where he called for a crow. It responded well with the gift of an iron nugget, so he tied the letter around its foot and sent it off.

“Get that to Phil as soon as you can. Don’t stop until you get there.”

And with that, the bird took off into the night air.

“What are you doing?” Wilbur’s voice was cold behind him.

“Uh… Nothing.” Techno turned around. “Nothing at all.”

“You sent a crow,” Wilbur accused. “Why did you do that? We don’t need Phil getting involved in our problems!”

“I disagree, actually. You and Tommy are living in a ravine, Wilbur.”

“Dad doesn’t need to know that! I told him things were going fine, and they will be. I just need a little time.”

“You’ve had time, Wilbur, and that time’s up. Phil needs to know.”

“It’s not up! Everyone’s fine, I’ve got it under control!” Wilbur argued, clenching his fists.

“Tommy’s not fine. For crying out loud, you hit him. It doesn’t seem like you have everything under control.”

Wilbur’s face contorted with guilt, and then anger. “I did what I had to. He lied to me. It won’t happen again now that he’s learned his lesson.”

“Yep, Phil definitely deserves to know what’s going on. He’s a child, Wilbur. Of course he’s going to break rules. You’re acting like you never snuck out.”

“But Tommy could die! This is for his own good! I don’t want to see him hurt,” he argued, tone slowly transitioning from angry to pleading.

“You’re the one hurting him, Wilbur, if you think him sneaking off with his friend is an excuse to hit him.”

“Tubbo’s not safe, Techno! He’ll turn Tommy over to Schlatt at the drop of a hat, and I’m not letting that happen!”

“Isn’t he spying for you and Tommy, though?”

“Well-” Wilbur started, not looking as convinced as he did a moment ago. “He’s- he’s still on Schlatt’s side.”

“How is he on Schlatt’s side if he’s spying for you and Tommy daily? What has he done that makes you think he’s on Schlatt’s side and not yours?”

“We can’t trust him, Techno! We just can’t. Everyone’s a traitor. They could be- they could be spying! If we’re not in the ravine, we’re not safe.” He cast a nervous look around.

“Well, the letter to Phil’s already been sent, and every minute of conversation I have with you only makes me more thankful for that fact.”

Wilbur looked downright betrayed. “You’re a traitor.”

“I sent a letter to your dad, clearing up the lies you told him, and suddenly I’m a traitor?”

“I didn’t tell him for a reason! You specifically went against my orders as your leader!”

“You are not my leader, Wilbur. I’m an ally. You don’t order me to do anything.” Techno attempted to look and sound as intimidating as he could.

Sure enough, Wilbur took a defensive step back and conceded, “fine. But I don’t want to see your face around the ravine. Keep to yourself, Technoblade, and I’ll do the same.”

Techno nodded. “And one more thing Wilbur. For the love of Prime, please be nicer to Tommy.”

The brunette had the audacity to look confused. “I’m plenty nice to him.”

He’s lucky I care about monetization, Techno thought to himself. “Sure you are."

“I am. Today was just- it doesn’t usually happen like that. And since when did you care about being nice?”

“You don’t see me yelling at Phil, do you? Or hitting him? Or saying whatever you said to Tommy?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t. Phil is as much a part of my family as Tommy is to yours. It really isn’t different.”

“But I’m responsible for him-”

“Then start acting like it. Get your act together, Wilbur Soot. I’ll be waiting until you do.” Techno let out a grumble and retreated back into the ravine, leaving the human speechless behind him.

—

The flowers were getting worse. Despite Tommy’s promise to himself to make his last days count, he spent most of his time locked up in his room trying to wrap his head around what was happening. He was dying. He was losing his third life to his own carelessness and stupidity to follow a man who was losing his mind. 

And the worst part was that Wilbur wouldn’t even care. Sure, maybe he’d feel a little bad, but his love for his brother was unrequited. That’s why he had this stupid fucking disease in the first place. Hell, would he even be mourned? Abandoned by his country, disregarded by his family, and without any achievements other than winning the independence of a place that didn’t even want him anymore. In functionality, he’d done nothing, and he’d never even gotten to be an adult. 

How had he fucked up so badly as to make Wilbur hate him?

More flowers in his throat, more blood spat into a hastily-dug hole. It had become routine at this point, but each session, the amount of flowers were only seeming to increase. He managed five before his lungs gave out. Black danced at the edge of his vision, petals blocking his airway. In panic, he scratched at his throat, trying to force it out, and for a heart-stopping minute, the only thought that ran through his head was, I’m dying.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to say his goodbyes or even prepare. He had his will from the days of the L’Manburg war, but there was more to death than that. He hadn’t made peace with it, he hadn’t even properly said goodbye to Tubbo the last time they spoke. This couldn’t be the end of Tommy’s life. Not like this.

And then, blessedly, just as his life was flashing before his eyes, the flower finally dislodged itself and landed with a gross wet sound on the floor. Shaken, Tommy took deep gulps of air, staring at the plant in front of him. That was too close, much too close than he ever would’ve liked to get to his death. But if it happened once, it was bound to happen again, especially with the increasing intensity.

For all Tommy knew, this was his last day.

He took a bottle of warm honey that Techno had given him as a gift and downed it to fix his scratchy throat. It didn’t work entirely, but it helped and he had more on his mind. With shaking hands, he typed out a message.

You whisper to Tubbo_: can we hang out today?

Tubbo was quick to respond, as he always was, but it felt like forever waiting for him to send the reply.

Tubbo_ whispers to you: i can't today bossman shlatt’s making me do paperowrk

You whisper to Tubbo_: i can help you with it, can you just see me?

Tubbo_ whispers to you: i can in a bit ijust need to get this done

He didn’t have that time. He didn’t have any time. He could have died just minutes before, and there was no guarantee he would have any more time if he kept thinking about this. He needed to get out of his head long enough to say his goodbyes.

You whisper to Tubbo_: it’s really important. i only need a little time but i need to tell you something and i need to see you.

Tubbo_ whispers to you: how important? 

You whisper to Tubbo_: please i really need you right now

Tubbo_ whispers to you: im on my way

He’d already gotten scolded enough for sneaking out, but one more time couldn’t hurt. He needed to tell somebody , and he didn’t think he could bear to keep Tubbo in the dark like this. Besides, he needed at least one last hug.

So, with a hardened resolve, he crept up the stairs of the ravine to meet Tubbo halfway. Sure enough, he saw his friend staring down at his communicator and weaving his way through the trees quickly. 

“Tubbo,” he called out as loud as he could in his scratchy voice, unable to stop the relief from seeping into it.

Tubbo looked up from the communicator. “Tommy! You sound like death itself, are you okay?”

Like death. That deep feeling of discomfort returned at the mention of his fate. It took all of him to admit, “I don’t think so.”

“What’s wrong, then?” Tubbo asked, walking up to him and seemingly scanning Tommy for injuries.

“There’s this-” Tommy sat against a tree, fumbling for words, “-this thing that I haven’t really told anyone. I think Techno knows, and I kind of mentioned it to you, but I just- I don’t know what to do, Tubbo. I think I might- might…” die. The word wouldn’t come out, and Tubbo looked so concerned, he just couldn’t fucking say it. “I think I might be in danger,” he admitted, because it was better than nothing.

“How so? What’s going on?” Tubbo sat down next to him.

Prime, Tubbo looked so worried already, and Tommy hadn’t even told him the full truth. Already, he knew it would be near-impossible. Tubbo would try to find a solution where there was none, get them both in trouble by staying out too long. Maybe, if he couldn’t tell him everything, he could tell him something. 

“It’s Wilbur,” he mumbled. “He’s- he’s not himself.”

“What?” Tubbo blinked. “What’s wrong with Wilbur?”

“He’s suspicious of everyone, he doesn’t trust anyone and gets mad when I leave. He wants to blow up L’Manburg and he yells at me all the time and- and he hit me. We were having an argument and he just… hit me.” He honestly didn’t know he had that much built up inside of him. The moment he opened up about one thing, the words came tumbling out, and yet it still felt like he had a million and one more words to say about how Wilbur had changed for the worse, though Tubbo already looked horrified and downright furious.

Tubbo pulled him into a tight hug. “What the actual fuck is wrong with him?!”

Tommy melted into it, tears already forming at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know. I want to help him, he needs help, but I don’t know how. He already doesn’t care about me and- and-” he took a sharp breath, even though the inhale was painful with his burning throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yell back at him? Quackity does that sometimes, I dunno.”

“I tried, but he never listens. And I don’t want to yell at him, I just- I want my Wilbur back,” he sniffled into Tubbo’s shoulder.

Tubbo hugged Tommy tighter. “I know. I don’t know why the fuck he thinks he gets to treat you like that. I swear, if I were there when it happened, I’d've beaten the shit outta him.”

His communicator buzzed before he could start to defend Wilbur, and he paled.

WilburSoot whispers to you: Where are you, Tommy?

Shit.

You whisper to WilburSoot: im sorry im just with tubbo i forgot to tell you

WilburSoot whispers to you: Get back to Pogtopia. Now.

Tommy cursed quietly. He knew better than to argue with Wilbur. “He noticed I’m gone. I have to go back.” And if he yells at me again, the hanahaki is going to get worse. I’m going to die.

Not like this. Not alone.

Before Tubbo could speak, he pulled his friend into another tearful hug, putting as much love and affection as he could muster into it. “Thank you for being my best friend, Tubbo. I couldn’t imagine anyone else.” His voice broke at the end of the sentiment, both from emotion and damage.

“Tommy?” Tubbo sounded, somehow, more worried than he did the entire conversation. “Tommy, what’s- Seriously, what’s going on? This- You’re acting like you’re going to die soon.” Tubbo said with a nervous laugh. “I mean, thank you, but- why’re you saying this?”

“I’m just feeling sentimental, I guess.” He sniffed and pulled away with a laugh. (Gods, why couldn’t he say it? ) “Emotions and shit. But, seriously, I’ve gotta go. Wil’s waiting.”

Tubbo didn’t look entirely convinced, but nodded. “...Okay. But if Wilbur does anything dumb, tell me and I’ll gladly punch him in the stomach.”

“I will.” He tried not to make his smile pained as he walked away for what he knew to be the final time.

And when he looked back, Tubbo was gone.

— 

Wilbur cared. Despite what seemed to be popular belief now, he did care about things. Most pressingly, his little brother. All the harsh rules and harsh words he’d given Tommy were only precautions for his safety. Wilbur was more than aware of the enemies he’d made. He just wanted to protect Tommy from being used as a hostage or a bartering chip. Being a little rough wasn’t the end of the world if he stayed alive.

So, he’d be a little rough. If Tommy would stop sneaking out when he was clearly sick, he’d be as rough as he needed. Tough love was still love.

So when he heard the pattering of Tommy’s sneakers on stone, he put his best stern face on. “Do we seriously have to have this lecture every single time, Tommy?” He crossed his arms as his little brother stopped in front of him, staring at the ground.

“I’m sorry, Wilbur. I was just with Tubbo, I was safe, I was careful, I was fine.”

“I couldn’t find you! Do you know how that looked when I saw an empty room? I thought you’d gotten kidnapped!” Wilbur snapped.

“I’m not five, Wilbur, I can take care of myself. You don’t need to know where I am every second of the day.”

“Yes, I do!” You’re my little brother. I need to make sure you’re okay. He stopped himself from saying the sentiment aloud, because if he showed softness, Tommy would be hardheaded and do it again. He was a teenager now, and if he was anything like Wilbur, he’d take any crack and break down the walls. “I’m your leader. If I thought you were capable, I wouldn’t have said you’d never be president!”

Tommy looked hurt at that. “I am capable, Wilbur! I was just with Tubbo, we were just talking.”

“You know how I feel about Tubbo. You can’t trust him. You can’t even trust Techno. You can only trust me ,” Wilbur urged. He could already feel the fucking eyes, that feeling of being watched by those who would like nothing more than to take him down once and for all. Fundy, Quackity, Niki… he’d trusted them, and now he was alone in a ditch with only his little brother and a proven traitor. He needed to show Tommy how fickle a thing trust really was.

“I can trust Tubbo! He’s my best friend! He’s on our side.”

“And Fundy is my son, but he still burned our flag. He still broke our walls and betrayed us,” he spat.

“Tubbo won’t betray us! He has no reason to, I can trust him!”

“And how do I know you’re not both scheming against me?” Wilbur leaned down with narrowed eyes, and Tommy backed away nervously. “You think I’m that stupid? You’re going to betray me just like that fox did.”

“Wh- Wilbur! Are you out of your fucking mind?! I’m your brother, why the hell would I betray you? Schlatt kicked me out, too, you know!”

“No, you’re not!” Why was he saying this? “You’re not my brother.” No, no, he didn’t mean any of it. “You’re just some kid I picked up because nobody else wanted you.” No. Stop, he didn’t mean it! “And you’re damn lucky I kept you as long as I did.”

The words were pure poison, and he wanted to take them back the moment they left his lips. Tommy looked downright betrayed, tears pooling in his eyes.

“No, wait-” Wilbur shook his head and reached out, but his hand didn’t make content. Tommy had crumpled, and it soon became evident why. He was coughing and hacking, a lump making his way up his throat. He looked in sheer agony, and Wilbur was beside him immediately. “Wait, wait, wait, Toms? What’s going on? Just- just tell me what’s going on, please. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean any of it, just- Toms.”

But Tommy didn’t seem to hear him, and there was blood on the floor in front of him. A flower followed, stained and splattered with a horrid vermillion that hid its true yellow and blue nature. He picked it up with a trembling hand and stared at it. His brother was still hacking and wheezing, a slow drip-drip-drip of blood coming from the corner of his mouth.

Footsteps. Thank Prime, footsteps. Somebody else was here. He didn’t even register that they didn’t have a cloven quality, he simply thought Techno. Techno could help, Techno had to help. He’d know what to do.

“Tommy, sorry for following you, I had a bad feeling and I decided I could just do the paperwork later.” That wasn’t Techno’s voice. “I was-” Tubbo turned to see Wilbur and Tommy, and looked nothing short of horrified. “What the fuck?!”

“I don’t- I don’t know what happened!” He didn’t even have it in him to comment on Tubbo’s presence. “He just- we were having an argument, and he just started coughing, I don’t know what to do!” 

A couple more flowers and petals laced with blood had already emerged from between Tommy’s lips. The boy was hacking and shaking, gasping for breath in between each pained sound.

Tubbo didn’t hesitate to kneel on his other side and put a hand on his back. “Breathe, Tommy. Breathe. Just- just follow me. Deep inhales.” It was more of an instruction for a panic attack— (how did Tubbo know how to do that at such a young age?)— but it seemed to work to some degree, because the strained breaths in between the coughing lengthened ever-so-slightly. Wilbur could do nothing as more flowers tumbled from his windpipe, ending in a final yellow-and-blue blossom. Once the fit had finally stopped, Tommy went still. His eyes rolled into his head and, before Wilbur could even blink, he’d slumped into Tubbo’s arms, unconscious and bleeding from the mouth.

Tubbo checked Tommy for a pulse, and once he sighed with relief at the fact that there seemed to be one, he looked up at Wilbur. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” Wilbur sputtered. “I didn’t do this! I didn’t even know that he was- was coughing up flowers! That shouldn’t be possible!”

“He’s been talking about lung issues for days, you couldn’t have fucking assumed that maybe something was wrong?!”

“I thought he was just sick! It wasn’t anything major!” Wilbur moved to take Tommy out of Tubbo’s arms, but the goat hybrid stomped his foot in warning and pulled his friend closer to him.

“You didn’t even bother to fucking ask! At least I tried to help him! You couldn’t even fucking do that! And on top of that, you fucking yelled and hit him! What fucking excuse of a brother does that!?”

“I only hit him once! He doesn’t listen to me.” Wilbur tried to defend himself. He already felt awful about slapping Tommy, he hated having to acknowledge it and stand by it. But otherwise, he’d look like a bad leader.

“And?! You shouldn’t have fucking hit him! What if he’d died just now, huh? I bet you’d feel a hell of a lot guiltier.”

His heart clenched. “But he wouldn’t have- he- it wasn’t bad enough that he would have died. He would have told me if it were that bad. He would’ve said something if he knew.”

“He clearly didn’t tell you, but he absolutely fucking knew. Earlier, he- Prime, he was saying goodbye, he knew he was going to die.”

Just those few words made ice go down all of his veins, freezing him in place. “He what? No, no, he couldn’t have been- no .”

“He fucking- I knew something was up! He’s never just randomly ‘feeling sentimental’!”

“What did he say?” Wilbur didn’t even feel betrayed, just horrified. His brother could have died and the last thing he said was some cruel lie he didn’t even mean.

“He said- he said, ‘thank you for being my best friend, Tubbo, I couldn’t imagine anyone else’, and then he left!”

“Fuck,” Wilbur breathed. “Take- take Tommy to his bedroom. You know where it is,” he instructed, sitting back on the hard ravine floor. 

Tubbo didn’t hesitate to follow the order.

Wilbur didn’t know how long he sat there, hands clenched on his head, struggling to make sense of it all. What was that sickness? Why did Tommy hide its severity, why didn’t he just tell Wilbur? 

Well, the answer to that was obvious. He’d been dealing with Tommy wrong, assuming that tough love was the answer when he’d shown none of the love that method promised. Damn it, he’d known Tommy was an empathetic learner. He responded better when he was treated as an equal, as important, and Wilbur hadn’t done that. Why? Why? 

Gods, in moments of clarity like this, he realized just how crowded his mind was. He was having thoughts that weren’t his, saying and doing things that he never would have, that he never meant. Tommy was right, he was out of his fucking mind. He was downright dangerous. 

Maybe the world would be better without him in it.

Click, click, click.

He recognized that sound. It always came right when he needed it, right when he’d made a dumb mistake or needed comfort, followed by a warm hug and a figure he could cry to. Why did he ever want to keep him out of the loop? He’d never been unkind or judgemental about Wilbur’s fuck-ups, he’d only help to fix them. 

“Phil,” he choked out. He sounded like a child again, a guilty child who’d broken the photo frame of his parents. But Phil hadn’t scolded him, he’d understood. He’d put it into a new frame with a ruffle of Wilbur’s hair and a reassurance that nothing was broken forever.

Damn it, Wilbur needed his father again.

“Wilbur?” Phil sat down next to Wilbur and put a hand on his shoulder. “Wilbur, what happened?”

“I fucked up. I fucked up so badly, Phil. I’ve been so horrible and Tommy could have died and I don’t even know what’s wrong with him,” he sobbed out. “I’m losing my fucking mind and Tommy’s dying and I’m scared! I’m so fucking scared!”

“What?! What’s going on with Tommy? What’s going on with you?”

Wilbur latched onto his father and told him, in halting half-sobs, everything that had happened from the truth about L’Manburg to Pogtopia to his inexplicable mood swings and manic thoughts about traitors and eyes. Every word was hard, but Phil didn’t judge, he just listened. 

“-I don’t even know what’s wrong with Tommy, he just- he got sick and I thought it was just a cold, but Tubbo said he said goodbye like he was planning to die and then he just broke down coughing. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, he coughed up flowers . Did somebody poison him or something? Was it Schlatt?” Wilbur wanted somebody to blame so badly, and himself wasn’t a good enough answer. If he could get something concrete, he could get revenge for his little brother, his sunshine. He just needed a name.

“...Flowers?” Phil asked. “He coughed up flowers?”

Wilbur nodded and fumbled with the flower he hardly realized he’d pocketed in his trench coat. He showed it to Phil with furrowed eyebrows. “What does it mean? He was- he was bleeding, too. Have you seen anything like it? Is there a cure?”

“Wilbur, that…” Phil took the flower and studied it. “Wilbur, that’s hanahaki.”

“Hanahaki?”

“Hanahaki. It’s a disease that’s caused by unrequited love, platonic, romantic, or familial. It’s what happens when the person who has it genuinely believes that their care for another person is unrequited. It’s often fatal. It starts off at first with a few petals, but it’s gotten to entire flowers at this point. How he’s made it this far, I don’t know.”

“But who-?” Wilbur didn’t need to finish the question to know the answer. “No. No, but- but I do care, I do, I just thought- I thought I needed to be strict with him, I thought he needed to realize that we can’t trust them. They’re traitors, Phil, he needs to know that! But he thought I didn’t love him, he thought- he thought- I’m a terrible person, I could have killed my brother, I deserve to die,” he rambled. That strange force was trying to puppet him, and he wasn’t sure what part of him was speaking at any given moment.

“You don’t, Wilbur.” Phil wrapped a wing around him. “Saying that kind of thing isn’t going to help. Right now, it seems like you need to figure out what’s going on, and what’s true and what’s not. You never intended for this to happen.”

“I don’t know what’s true, Phil. My mind is playing tricks on me.” He shook his head, still teary.

“Well, what I currently know to be true is that you and Tommy were exiled from L’Manburg, and you live here now, in Pogtopia. Clearly you’re not… well, and you took that out on Tommy when you shouldn’t have. You lied to me in your letters,” Phil didn’t even sound angry about that. “And you ended up causing Tommy to feel unloved, which gave him hanahaki. You hold the belief that anyone and everyone is against you and willing to betray you, from what I can tell, even though that’s not true. You didn’t realize how badly Tommy was affected by all of this until now, when he nearly died.”

He nodded his head and gave a wet laugh. “How are you so- so good at this?”

“Years of experience,” Phil answered with a small smile.

Wilbur let himself smile for a moment more before reality hit again. “How- how do I fix it? How do I save him?”

“It’s… usually very difficult. Physical cures are quicker but dangerous, expensive, and have side effects I’m sure neither you nor Tommy would appreciate very much. The only thing you really can do is show him that you do care about him, stop with the strict tough-love bullshit, tell him you care. Then, hopefully, the flowers should wilt, but… I’m not certain they will.”

“...What if he dies?” It was nearly unthinkable, but it was a real possibility. Would he even be able to live with himself if Tommy did die?

“Then… you’ll need to show him you care as much as you can before he does.”

Wilbur dragged himself to his feet and looked back at Phil. “I need to see him.”

Phil smiled. “Go.”

And Wilbur did.

— 

Tommy woke up. 

Honestly, it was more than he was expecting, considering his condition, but he was grateful nonetheless. Another day alive meant another day he got to truly say his goodbyes. He knew Wilbur knew now, since that whole scene had taken place in front of him, but he wasn’t sure if Tubbo’s voice was real or fake. If it had really happened, then he knew, too. That made it a lot easier and a lot harder at the same time.

Trying to breathe as deeply as he could, Tommy pushed himself up in bed, only for a hand to gently push him back down. 

Oh. It looked like Tubbo really had been there.

“He- hey, Tubs,” he croaked, wincing at the sound of his own broken voice.

“You almost fucking died! Don’t just ‘hey, Tubs’ me! You could’ve died!” Tubbo sounded frustrated and worried. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

“I tried. I wanted to, you were just- just there. I knew you’d try to find a solution when there wasn’t one, and that would have made us both miserable,” he admitted.

“I’d still want to know! I don’t care if it’d be sad. You should’ve told me that you were dying!”

Tommy flushed. “Well, then you would have asked about what it was and it’s fucking embarrassing.”

“I don’t care if it’s fucking embarrassing, Tommy! You’re dying! I want to know what’s going on.”

“You want to know?” Tommy sighed and pulled the book out of his inventory, flipping it to the page he’d read a thousand times. As he passed it to Tubbo, the only word he said was, “Wilbur.”

Tommy saw the exact moment Tubbo realized what it was, because his expression morphed into one of disbelief and horror. “What the fuck?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. Because Wilbur doesn’t fucking care, and I can’t make him. And what else can I do? There’s no surgeon on the server, and I don’t have the resources to pay if there was one. So I’m going to get the stupidest fucking death imaginable. Killed by fucking emotion flowers.” He shook his head even thinking about it. “Please don’t put that on my gravestone.”

“You can’t just die, Tommy! Could- what about- there’s no way to help you?”

He shook his head. “If there was, I wouldn’t be dying. But there’s something this version of Wilbur taught me.” Tommy sighed and stared at the ceiling. “When nothing is working, it’s better to just give up. Spare yourself the pain of hoping.”

“But there has to be a way! You can’t just give up when your life is literally on the line! I can’t lose you, Tommy!”

“But we don’t have a choice,” he responded quietly. “We never had a choice. I’ve thought about it from all angles, there’s just- there’s no chance, Tubs.”

“But- Tommy, you can’t just die like that! We did not go through war for you to die because of a fucking plant!”

“Embarrassing, innit?” Tommy smiled wearily, and Tubbo just wrapped him in a tight hug.

“What am I going to do without you? I’m- What even am I without you?”

“Yourself,” he answered, hugging back. “You’re going to live like you always have, and you’re going to kick ass, even without me.”

“But- Tommy , you’re my best friend! I don’t- I can’t just live normally without you.”

“Yes, you can. Healing from grief and all that shit. I want you to move on after this. Don’t forget me, but move on,” Tommy instructed. “And you’re going to do fucking great things. You’re gonna take Schlatt down for me, and stop Wil from destroying L’Manburg.”

“Not without you! I can’t do any of that shit alone!”

“Then with Techno. With Wilbur himself, maybe with Niki. You’re not alone, Tubbo.”

“They’re not the same as you! You’re my best friend! I can’t just get a fucking new one!”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Tubbo just choked out a sob and hugged him tighter.

As much as he would have liked to hold on forever, the door slammed open, followed by the face that made thorny vines writhe painfully in his chest. To his surprise, he coughed up a small petal at the mere sight of Wilbur, who winced. Tubbo moved in front of him protectively, as if to shield him from his brother.

(Not brother. Wilbur had said himself, they were no longer brothers. It took all his effort not to let loose another flower at the memory.)

“Tommy, I-” Wilbur began, but cut himself off with a long sigh. “I didn’t know you were- I didn’t know this was happening to you.”

He took a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he rasped, because what else was he supposed to say? “Because I didn’t tell you.”

“Why?” Wilbur asked. “I would’ve helped!”

“Would you have?” He didn’t mean to laugh, but the breathy sound came out anyway. He was so tired of being disregarded. “Or would you have just said I was lying or that it was just a cold. Besides, it’s not like you can really help it. That’s just… not how things work.” I can’t make you care.

“I- I would have helped! I didn’t know this was going on! I do care, Tommy! I do, and I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t.”

What?  

He tried to gauge how genuine Wilbur was being, or if it was just one of his temporary apologies. Because, no, he’d developed an entire disease around the fact that Wilbur didn’t care. Maybe he was just trying to stop Tommy from dying by saying that? But if he didn’t give a shit, then why would he? What was his goal here, and why was it so hard to understand?

“You know,” he said, instead of trying to figure out what was real and fake. It wasn’t a question. There was something in Wilbur’s tone that said that the mention of love wasn’t a coincidence.

“And I promise I never wanted to make you feel like I didn’t care. I know I’ve been a shit leader- a shit brother these past few months, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with that. I never meant to say the things I said, and I’m sorry.” Wilbur continued apologizing as if he hadn’t heard Tommy.

“Why?” He asked. “If you didn’t mean it, then why- why did you say it? Why did you put me through that?” He grasped for Tubbo’s hand, and the goat hybrid silently took it.

“I don’t know . And I shouldn’t have, and now you’re fucking dying because of it, and I’m sorry.”

Tommy wanted to scream at Wilbur. He wanted to hug Wilbur. He wanted to ask ‘why, why, why? ’ until he finally got an answer he could make sense of. He wanted to make Wilbur see what his actions had done and make him hurt and grieve. 

But in the end, he could only clutch his chest and try to keep it together as the thorns twisted and writhed. They didn’t grow, but they seemed to be putting up an objection to Wilbur’s apology and Tommy’s inherent need to accept. They wanted him to hate, they wanted him to forgive, and Tommy didn’t know what to do. 

Before Tommy could react, Wilbur had pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry.” He repeated. “I’m so sorry, Tommy.”

This was his brother. He had always been. And no amount of sadness could make Tommy hate him. It might have been unhealthy, it might have been dangerous in any other situation, but he knew Wilbur would never intentionally hurt him. Not in his right mind.

So Tommy gently pulled his hand from Tubbo’s and hugged back.

“I forgive you,” he whispered.

This version of Wilbur was flawed. He wasn’t perfect, but he was there . They could get through these issues together and alive. The old Tommy and Wilbur were gone, the ideal replaced by the real, and though it was sad, there was no use mourning. The blue and yellow Wilbur that had been the perfect older brother was gone, but Wilbur was still here. He was still alive. They were both still alive.

With that realization, with the connection of this Wilbur to the old one, the vines seemed to realize their defeat. The thorns in his chest finally relinquished their hold, shrivelling up, and Tommy was free.

Well, not quite. There was still a plant in his chest, though it was dead, and several punctures where thorns had been just seconds before. The feeling of liquid in his lungs was unfamiliar and panic-inducing. His face twisted in pain and disgust, and he pulled away from Wilbur, grabbing his brother’s hand with one of his own and pointing to his chest with the other.

“Oh shit-” Wilbur looked away and yelled, “ Phil! Phil!”

Phil? What was he talking about? Phil wasn’t here . But oddly enough, he heard the clicking of his pseudo-father’s talons against the cold stone floors. There was indistinct talking around him as he retched the blood out on the floor beside the bed. It could easily be mined, it wasn’t too big of a deal, and he didn’t have anything else to bleed onto.

And then, like all the times before, he was coughing up the contents of his lungs, desperate to get them out of his chest for good. There was a warm hand on his back, coaxing him to get it out of his system. 

There was no contest; the main plant was the worst of it. The thorns scratched as they came up, sending fire itself through his throat. He wanted to stop, wanted to get a second to recover from the pain, but his airway was blocked already and if he paused, he would end up choking. Damn it, he wanted to live , and if that meant going through pain, he would.

For Tubbo. For Phil. For Techno. For Wilbur.

The wilted stems finally dropped onto the ground with the blood. A health potion was quickly put to his lips. It felt like hell itself to drink, but he managed it anyway. If he was going to live, he had to do it.

By the end of the ordeal, he was exhausted again. The blood might not have been dripping anymore, but there was still damage in his throat, so much so that he dreaded the mere idea of speaking. Instead, he blindly reached out for Wilbur and clung tight.

“It’s okay, it’s over, you’re okay.” Wilbur whispered to him, hugging Tommy tightly.

Despite the pain he was in, he let out a breathy sigh and closed his eyes against his brother.

Everything would be okay.

— 

In the end, Tommy recovered from his hanahaki. Getting rid of the main plant had been, essentially, the cure, though Phil still kept a close eye on his recovery. Things weren’t all perfect, but they were getting better. Tommy and Tubbo spent a lot of time together, same with him and Wilbur. 

Speaking of Wilbur, he was finally working out his issues with Puffy. In the end, it had boiled down to a combination of mania and trust issues, both of which were being treated with care. Tommy got a few sessions of his own to talk out what was happening. Or, well… write.

That was another thing. The thorns of the plant had damaged his throat badly, to the point of which he couldn’t talk for the first few months after he’d recovered. Even after that, transitioning into talking was a rocky slope and he tended to use sign or writing to aid his speech whenever a word was too rough on his throat. Tough, but much, much better than dying.

(And if he could use it to playfully guilt-trip Wilbur, all the better.)

As for the Schlatt situation, he’d died from a heart attack. Though it was anticlimactic, Tommy really didn’t find himself too surprised; the man had been drinking himself half to death already. It was better Schlatt than anyone else in the afterlife. Quackity had taken his place as president and, predictably, reinstated Tommy and Wilbur’s citizenship. The whole ordeal was a dark stain on L’Manburg’s history at this point, and he preferred to keep it like that. 

About five months after his recovery, Tommy found himself pulling at Wilbur’s arm, urging him out. The day was bright and sunny, perfect for getting out there. It would be good for Wilbur’s recovery to have some sunlight. “Follow, follow,” he urged. “It’s a nice day, we should-” he switched to sign for the lower ‘g’ sound of go outside . “Tubbo-” waiting, he signed.

“Tommy, I’m in the middle of something.” Wilbur shook his head. “Maybe later?”

He huffed, crossed his arms, and let out a light cough. It was a nonverbal, mostly lighthearted signal between the two that Tommy was being ignored. Plus, it acted as a small guilt-trip, so Tommy could get what he wanted more often than not. He’d asked, one day, if Wilbur was bothered by it, and he said that it was important to know if Tommy felt ignored, so the blonde took that as a go-ahead.

Wilbur looked down at him and sighed. “Fine. But after, I need to get back to what I was doing, okay?”

He smiled triumphantly and nodded, subsequently dragging his brother out the door and into the sunlight. L’Manburg was beautiful at this time of year, all green and dotted with flowers, interrupted only by the quaint little houses lining its streets, also decorated with bright blossoms. Honestly, it was something akin to a miracle Tommy hadn’t lost his taste for the plants. For some reason, he couldn’t help but admire them. Outside of his lungs, of course.

His brother seemed equally charmed by the landscape, and Tommy grinned. It was good for the brunette’s mental state to get plenty of sunlight, so he knew he’d won the battle threefold. “Told you,” he teased.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It is a nice day, I guess.”

“Just say I’m ri- right,” he giggled, a breathy sound. “I’m the best.”

Wilbur put a hand on Tommy’s head and ruffled the blonde’s hair. “You were right. Happy?”

He nodded his head in satisfaction. “Now come, come. Tubbo is there. Bench. With new friend.” He paused, trying to figure out a way to say it that wouldn’t stress his throat. He resorted to finger-spelling RANBOO. “Name. He’s nice.”

“...That’s not his actual name, is it?” Wilbur asked.

“It is. Poor bitch.”

Wilbur laughed at that and agreed, “Poor bitch, indeed.”

“He’s also tall,” Tommy noted in distaste. “Huge. And nervous.” He was careful to avoid stepping on flowers as he walked through the ankle-length grass.

“Taller than me?” Wilbur asked, snorting. “He better not be, I’m the tall one.”

“Maybe,” he said seriously. “As tall, at least.”

“Prime, how tall is that kid?”

“Definitely taller, actually. Maybe-” seven, he signed, “feet. Half enderman.”

“Half enderman? What else is he half of?”

He shrugged. “Not human.” Before he could say much else, he crouched down next to a familiar flower. A blue morning glory. It looked much better growing where it belonged.

Wilbur crouched down next to the flower as well. “It looks nicer in the ground.” He commented. And without the bloodstains.

“Mmm-hmm.” He lapsed into silence for a moment, reaching out to cradle the vibrant bloom. “I don’t hate it. Don’t think I c- an.” That was a hard word for him to say still, but he shook his head and continued. “Reminds me of you.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Good, he signed. “Like when we were-” kids. He smiled as he made the gesture. 

“And you say I’m sappy,” Wilbur teased.

Tommy stood, leaving the morning glory swaying in the wind. It belonged in the past, just like the hard feelings and good memories alike.

“Bitch,” he shot back playfully as he came to his full height. The banter continued, fading into the distance. The blue and yellow flower was left behind in its full beauty, but not forgotten.

Never forgotten.

—