Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Wait! Don’t leave me!” Tommy yelled as he chased after his friends. They’re walking away, leaving him behind, not even turning back to look at him. 

He called out after them again before reaching out his hand as he caught up to them, but it phased right through their backs and they dissolved into wisps of smoke. Tommy fell to his knees as he held his hands close to his heart. 

It happened again. They’ve all left him alone.

His hands and legs suddenly felt as if they’d caught on fire. He pulled up his sleeves in panicked haste. His many scars were a bright angry red as if they were fresh again. Tommy hissed in pain and brought his arms up to his chest, holding them as they burned. 

No one can help. He only had himself.

Tommy curled into himself and let out a pained scream, tears forming and falling. 

It hurt. Everything hurt. Someone help him. Please.

No one can. No matter how much he begged and cried. He was alone.

-----

Tommy jolted awake, breathing heavily. It was just another dream. He sat up on his bed and rolled up his sleeves then unwrapped his bandages to check his scars. They were still there, but no longer a bright shade of red. They were now faded, contrasting against the parts of his skin that were unscathed more subtly than if they were bright red and fresh.

Sometimes, he would wonder what his skin would look like if his body wasn’t practically frozen in time, never aging, never healing- well, for the old scars anyway. 

Would the scars be gone now that they would have time to properly heal without a new injury disrupting the process or would they still be a permanent mark on Tommy’s body, forever serving to remind him of his past? The only wounds that could heal now were the ones he got after getting the curse of immortality, not the ones from all the wars and torture in exile from before.

Because of this, Tommy now had to deal with scars painting nearly every part of his body with no hope of them ever fully healing for the rest of his never-ending life. 

At least they had all mostly healed over by the time he was cursed so he wasn’t stuck with a forever-bleeding wound. However, they still stung from time to time, especially after having dreams like the one he just woke up from to remind him how they felt back when they weren’t completely healed over. 

He sighed, burying his face in his hands. This is the 3rd time this week he has had a dream like this.

F### DreamXD, he was a proper prick and Tommy hated him with every fabric of his being for not only cursing him but also mentally tormenting him. If XD wasn’t a literal god, Tommy would’ve punched his stupid masked face. 

He especially hated how XD was a lot like Dream, in appearance, a tendency to find Tommy's suffering entertaining, and how much Tommy hated both of them. Well, they did technically share a name and Dream was DreamXD’s creation if he remembered correctly.

But anyway, the point was that DreamXD was the reason why Tommy had deep bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. Well, DreamXD and his deep-rooted trauma but he was choosing to ignore that in favor of blaming XD. The prick deserved it anyway for cursing him.

At least it was Saturday so he didn’t have to go to work. He didn’t feel like lying around his apartment either, though. 

So, Tommy shuffled out of bed to get ready to go out. He should probably change his bandages too.

-----

Tommy did what he always did every morning. 

He got out of bed, ate a basic breakfast, brushed his teeth, combed through his ruffled hair, put on his favorite red hoodie and a pair of jeans then headed out after grabbing his backpack and phone. 

He had done the same thing every morning for ages all alone. He doesn't have his friends to accompany him anymore, he’s outlived them all.

So now, he was left by himself in this modern world. At least he was given a chance to slowly adjust to the advancements in society as they were being made over the decades. 

He mostly just hated how certain things weren’t legal anymore. Well- maybe he was a little glad those laws existed so he could mostly avoid getting attacked himself and that his property wouldn’t get destroyed by someone else(ignoring all of the wrong’uns that decide to commit those crimes anyway). 

Back in the SMP, his house got griefed way too much for his liking and he eventually gave up on making it look decent, so it was nice to have a home that wouldn’t get destroyed constantly. 

He also would never die from any attempt on his life, but it was still a painful experience that Tommy would rather not experience again.

It was very different to the Dream SMP, whether it was because he no longer lived there(he hated living on the secluded island of the SMP alone) or because humanity had advanced. 

Either way, as long as he can adapt to the changes of the world, Tommy can live comfortably. Well, as comfortably as he can, considering his situation.

It was Tommy’s day off- yes, he had a job- so he just walked around the city with his headphones on and music playing. 

It was a calm day in the city. Tommy could faintly hear the buzz of city noises like cars and people. The smell of the city smog and the constant noise of the city was something he was used to now. He remembered how he used to hate the smell of pollution and how it would sting his eyes. He remembered how overwhelmed he used to get at all of the noise and people walking around. 

He would lock himself in his shoddy apartment for weeks until he eventually got antsy and went out to get food. That was decades ago by now, so of course he adjusted to it.

Tommy looked up at the cloudy grayish-blue sky and thought about his life these past several decades. 

At first, things were painfully lonely. Back then, Tommy still hadn’t gotten over the deaths of his friends, and the hole in his heart they left was still new and bleeding. 

He made a few friends throughout the years, but none were like the ones he lost. He began to distance himself from people since he would outlive anyone he got close to anyway.

Tommy always told himself that it would be easier that way. But was that really the truth? It was harder to heal now that he was alone and his heart ached whenever there was no one to cause chaos with or make jokes with. It ached whenever he saw people around him hanging out with their friends or family when he had none anymore.

Now that pain had dulled. Not because the wound had healed or anything, but rather because he had simply gotten used to the ache of loneliness. It will always be present as long as he continues to live without his friends. 

And he knew that would be forever.

Tommy remembered being so angry at the entire world for having to deal with this curse and while there was still some anger in him, he was more numb to everything now that more than 200 years have passed. It wasn't like he could stay constantly angry forever. 

However, Tommy was a stubborn being so while he wasn’t angry 24/7, it was simmering inside him just waiting to lash out. Usually at XD whenever he decided to visit Tommy in his dreams.

Despite the fact over two centuries have passed, there were still conflicts inside of him that he hadn’t been able to figure out, mostly regarding his old life in the Dream SMP and the people in it. Especially the people he used to(and maybe still does) consider his family figures.

They were all controversial people and he couldn’t decide if he should still hate them or not after what they did. 

It was kind of funny how long it was taking him to decide how he felt about people who died more than two centuries ago. Yet, the thought of his family figures continued to split him apart.

One side of him wanted to forgive them for all they had done because of how much he admittedly still truly loved them but another part refused to let them get away with such crimes despite them being long gone. 

It was just a mess in his thoughts if he ever decided to think about the subject. 

So, instead of attempting to resolve his inner conflicts, he just decided to ignore them, despite how that likely wouldn't end well. Mostly for his mental health.

Tommy ignored many things in favor of pretending he had a normal life as an average teenager who lived alone and supported himself. That was basically what his life had been reduced to now that there was no more drama, no more wars to be a part of, and no more roles to be forced into.

Although this new lifestyle was mostly peaceful, it was boring as s###. Nothing much was interesting anymore to a person who had seen basically everything. 

The only thing Tommy found at least a little interesting was the internet which he supposed made sense since there was so much to see and so much going on there. Some amusing, some weird, and some outright concerning. 

But, it was enough to entertain Tommy for a few more decades since the internet was constantly changing. One day the internet is obsessing over some celebrity and the next, they’re debating if the world was flat. Which… Sometimes, Tommy wonders if those people have brain cells.

Something suddenly caught Tommy's attention. He stopped on the sidewalk and looked to his side. There was a new store. The posters on the window hint that it was a music store and that they had a wide variety of discs and records. Tommy, for once, was interested and entered the shop. 

There was the sound of chiming bells as he opened the door. The store was small but still housed many records and discs, likely organized so that you could find things easier. 

The shop was empty except for the person at the register looking at their phone. Soft music played and the store overall had a very peaceful atmosphere. Tommy turned to the person at the cash register. 

They looked unique, to say the least. They had half-black and half-white hair(which Tommy knows are fairly common colors to dye hair), two different colored eyes, warm brown and a muddled green, and patches of darker skin around their face. Tommy actually quite liked their appearance, maybe for how unique it was.

They seemed strangely familiar, but Tommy couldn’t quite place why. He ignored the feeling and walked up to the counter, causing the person to look up from their phone.

“Hello, what can I do for you?” The cashier greeted in a deep American accent. Their voice seemed familiar as well.

“Hi, uhm… I’m looking for a few certain record discs.” Tommy said, fiddling with the edges of his hoodie sleeves as he usually did when talking to someone as if they would be able to see the bandages Tommy wore despite the sleeves falling past his wrist and stopping halfway down his palm.

“Which ones?” They replied, slightly tilting their head.

“Cat and Mellohi. I don’t really know the composer’s name though.”

“Ooh, those are classics. I’m surprised you even know about them. I haven’t met anyone else that actually knew those songs since they are centuries old.”

Tommy let out a weak laugh. If only they knew. “Yeah, I, uhm… Found those discs in my parents’ attic, but I lost 'em, so I’m trying to find a replacement. They were important to me.” He partially lied. While he most definitely did not find them in an attic, he did clearly care a lot about the discs. He did risk a lot for them in the past after all.

“Well, unfortunately, we don’t have it in the store last I checked since we just opened, but we are going to have a big load of record discs coming in tomorrow. You can come back then if you’d like.”

“Oh… Okay, thanks.” Tommy said. He was admittedly a bit disappointed, but at least there was a chance he might finally be able to regain his lost discs, well, a version of them anyway. 

In the past, Tommy probably would’ve refused to settle with only a copy of his beloved discs, but things were different now. 

There was no way he’d be able to get back his original discs this time. It wasn't like how it was more than 200 years ago. 

They’re long gone, probably shattered and abandoned in who knows where by now. So, Tommy will take what he can get.

Who knows, maybe it’ll be the beginning of finding other lost pieces of his life. Like-… No, they’re gone and always will be.

And they aren’t coming back.

Chapter Text

Tommy exited the store and went back to walking around the city. He didn’t really know what to do now. 

Most days, he’d just walk around the city, but he didn’t feel like just wandering around like a lost ghost.

(A yellow sweater stained with blue, cold grey skin but a cheerful smile and bright, pupil-less eyes-)

Tommy came across the city park and decided to spend his time there instead. He does have all the time in the world after all. 

But what’s the point if he has to spend that time alone?

He walked farther into the park and looked around him. There were a few people walking around. People walking dogs, friends hanging out, family bonding, couples chatting. 

Every single person had someone to talk to, someone to have fun with. But Tommy was all by himself.

He found a big oak tree and sat under the shade. For lack of a better thing to do since he left his journal on his bedside table back at his apartment, Tommy settled on looking around the park and the people in it.

There was a pair of friends sitting on a bench, laughing like they had no other care in the world. It reminded Tommy of him and Tubbo, back before all the drama of the SMP happened. 

When they would just sit on their bench near the cliff and listen to Tommy’s beloved discs while looking at the view ahead of them and chatting about whatever stupid thing they wanted to talk about. Tommy enjoyed those times and he will never forget them. He will never forget Tubbo.

He will eventually, it’s inevitable with time.

No! He refused to listen to that negative voice in his head even if a part of him knew it was true. He turned to the other side of the park, looking for something to distract him.

In a spot nearby, he saw two people sitting on a picnic blanket that was spread on top of the grass. One was playing the guitar as the other listened intently. They were like Wilbur and Tommy from the past.

Tommy thought back to when Wilbur would play his guitar for Tommy and he would just listen like it was the only sound in the world. That was before all the L’manberg chaos though. 

Even before Wilbur had left to presumably "Utah"(which Tommy wasn’t naive enough to believe), there weren’t many times that Tommy heard Wilbur’s guitar playing after Wilbur was revived. He missed Wilbur’s music. He missed Wilbur .

But he did horrible things. He hurt so many people, he blew up L’manberg!

Tommy shook his head. No. He can’t start thinking about them now. He refused to have an internal crisis in a random park at the moment.

He quickly stood up to leave the park before any more memories could resurface in his mind. He was getting hungry anyway.

-----

Tommy began to walk towards the restaurant he usually ate at, passing the other shops and stores. The place he usually ate at was just a basic fast food place. Cheap, but not terrible, and usually not too crowded.

Tommy found out how much he disliked crowded rooms a long time ago while trying to eat at a popular restaurant a while back. It was around the time when he had just left the island of the SMP and moved into a s###ty inn for a few days. 

The loud noises of people and the tightness of moving around caused Tommy to panic. It was too much for him. Too loud, too busy, too crowded. 

After he ate, he practically ran out of the place. Well, as much as he could in a tight place like that. Another reason he hated overcrowded places. 

If there was a need to make a quick escape, there was no way you'd be able to get out in time in a room like that. You’d be as good as dead in a dangerous situation in a place like that.

He ordered his usual, just a simple chicken wrap and a side of waffle fries because no matter how many years it’s been, Tommy still has problems with eating big meals without getting nauseous. He hated how he was still affected by his time in exile after all these years, no matter how minor the effects were.

 Tommy took a seat at his favorite spot, a table for two next to the window. He always sat on the side of the table that had a perfect view of the door because no matter how safe he might be now, Tommy was still paranoid as f###. Growing up in war will do that to you.

Tommy closed his eyes and listened to the faint music as he waited for his order to be called, trying not to let his thoughts drift into a topic he would rather avoid. It was harder than usual because of the memories that resurfaced back at the park.

Once it’s called, Tommy got up. He walked to get his order, quietly thanked the worker, and sat back at his table.

Tommy just sat there for a moment, still and silent, lost in his thoughts. Then, he looked up at the other seat in front of him. The empty seat in front of him. 

Tommy imagined someone sitting there. He could imagine Tubbo, Wilbur, maybe Puffy, or even Quackity sitting there since they seemed like the kind of people who would join him in eating out. He imagined how they would casually chat and laugh loudly and unapologetically if they were here with him. 

They would light up the drab atmosphere with their laughter and fill the space with warmth. He couldn't achieve that all by himself though.

Tommy sighed. They should really include a place to sit that doesn’t make a person feel lonely.

He then began to eat, turning to look out the window instead of the empty seat in front of him. The sun was already starting to set, a mix of oranges, yellows, and pinks swirling in the sky to create a beautiful scene. 

Has it been that long already? Just how long did he spend wandering around the city? 

Time seemed to pass by so fast now. Maybe that’s a good thing. It might make this eternal life pass by quicker. 

But what’s the point? It’ll never end anyway.

Tommy crumpled up the wrapper and threw away his trash, setting the tray above the trash can. He actually managed to finish his food for once which was nice.

He headed out and made his way home. As Tommy walked to his apartment complex, he thought to himself. 

Maybe he should find another hobby besides sewing and sketching(which he only did every once in a while). Maybe it would help take his mind off the past and give him something to do for a while until he eventually got bored of it in some years. 

But what should he do? Eh, he’ll figure it out eventually.

He did have all the time in the world after all.

-----

By the time Tommy arrived back at his apartment, the sun still hadn’t completely set. He didn’t really feel like going to sleep early, but only because he didn’t want his sleep schedule to get ruined. 

Yep. That’s the only reason. Definitely did not have anything to do with the nightmare he had this morning that he’d rather not have for the 4th time this week. Nope.

So, because it was too early to sleep, Tommy decided to work on stitching the coat he was currently working on. It was a replica of the coat Wilbur wore during Pogtopia all the way up until he left the SMP island.

Sure, Pogtopia wasn’t the best time and just the subject of Wilbur alone caused an internal crisis on most days, but Tommy still missed Wilbur and this replica of his coat could help him remember how Wilbur used to look all those years ago. 

And even better, it won’t have the scent of smoke and ash clinging to it like the original coat had! 

Tommy always hated that smell because of the memories it brought up. It also served as a constant reminder of how much Wilbur had changed and what he did. Tommy didn’t like thinking about that.

Which was why it was great that the coat replica Tommy was making wouldn’t have the same stench! Other than that, it should be nearly identical to the original. 

Hopefully, Tommy remembered all the details. He had Wilbur’s old measurements from when he was working on the L’manberg uniforms since his old journal was the best place to scribble them down and for some reason, after he got cursed, his journals, photos, and other items from the past barely aged with time. 

Of course, they could still get lost or damaged but they never got worn or faded. Nearly half of his journals should have yellow and fragile pages, falling apart by the seams, but they were still perfectly intact and readable. 

That was probably one of the only things he was grateful about for this curse. Tommy didn’t really know why his past belongings didn’t age with time but it was still nice nonetheless.

Tommy grabbed the nearly finished piece of clothing off the coat rack in his room that it was hanging on. It was close enough to being done so he was able to do that without worrying about it falling apart. All that needed to be added were the accents and details.

He rummaged around one of the coat pockets to grab the old photograph he put there. It was a picture of Wilbur just doing Wilbur things after he was revived. It conveniently showed nearly every detail of the coat from the black accents to the pins and patches in the fabric.

The photo was taken around the time Tommy and Wilbur had smoothened their relationship a bit more, not too long before Wilbur left. 

Tommy was glad he decided to take a quick picture while Wilbur wasn’t looking. It was probably the last one he took of Wilbur before he left.

He sighed and placed the photograph on the arm of the dark wooden chair in this room. 

Tommy got all the things he needed and sat on the chair, putting on some music on his phone to listen to as he worked.

He loved when he had a peaceful moment like this, just doing the repetitive motions of sewing without having to think too hard about it as music filled his room. 

That was one of the reasons this life can be better than the one he had before even if he was alone. 

In this life, Tommy had time to himself to just enjoy the moment. Tommy could finally find peace.

No longer did he have to be wary about getting attacked, worry about his safety, or about people stealing his things to use against him. It was at times like this where he didn’t have to think about the bad things that happened in his past and the empty hole in his heart. 

Tommy liked having moments like this, peace like this.

He didn’t even have to worry about his peace getting interrupted! And prime, that would have been a miracle in itself in the past!

Even though his life had become mundane, whenever he found time for relaxation, it was rarely interrupted by a new problem to deal with, a new challenge to face, another battle to fight. And gone were the expectations that came from his past life.

The expectation to always be alert and ready, the expectation to always have to fight and use violence to get your point across, the expectation to grow up and act mature. The expectation to be prepared to kill , to shoot a perfect headshot, to make the final blow. The expectation of just… Well, everything . It used to weigh heavy on Tommy's shoulders, the weight of it all, the pressure .

Now Tommy could just breathe. While it's a bit too late to act like the child he was supposed to be, he was allowed to relax. He was allowed to enjoy something he liked. He was allowed to just be .

When Tommy was having a calm moment like this, he found that things that would usually bring bad memories or thoughts didn’t anymore. That was probably a good thing since he was currently working on a copy of Wilbur’s old coat.

Tommy found that making or finding replicas of past items he had brought a sense of comfort. Of course, only if they were copies of things that resembled some sort of good thing from his past. He actually had quite a few replicas of things that reminded Tommy of the past in his room. 

There was a compass sitting on his bedside table with scratchy text saying “Your Tubbo” carved into it in reference to the compass Ghostbur gave him during exile that would point him to where Tubbo was. This one obviously didn’t since it wasn’t the same special kind of compass and the location and person it was supposed to track no longer existed, but it was good enough.

 There was a handstitched L’manberg flag hanging on the wall next to his bed. It resembled the flag before it was burnt down and replaced with the altered Manberg flag.

Tommy even had a wall covered in drawings that were similar to old photographs from the past. Tommy actually got quite good at drawing as the centuries went by, when he would pass the time by sketching faces and places he remembered. It helped Tommy remember his life in the Dream SMP better.

He had drawings of the people who used to be his friends, only a few stayed his friend up until their death though. Drawings of places he remembered like his and Tubbo’s bench, some places in Snowchester, Techno’s and Phil’s houses, and a few others.

There was also a small dresser dedicated to his past items from the Dream SMP. In the larger drawer, there was his old torn-up clothing folded up: his classic red and white t-shirt, the white long-sleeve shirt he used to wear underneath, the tan cargo pants, and even the worn green bandana that was filled with holes long before he was even cursed. Tommy was able to patch up the holes in the clothes. In the small drawers, there was an assortment of various items he kept on him when he left the SMP island.

And then in the center of the top of the dresser, there was a small decorated box. That one held all the photographs taken from the past. Some random photos of his friends, some pictures taken during those rare happy and peaceful moments, and a few photos of places he liked. The group photo that was taken not long before the first war of L’manberg was also stored there. 

Even though it was currently stored in the memory box, Tommy had ingrained nearly every detail of the photo in his mind. He could perfectly visualize how they were all smiling brightly, full of hope and love for their nation.

Back when they had no blood on their hands; when they were allowed to enjoy themselves. If only it stayed like that.

But as quite a few have said, it was never meant to be.

What Tommy wanted to know was why it was never meant to be. Why did L’manberg become a doomed nation, when did it become a doomed nation in the first place?

What did they do to deserve having to fight war after war, only to see L’manberg get destroyed again and again? Only for it to get blown up one last time and never repaired. Forever a crater, the faded remains of a once great and glorious nation, reduced to rubble again and again by the people who thought it was never meant to be.

If those people never thought that, would there still be hope? Would it have stood tall and proud for just a bit longer? Hell, would Tommy not be sitting here, in 2023, alone and empty?

Nope, no more depressing thoughts about the past! Tommy’s here now and there is nothing he can do about the past. All he could do now was to at least try to enjoy it as much as he could. Yeah. Try.

Tommy realized that in the midst of his spiraling, he stopped threading the needle through the coat. He picked up where he left off and took note of how much progress he had made so far.

The black accents on the shoulders were almost completely attached by now. Once he’s done with that, he just needs to add the little patches Wilbur had on his coat before. The little L’manberg flag, the random salmon pin that was there for some reason, and a few other random pins and patches that Tommy had no idea where Wilbur got from.

The patches will be fairly easy to remake, he’ll just have to cut small pieces of cloth, sew them together, and do some embroidery if needed, but the pins are going to be a bit harder to replicate.

He could commission someone to make them. Then again, asking someone to make pins with a salmon and a collection of weird designs and stupid quotes would be pretty awkward… 

Eh, he’ll just tell them the pins are just some stupid gifts for some friends of his. Friends that he didn’t have but it’s not like the artist would care either way.

Anyway, he’ll have to figure out how to commission someone first. That’ll be for another day though since it seemed to have gotten pretty late. He was done with attaching the black fabric on the shoulders of the coat so that means the actual coat part was done.

Satisfied with his progress, Tommy hung the coat back on the coat stand after putting the photograph back inside the pocket, and put away all of his sewing things. He got ready for bed and when Tommy shut his eyes to sleep, he prayed that he wouldn’t have another nightmare. 

Tommy knew that even if XD heard his internal prayer, he wouldn’t listen, in fact, XD would probably give him an even worse nightmare than before just to f### with him.

But it’s not like he could do anything about it so he just let sleep overtake him and hoped no nightmares would ruin his night.

Chapter Text

Despite Tommy’s worries when he went to bed, his sleep began dreamless- Is it technically dreamless if his dream was a dark void? It kind of reminded Tommy of his limbo, but, in a way… It was strangely comforting, which was a first because Tommy despised his time in the void when he died. Maybe he didn't mind it this time around because Tommy knew it was only temporary since he couldn’t die. He didn't feel the dread and emptiness that usually came with being in the void.

It was more of a temporary escape than anything, a nice contrast to the overwhelming nightmares he’d been having lately. A break.

However, at some point, Tommy felt a shift in the dream, like it was no longer just an empty void, like he was sucked into an actual dream. Now Tommy felt like he could move in the dream, like he had an actual body rather than being one with the void.

With his newfound awareness and tangibility, he looked around the void to see what had changed. He had a bad feeling, dread slowly creeping up his gut like a predator slowly advancing towards its prey. Nothing seemed as if it had changed but Tommy knew something clearly had.

Suddenly, Tommy heard an echoing laugh that seemed to come from all around him in the black void, a familiar laugh. All at once, the dread jammed itself in the back of his throat along with frustration bubbling up to join it.

The fucking bastard was back again.

That smug, stupid laugh was DreamXD’s. It had been months since Tommy was last visited by them and Tommy was enjoying the rare peace without the asshole haunting him in his dreams, but it seemed like the peace was over.

The laughing stopped and Tommy felt a presence behind him. He whipped around just in time to see XD manifest in the creepy ass way they do where it looked like their body was growing and expanding from nothing. When the god’s form fully manifested, Tommy was face to face with the porcelain white mask with XD painted on it in black and rotated to look like an actual face, much like Dream’s mask.

The god’s light green and gold robes draped down from a body Tommy knew was barely humanoid, just a pure white torso and floating hands with no arms or legs. Four wings as white as their mask idly shifted around and two large golden halos circled their floating head, crossing like an X over each other.

They did that thing where they just stood there, staring at Tommy eerily, like they were observing his every move and scrutinizing him. It reminded him of a predator watching their prey’s every move or a scientist dissecting a frog. It made Tommy feel exposed, and he hated how it reminded him so much of Dream.

Tommy, always quick to give into defensive anger when it comes to DreamXD, hissed out, “What were you laughing about, prick? Found a new way to torment me? Is that why you were gone so long, to think of something that would make my life even more of a living hell?”

XD barely reacted to Tommy’s anger, merely tilting their hovering head curiously. Then, they simply, borderline robotically, said, “That’s no way to greet someone who is about to give you a gift.”

Tommy felt his rage grow even more at those plainly-delivered words. “What the fuck do you mean a gift?! Are you messing with me right now?!” Tommy spat, already wanting to wake up to avoid dealing with DreamXD. But he couldn’t. He was trapped.

“I spent so long trying to get this gift prepared, and this is how you greet me? I thought even you had better manners than that, Theseus.” XD replied unhelpfully, not clearing any of Tommy’s confusion and adding to his frustration. Tommy flinched at the name XD always used for him— as if Techno using it to tell him to die like a hero wasn’t enough for the name Theseus to give Tommy a trauma response— but largely ignored it, balling up his fists instead.

“You better fucking tell me what you’re up to right now or I’ll-”

“Or you’ll what, Theseus? Kill me, a god?” DreamXD interrupted in that robotic but somehow condescending voice of theirs, head tilting to come off as even more condescending.

But XD did have a point. There was no use in threatening the god because they are, y’know, literally a god. What could Tommy even do to them?

DreamXD sighed in that disappointed, patronizing way they do, like a parent about to scold their child, and Tommy couldn’t help but be reminded of Dream again. Damn it, this was one of the main reasons why Tommy hated XD’s dream visits. They were like a constant reminder of Dream and Tommy’s trauma regarding the man.

“You know, Theseus, I should just not give you the gift due to your awful manners, but I didn’t go through all this effort for nothing, so you’re getting it anyway. Consider yourself lucky.” XD said, almost hissing the last bit but still managing to sound robotic.

Tommy wanted to scoff at that because why would someone like him ever consider himself lucky in a situation like this, faced with the god who cursed him and who looks and acts much like the root of most of his trauma.

The god laughed at this, not as loud as the one at the beginning of the visit, more of a chuckle this time, but still running a shiver down Tommy’s spine all the same. It sounded like danger. “Your gift will be waiting for you. Oh, this will be fun.” That was all they said before Tommy felt his feet begin to sink. He was waking up.

Tommy tried to run up to XD before he awakened, “XD, you bastard, what do you mean-” The lack of solid ground caused him to lose his balance and fall, the sight of DreamXD’s white mask staring at him eerily being the last thing he saw before jolting awake.

Tommy was breathing heavily and felt the discomforting way his clothes clung to his skin with sweat. He sat up as his breathing calmed and just stared at his hands and bandaged arms for a solid minute, before burying his face in his hands and letting out a frustrated groan.

He hated DreamXD and their tendency to always leave Tommy with no explanations, just ominous and vague words. What did they mean a gift? DreamXD didn’t do gifts and Tommy doubted their version of a “gift” would be anything good.

It was probably yet another thing XD found to add to their entertainment. That entertainment being Tommy’s misery.

Your gift will be waiting for you. That’s what DreamXD said before the prick sent him back to reality, followed by, Oh, this will be fun. Tommy would have to be careful today. He didn’t like what XD was planning.

-----

He shuffled out of bed and got ready to head out, this time skipping breakfast and going straight to the music store, the things DreamXD said still ringing in his head.
It was bothering him, but there was nothing he could really do about it besides stay alert and try to be mentally ready for whatever XD threw at him.

When Tommy arrived at the front of the shop, he realized he didn’t know the name of the store, so he looked up at the sign above the door that stated the name. It simply read “Beloved Music” with the “o” in the shape of a spinning record. Huh. What a basic name.

Despite the simplicity, for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the title meant more than that, meant more than what was blandly stated. Something about the “Beloved” part seemed strangely familiar like it didn’t just mean its dictionary definition. Like it's supposed to mean something important to Tommy. Maybe he’s just thinking about it too much.

Tommy entered the store once again, those same bells chiming, and looked up at the cashier, who was making their way to the register counter. That same feeling of strange familiarity came when his eyes fell upon their face again.

Had Tommy met them before the day he first entered the store? In the far past maybe? No, this person looked about the same age as Tommy before he got this curse of immortality; he couldn’t have known him that long ago and Tommy doubted they were immortal as well.

Tommy didn’t think he just saw them on the streets or something either. It felt as if they used to have some sort of connection, like they were close friends.

That would be impossible though since Tommy hadn’t befriended anyone in decades. Even if Tommy did, he would think he would recognize a close friend of his, especially if it was a fairly recent friendship.

“Oh! It’s you! You’re just in time, we just finished organizing all the new records,” They called out to Tommy from the counter, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“You can look over there. It’s organized mostly by the songwriter, but also kind of by genre. We haven’t exactly figured out how to organize them yet, so it’s kind of a mess. It should at least loosely be in order by genre then artist though.” They continued, gesturing with their hands to where the records were being kept.

“Okay, thanks,” Tommy stiffly nodded and headed toward where all the discs were. He didn’t remember who wrote the music for Cat and Mellohi or what genre of music it would be considered since genres didn’t really matter back then, so he just began randomly pulling out records until he miraculously found the right ones or something like that.

He assumed that the discs he was looking for would be close to each other since they probably had the same songwriter, so that would make things easier at the very least.

While he was going through the various discs, he distantly heard the bells of the store door jingle as a new customer entered but ignored it. He just focused on his search and tuned out everything else around him.

After a while of searching though, Tommy sighed. Was this a lost cause? Were the discs even going to be here?
“Looking for something?"

Tommy jumped at the voice, nearly falling backward from surprise. He was so surprised, in fact, that he initially didn’t notice how familiar the voice sounded.

“Fucking hell, don’t just sneak up on a man like that,” Tommy snapped, recovering from the sudden shock.

“Sorry,” The stranger winced apologetically, “It just seemed like you were having a hard time finding what you are looking for, so I was wondering if I could be of any help.” The stranger sounded a bit embarrassed, sheepish even.

“I doubt you’ll know the discs, they’re pretty old,” Tommy replied quietly, not turning to face the person and just focusing on pulling out random records.

“Trust me, I know music of all kinds, old or new. You could say I’m a bit of a music expert,” The stranger proclaimed proudly, that initial sheepish and apologetic tone fading away as they began to speak more confidently. Tommy could practically hear the prideful smile in their voice, “I might be able to help.”

It was then that Tommy noticed how familiar the voice sounded. He couldn’t pinpoint why though. So, Tommy turned to look at the person next to him, expecting to just see a stranger with a smile or neutral expression, or maybe a vaguely familiar but otherwise unimportant face. But instead, he was greeted by another sight that made his breath hitch.

Extremely familiar fluffy brown curls, wire-frame glasses, warm brown eyes, and a puffy yellow sweater.

Tommy was struck by the resemblance between this random person and Wilbur, his brother. It- it couldn’t be him. That was impossible! Right? Was this what DreamXD meant by their gift to Tommy? It couldn’t be! But- what else could explain this miraculous coincidence?

“Hello?” Maybe-Wilbur(?) called out with a confused expression, but Tommy barely registered it, he was too lost in his own thoughts.

Was Tommy hallucinating again as he used to so many times in the past, or was this really Wilbur standing in front of him?

No, it couldn't be Wilbur, he died ages ago! Then, who could this be? This person had the same appearance, same voice, same smile. And gods, did Tommy miss that smile.

But it wasn't the same one Wilbur used to give him. It was more like the smile of a stranger who was just simply being nice. Tommy never saw this smile of Wilbur’s directed towards him because they were always brothers, never strangers.

Stranger. The eyes of the man who looked like Wilbur held no recognition, no fondness that came with being brothers. Just general politeness. It felt like the whole world came crashing down on Tommy at that realization.

Here Tommy was, next to the person who resembled his brother- the person who he missed so much despite his past actions, the person he kept wishing would come back despite the conflicting feelings the thought of him caused- and yet…

This wasn’t his brother, no matter how similar they looked. This man didn’t remember Tommy, otherwise it would show. This man didn’t go through all that Tommy and Wilbur went through together, and this man will never remember or know of Tommy’s past.

“Um… Are you okay?” Wilbur -Tommy knew this wasn’t his Wilbur, but his mind couldn’t help but refer to him as such- asked softly, albeit awkwardly, with a concerned look, slowly reaching out a hand to touch Tommy’s shoulder to try and snap him out of it.

Tommy was brought back to reality before he could touch his shoulder though, flinching back a bit.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. You just-” look like my brother who died over a century ago, “uh- remind me of someone I used to know,” Tommy went with instead. It was clear this wasn’t the Wilbur he knew even if he looked so much like him.

“Well, I do just have that kind of face.” Wilbur lightly joked in an attempt to lift the mood since Tommy clearly looked uncomfortable. It did little to help lift the sinking feeling in his chest.

“Yeah…” Tommy muttered weakly. It was a miracle he could even speak without his words getting stuck in his throat. Honestly, he was barely keeping it together.

But he had to keep it together, he couldn’t just have a meltdown in a random store in front of a person who, although looked like Wilbur, didn’t know who Tommy was. This could be a trick by XD, maybe the prick decided to create a human that looked exactly like Wilbur did before L’manberg to mess with him, mock him.

Still though, Tommy was on the verge of tears and/or hugging the man who looked nearly identical to his brother.

But that was the thing. He looked nearly identical. Nearly.

Although Tommy didn’t want to keep looking at the face of someone so familiar but not, he did anyway to look for something, anything, that would give Tommy answers as to why this man resembled Wilbur so closely and so he could find some differences in the appearances to help separate the two in his mind. And he was surprisingly able to find some things.

First, this Wilbur lacked the white streak in his hair that his Wilbur had after being revived. When Tommy noticed this, he had to stop and think because he knew the white streak wasn’t something you could get rid of easily.

Tommy knew from experience; he had tried dying it, cutting it, everything he could think of, and it always came back no matter what. It was a permanent mark left behind by death. It wasn’t something that would just disappear.

So that was one thing that separated this Wilbur from Tommy’s past. It helped ground Tommy, just a bit.

The second was his lack of scars. Wilbur never had as many visible scars as Tommy except his death wounds, but he still had some small nicks here and there. You were bound to get a few when fighting a war.

Looking at this Wilbur’s face, he didn’t have any small scars. His eyes were also brighter than past Wilbur’s.

Tommy remembered when his Wilbur used to have eyes that bright. Back when he was the glorious leader of a hopeful nation and not a terrorist who destroyed his unfinished symphony because “if he couldn’t have it, no one could”.

That was back when they all had bright eyes full of passion for their nation with nothing to threaten its existence. Then, the need for a revolution, for independence, interrupted that peace and it just got worse and worse from there.

If only things could have gone down a different path. One that allowed L’manberg to proudly stand in all its glory for many more years than it did. One that allowed that spark in Wilbur's, Tommy's, and everyone else's eyes to remain.

There would have been no need to attempt to patch it up each time it got destroyed until people eventually gave up and left it as a crater in the ground because there wouldn’t be any holes to patch up in the first place.

People would accept its existence, Dream would accept its existence, and the nation would be left alone. Tommy knew that was extremely unrealistic, but he couldn't help but fantasize about that reality.

L’manberg would have had its independence and the members of the great nation would live a safe and happy life within its borders. No scars, no explosions, no more wars. No more children training to fight for their lives, ready to take lives if it came to that. No more fighting and killing just to survive to see another day. Always only surviving, never living.

But that would only happen in a perfect world. The Dream SMP was very much not a perfect world, very far from it in fact. It was messy, it was dangerous, it was hell.

He was getting distracted; what he needed to do was figure out what was going on! Why is there a person who looks nearly identical to Wilbur decades after he was supposed to die?

Tommy racked his brain for any possibilities and couldn’t come up with many, let alone anything reasonable. There was one that stood out to Tommy though… Reincarnation.

It sounded insane and Tommy had only heard about that kind of shit before in books and movies. He always thought that it was just fiction, he never thought it was real.

But, frankly, considering how Tommy was immortal, the idea of someone getting reincarnated wouldn’t be too illogical since he can literally live forever.

Maybe this was some kind of sick joke by XD. Either this was some kind of elaborate illusion created by XD -since Tommy’s hallucinations were never like this- or XD reincarnated Wilbur just to see Tommy have to work through this emotional turmoil. Sounds about right for XD. He’d have to ask them about it -or more like demand answers- when the fucker decided to appear in his dreams again. He despised the idea of having to talk to the god at all, especially so soon after the visit last night, but Tommy needed to know what the hell was going on.

For now, Tommy will just go with the idea of the Wilbur in front of him being a reincarnation of the Wilbur Tommy knew in the past. It would explain how Wilbur was even here, in front of Tommy, despite the fact that more than two centuries have passed since Tommy last saw Wilbur.

It would also explain why Wilbur didn’t have his memories of the SMP or of Tommy, and why some things were missing, like the white revival streak and scars, or different, like how Wilbur’s eyes were brighter.

Tommy was abruptly snapped out of his train of thought when a hand lightly tapped his shoulder and brought him back to reality. Luckily, Tommy was wearing a hoodie so the touch didn’t sting like physical contact always did after his revival. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re spacing out quite a bit.” Wilbur asked with eyes still full of worry.

Tommy missed when Wilbur paid attention to him enough to get concerned.
Tommy waved the hand that tapped his shoulder away and assured, “I’m fine. I… just get lost in my thoughts a lot, nothing to worry about.”

Wilbur seemed to accept the excuse but still looked worried. Honestly, Wilbur’s concern towards Tommy, a stranger in the man’s eyes, was strange, but Tommy brushed it off as nothing.

Wilbur seemed to move on and changed the topic, for which Tommy was beyond grateful. “But anyway, what were you looking for?”

Tommy accepted the topic change as if nothing had happened, despite the fact it felt as if his whole world had been flipped upside down. He shrugged, tension still present but not as obvious, and answered, “Just some old discs called Cat and Mellohi, ever heard of them?”

Wilbur seemed to think for a moment before nodding, “C418, right? Yeah, I think I’ve heard of them.”

Tommy perked up at that, eyes lighting up. Wilbur seemed to notice and smiled warmly. But not fondly. “They should be over here if they have the records,” Wilbur directed, walking over to another section of the store.

There was another record display stand with a sign above it that said “Electronic” in thick bold letters. In between every few records, labels stuck out that stated the songwriter. From what Tommy could see, it was organized alphabetically by the songwriter, like what the cashier said.

Wilbur began flipping through the labels at a very quick pace until he eventually found the label he was looking for. C418.

There were only a few records under the name, most likely because all of the music must be ancient since it came from the time before Tommy became immortal. And that was a very long time ago.

From what Tommy could see, none of the records were familiar. There were titles like “Subwoofer Lullaby”, “Aria Math”, or “Mice On Venus”, none of which Tommy recognized.

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows and hummed to himself before looking back at Tommy. “The records you’re looking for aren’t here,” Wilbur stated, turning back to the records and pulling one out from the C418 section to get a better look at the song name on the sleeve.

Tommy merely sighed at that, it was about what he expected anyway. Honestly, it was a miracle they had any discs by C418 at all considering how old they must be. “It’s fine. I had a feeling they wouldn’t be here anyway. They're basically ancient after all.” He rested his hand on the rim of the record stand and stared blankly at the small collection of C418 discs, none of which were the ones he was hoping would be there.

Why did he feel so disappointed? He expected it, he really did, so why did it feel like he’d been let down? He tried to push that disappointment away and looked up at Wilbur.

Wilbur’s face looked apologetic, as if he thought he had failed Tommy. Why would Wilbur feel like he had failed Tommy? Why would he even care; this Wilbur technically didn’t even know him at all!

As much as it pained Tommy to think, that was the truth. Wilbur had no memory of Tommy before today, so why did it seem like Wilbur cared so much about someone he barely knew, let alone over something as little as music discs?

Tommy knew it wasn’t Wilbur recognizing him because it would show. Despite it being more than two centuries since Tommy last saw Wilbur, he still knows all of Wilbur’s tells. He could read Wilbur like an open book, they were brothers after all.

Were. Past tense. Wilbur could no longer read Tommy as well as Tommy can read Wilbur anymore. His mind whispered, but Tommy was quick to shove that thought back.

This Wilbur had been wiped clean of his memories of his days in the Dream SMP, and in turn, of Tommy. He was a clean slate, not stained by the experiences and memories of the past or marked by the scars of a long finished conflict. You could call him lucky for that.

Tommy was a bit jealous, in a way. To be able to have eyes that bright, not dull or tired, or to be free of the scars that paint his skin and the occasional sting that came with it would be nice.

However, Tommy didn’t want to forget his past, it would be like erasing any proof of what Tommy went through like it was nothing. Irrelevant. He didn’t want his past to be reduced to nothing when it made such a big impact on him.

Reducing his past to nothing would be like reducing himself to nothing, and forgetting his entire past would be like forgetting himself. Despite how much Tommy hated this fact, he couldn’t deny how his past was deeply ingrained and intertwined with his identity, his very being.

Wilbur once again pulled Tommy from his mental spiral when he spoke, “These may not be the exact discs you're looking for, but these two records are still very good,” Wilbur pulled out two records and showed them to Tommy, “These ones are near-ancient in terms of records, but that's to be expected for this artist. To be honest, I don't know how this store managed to get their hands on records these old. These sometimes sell for quite a lot of money as they're quite rare.” Wilbur explained, clearly knowledgeable on this particular topic, which honestly didn't surprise Tommy. Seems like Wilbur is passionate for music in any life.

Tommy gently took the chosen discs from Wilbur's hands and looked at their song names. It's two of the ones Tommy noticed earlier, Subwoofer Lullaby and Mice On Venus. He looked at the records curiously. “Why do you recommend these ones specifically?”

“Ah, well, there's no specific reason, I just thought they'd suit you well,” Wilbur smiled, something in Tommy's chest warming at seeing it. It wasn't Wiibur's distant polite smile, it's more like the one he gets when you get him to talk about his interests, telltale in how his eyes lit up in that certain why they did when he's excited, and how he perks up a bit, standing a bit straighter.

Tommy looked up at Wilbur with a raised eyebrow. “But, you don't even know me.” He deadpanned, hoping he wasn't sounding rude. Again, it was the truth, this Wilbur knows nothing about him.

At this, Wilbur looked a bit sheepish, his smile a bit embarrassed, “Yes, I know, but I've always had a knack for knowing what kind music a person would like.”

Tommy carefully eased one of the discs out of its sleeve, setting the other one down on the record shelf. Wilbur said these types of discs were rare but Tommy saw nothing unusual about them. “You said these are rare, why? I don't see anything different about them.”

“Really? You don't notice how different they are?” Wilbur asked, giving Tommy a curious look, “These records stopped being mass produced decades ago.”

Tommy realized that he probably shouldn't have said that. Obviously modern records are going to be different from the old ones he had back then since they were literally some of the first. “Uh- no, I didn't notice, but that might be because I haven't really used record discs in a long time and when I used to, they were pretty old. Probably one of my grandparents’ old discs.” He half-lied.

“Ah, that explains it then. Yeah, 78 records, the ones you are holding now, have a few notable differences than modern records,” Wilbur began, walking next to Tommy to point at the specific differences without directly touching the disc, “Firstly, the material used to make them are different, not vinyl like the records made today. Second, the grooves are wider. Third, they require a certain revolution speed to play properly; 78 revolutions per minute to be exact, hence the name 78 record. They also need a wider stylus to compensate for the wider grooves.” Wilbur informed. Tommy absorbed the dump of information with ease, his old instinct of listening to Wilbur's rambles during late nights reawakening.

“Well, that's interesting,” Tommy hummed genuinely. He missed listening to Wilbur info-dump about his extensive knowledge of the most random things, even though Tommy didn't have much to contribute to this conversation. He had a feeling Wilbur didn't mind though; as long as someone was genuinely listening, Wilbur was happy.

Wilbur once again became sheepish, “Sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I? If you're getting bored you can just tell me to stop.” He said, taking a step back to give Tommy a bit more space now that he wasn't lost in an explanation.

Tommy simply shook his head. “No, I'm not bored at all. I meant it when I said it was interesting. I like learning new facts about stuff like this.” He replied with sincerity. He really did miss Wilbur's rambles, all those days lying or sitting around in Wilbur's room as the man shared random facts about all sorts of topics, ranging from the reasoning behind flower symbolism to the history of certain war tactics.

Wilbur looked a bit relieved at that, shoulders visibly relaxing. Then, he perked up as if he remembered something. “Speaking of older records being different, do you have a record player that allows you to play 78 records? Like, the special needle and specific revolution speed?”

Oh. Right. Tommy didn't really think about that, did he? He shrugged and answered, “I used to, but I had to ditch it since it was too big to bring with me whenever I moved. Besides, when I lost my old discs, I had no use for it anyway.” Tommy shrugged.

“Is that why you’re here? To replace the discs you lost?” Wilbur asked curiously and Tommy nodded.

“I lost them a while back, but I might as well start looking for replacements now. Don’t really know why I didn’t try to find replacements sooner, to be honest…” And actually- why didn’t he try to find replacements sooner?

Tommy gets why he didn’t do it immediately after he lost the discs originally since at that point of his life, he knew wouldn't be satisfied with only a copy of his discs. But now… Well, nothing was really stopping him, was there? Better late than never, Tommy supposed.

Wilbur seemed to consider Tommy’s response, something in his expression that Tommy couldn’t identify. That hint of that something in Wilbur’s expression disappeared in the blink of an eye though, and he said, “Well, whenever you do get a replacement, you’ll need one that can go 78 revolutions per minute, but luckily, that’s a pretty common feature in record players, if I’m not mistaken. You’ll also need the proper needle type for them because modern ones will damage 78s, but that shouldn’t be much of a problem either, especially considering you just need to replace the needle of a modern record player rather than buy a specific player designed for 78s.”

“What record player should I even get? Because if it was purely up to me, I’d probably end up just getting the first one at a reasonable price.” Tommy replied, having a feeling Wilbur would not approve of him choosing his record player at random.

Judging by the look on Wilbur’s face, Tommy was right. “No, no, no, you can’t just buy a random record player without looking into it,” Wilbur said, “If you end up buying a bad record player, not only will the sound be shit quality, but it can also scratch your records pretty bad, ruining them forever.”

Then, Wilbur’s eyes lit up to indicate he got an idea. “What if we go record player shopping together? That way, we can look for something specific to what you like that is also good quality without you getting scammed.” He suggested, a light lilt in his voice. However, Wilbur’s expression flickered and he backtracked, “Sorry- is that presumptuous of me? I know we’ve just met and everything but-”

Tommy let out a quiet amused huff and cut Wilbur off before he could spiral, “It’s fine, really. That sounds like a great idea! I doubt I’d be able to find a good record player on my own anyway, and if I’m being completely honest, I don’t really trust online shopping.” He trusted online stores one time and decided never again. Fucking scammers. Not that Tommy could really talk as a former scammer himself.

Wilbur visibly relaxed at Tommy’s reassurance and pulled out his phone from his pocket. “We should exchange numbers then, that way you can tell me whenever you're free to go looking.” He suggested, then paused, as if realizing something. “I just realized, we never exchanged names.” Wilbur let out a small chuckle at that.

Oh, right. This Wilbur didn't even know his name. Swallowing down the bitter taste in his mouth at the reminder, Tommy outstretched his hand for Wilbur to shake. It was a bit awkward but Tommy pushed through, “Name's Tommy Innit. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier, that was a bit rude.”

Wilbur playfully shook his hand with an amused smirk, “Wilbur Lethe. And I'm also partially at fault too, I guess I was so caught up with the records to realize we never introduced each other.”

Tommy quirked a curious eyebrow at Wilbur's last name. He knew it likely wasn't going to be Minecraft or Craft because he doubted Wilbur would be Phil's biological son in this life too- and the thought that Phil might also be on the mortal plane again was something to unpack later- but he at least expected it to be Soot. “Lethe? That's an interesting last name.”

“Yeah, it's certainly unique. If you want to know where either came from, you're out of luck because I have no fucking clue either.” Wilbur shrugged. Then, it clicked. Lethe, as in the river from Greek Mythology that was in the Underworld. Drinking its waters would cause souls to forget their past lives to prepare them for rebirth. XD, that fucking bastard, they must have suspected Tommy would recognize the name.

In the time Tommy made the realization, Wilbur pulled up his phone number and was now showing it to Tommy. “Here's my number. You can shoot me a text once you have my contact so I can save yours as well.”

Tommy typed out the number in his phone and sent a simple greeting text. Soon enough, Wilbur's phone buzzed and Tommy assumed he went ahead and saved Tommy's number.

Wilbur's eyes then widened as he noticed something on his phone. “Oh shit! I didn't realize what time it was!” He cursed, then looked back up at Tommy with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, but I have to go. Just send me a text for whenever you’re free,” He said and began rushing to the door, waving back at Tommy before he left the store. Tommy chuckled at the sight of Wilbur absolutely booking it as soon as he was outside the store.

Tommy's eyes lingered at where he last saw Wilbur, then looked down at the two records the man recommended and considered them for a moment. He picked them up and took them to the cashier counter.

“Find what you were looking for?” The strangely familiar cashier asked with a pleasant smile.

Tommy smiled back, not looking directly at the cashier, instead looking down to the two discs. “No, but I found something just as good.” Maybe even better, his mind thought as he replayed the conversation with Wilbur in his head.

“That's good then!” The cashier chirped happily, ringing up the records. From how Wilbur was speaking about the discs, Tommy thought they'd be more expensive, but it turns out they weren't very pricey. The cashier bagged the records and handed it to Tommy.

As Tommy took it, he asked, “Is it true this kind of record is rare?” He gestured towards the bag that contained the two discs.

“Oh, well, since they aren't mass produced anymore, they are pretty uncommon to come across, but we were lucky to get our hands on a few. They aren't particularly valuable ones, but even if they were, we likely wouldn't price them higher than normal records anyway.” The cashier explained, shrugging. “Anyway, enjoy your records! Hopefully you'll come by and visit again!”

Tommy turned to leave, waving back at the cashier. He would probably visit the shop again, so he'll see them again soon.

Tommy exhaled with a smile. He forgot how nice it was to have Wilbur around, well, anyone really. He replayed the events of the last hour on his way back to his apartment and felt content.

Of course, it wasn’t like everything was suddenly good again. If this is the “gift” XD was talking about, he still had to keep his guard up for any tricks the prick might play. He was still planning on demanding answers from DreamXD.

Not only that, but Tommy hadn’t forgotten that Wilbur didn’t remember him. Should he tell Wilbur about their past? Should Tommy tell him that Wilbur is a reincarnation of his friend, his brother? Should he tell Wilbur that Tommy himself is immortal?

He stared at the two newly acquired discs and the new contact in his phone titled “Wilbur” and smiled to himself at the feeling of a new beginning. He will save those questions for another day. All that mattered was that he got his brother back and he can see Wilbur again.

Because even without his memories, Wilbur was still his brother, reincarnated or not.