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Chapter Text

Tommy used to love thunderstorms. 

He was never afraid of them, unlike most kids. He’d sit at the window, curled up in a blanket, watching the pink and purple streaks spike and spread across the sky. Once the lightning reached its minimum, he’d run outside, splashing in the puddles. His laughter would drown out the rumbling cracks, melting the gray into something colorful.

His father sent his brothers to the porch to watch over him, the twins smiling fondly as Tommy ran around. Wilbur would light a cigarette, the smell strangely comforting, as Techno flipped the pages of his book. Familiar, safe. Tommy would drag Wilbur off the porch with whines, the older stomping out his cigarette before giving in, letting himself be pulled into the lawn. Techno wouldn’t budge, despite Tommy’s efforts. He’d lightly dismiss the boy, eyes never leaving his book. 

Tommy and Wilbur would splash together, completely drenching themselves. Techno would scoff, rolling his eyes at his twin’s childish behavior. His smile always betrayed him. Techno would always make his way inside, lightning pink hair disappearing briefly as he pulled towels from the linen closet. He’d place them on the bench before going back inside, the warmth drawing him in. 

Once exhaustion took over, Wilbur would gently lead Tommy back to the porch, helping him dry off. He’d wrap Tommy up, carrying him like a baby, even as he protested. Wilbur always let Tommy shower first, even though Wilbur was also soaked. He’d wait patiently for Tommy to be done, sitting as his shirt clung uncomfortably and his hair was curling away from his face. 

Techno would always light the fireplace, an eviction notice to the chill settled in their bones. He’d smile as his brothers joined him, curling into his side. Phil would make them all hot chocolate. They’d sit on the couch and watch a movie, waiting for the storm to pass. Tommy’s hair would dry oddly from squishing close to Techno, but he never minded. Techno would just brush it away from his face, laughing at him softly.

Tommy never mourned the storms. The color of the lightning stayed with him, woven in Techno’s hair. The gray sky waved at him through the smoke from Wilbur’s cigarettes, the smell coating his lungs like the humidity always did. The warmth and laughs and fond looks followed him, even as the storm clouds were taken over by the sun. 

But, now, Tommy hates thunderstorms. 

They only mocked him now, reminding him of the empty rooms beside his. Phil would sit by Tommy as he cried, longing clawing at the boy’s form. 

The lightning cracked his ribs open in a bloody mess. Sharp and unforgiving; a knife in a wound. The strikes dug through Tommy’s chest, bruising and damaging. He’d lie paralyzed, pangs shattering his heart. 

The thunder ridiculed him, laughing deeply at his pathetic show. The rumble mimicked another’s chest, pressed up against his small body. Its tone dug out his pain, exposing it to the rain to be watered, growing back stronger than before. 

The clouds were ashy, reminiscent of cigarette smoke. The humidity coated his lungs, taking Tommy back to when the smell of cigarettes warmed his heart. Now, the smell churns his stomach, ending in a vile way. 

Tommy never mourned the storms. The pink of the lighting burned onto his cheeks as he heaved into the toilet, cowardice. Bile coated his throat in a sick mockery of the gray skies and smoke. A lasting burn tore his esophagus, reminiscent of the fire. 

He felt stupid, shame locking his limbs. His dad would hug him, telling him it was okay. He’d let Tommy sleep in his bed, staying up as the ten year old cried. 

“Tech and Wil are coming back, right?” he’d ask, feeling like a broken record. 

With all the care in the world, Phil would reply, “Of course, Toms. They’ll come back for holidays and events. College won’t keep them away forever, I promise.” Tommy would sniffle, eyes heavy. His dad never complained. He just held him close as the storm moved on, bringing bright flora and sun. 

Phil never complained about the tears Tommy shed during the next few storms. He never complained as Tommy sobbed when he told the boy the twins couldn’t make it home for Christmas, or as Tommy yelled at him when he learned the twins wouldn’t be home for his birthday. He never complained when Tommy was but a shell, no longer the happy boy Phil raised. When the first storm of spring rolled around, Phil didn’t complain when Tommy shut the blinds, blasting music throughout the house. 

And when Tommy screamed at the ghosts of his brothers from his hospital bed, hysterical and violent, a threat to the newly made stitches that adorned his youngest’s wrists, Phil didn’t complain.

Business was slow at the café. 

Summer break was at its peak, the rush of young adults’ nostalgia and reunions often leaving them running around the shop. But, heavy clouds had plastered themselves over the city, bringing rain and thunder with. The energetic souls of summer hid away in their shadowed houses. The lack of life throughout the town left the cafe empty, though. Tommy watched out the window as the rain coated the city, painting everything in grays. A headache pressed against his skull.

Tommy stayed home as he attended college, remaining close with his dad and friends, and subsequently his job. He’d been working there for Niki for four years. It was his first job, an appealing offer when it had fallen in front of him. The shop was newly opened at the time, willing to hire Tommy, a socially awkward fourteen year old. Niki welcomed him with open arms, helping him as he stumbled his way to where he was now; a tired college student, dreading going back to school. 

Tommy pushed himself away from the counter, moving to the back where Niki was. She was looking at her phone with a smile, half finished muffin batter in front of her. 

“Want me to finish baking?” he asked, already moving to wash his hands. 

“Oh, sorry.” She blinked, smile never fading. Niki could light up a room without even trying. “If you’d like. The batter just needs to be baked.” He nodded wordlessly, lightly pushing her to the side. Niki let out a happy noise from next to him, eyes still trained on her phone. 

“What’s got you so happy?” he asked, smiling at her excitement. He grabbed a muffin tin, putting liners in. 

“I don’t mean to be so distracted, I swear,” she assured. 

“Niki, it’s okay. Plus, you own the place; you can do whatever you want.” 

She shook her head fondly. “I just learned that my best friend from high school is moving back to town.” 

“That’s awesome,” he validated, finding a smile on his own face. 

“God, it’s been, I don’t know, eight years?” she said, calculating. “That sounds right. I’ve gone to visit him and his brother before, but he’s coming back!” she exclaimed, hands flapping. 

Jealousy weaved its way into Tommy’s smile, morphing it into something fabricated. He took a deep breath, shaking his head to rid useless envy. “That’s really nice, Niki,” he said, setting a timer on the oven. “When is he coming back?”

“He said he’s only ten minutes from town,” she explained. Her eyes stayed glued to the phone, oblivious to Tommy’s frown. He collected the bowls, moving to the sink. 

“You can go and see him, if you’d like,” Tommy offered, “It’s slow.” 

“I could never ask you to do that, Tommy,” she said seriously, looking at him. 

“No, really. I’m offering. I really don’t mind. I can always call Eret if I have an issue, too.” 

“Are you sure?” she asked, child-like glee behind her eyes. 

“Positive.” He gave her a sweet smile. She rushed over, hugging him around the shoulders. 

“Oh, thank you, Tommy. You are so sweet. If you have any issues, call me.” He nodded, shooting her a thumbs up. 

Tommy let out a breath as she quickly collected her things, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The sky was still dark, the town empty and quiet. 

Rain soaked through Tommy’s sweatshirt as he walked home. 

Usually Niki would drive him home on rainy days, but Tommy didn’t want to disturb her. Droplets pooled on his face, dripping down his nose and chin as he looked at the concrete. The cold sunk deep in his bones, numbing his fingers. His shoes sunk in puddles, the rain seeping through the fabric, soaking his socks uncomfortably. 

The walk home wasn’t long, though it seemed to continue to drag on as the rain fell harder, pink flashing in the distance. His jeans rubbed against his skin roughly, red and irritated skin screaming as he continued. The rain ran into the drains, the loud drop echoing throughout the streets. His head throbbed as another flash of pink sparked through the sky, the ground shaking moments later. 

He struggled to open the door as he reached his house, palms slipping. He managed to open it, quickly piling inside. Coffee and tea clung to the air, soft, indiscernible conversation sliding through the hall. He fumbled with his shoelaces, clothes dripping onto the rug. He tried to keep quiet, expecting Phil to be on the phone, based on the other voice he could hear. Thunder shook the floor. 

His cold limbs moved stiffly, walking deeper into the house. Soft light illuminated the hallways from the dining room. He reached the doorway, leaning heavily as he shivered. Tommy looked up, being met with three people sitting at the table. Familiar brown and pink faced away from him.

His brothers’ figures sat in the chairs, haunting and painful. His lungs stuttered as his father looked up to him, apologetic and soft. The others turned around to look at him. Wilbur’s hair was longer than it was eight years ago, though equally as curly and unruly. Circular glasses rested on his nose, framing his face in an endearing way. Techno’s hair was still pink, rivaling the lightning that flashed outside. His arms were crossed, closed off. Tommy met Phil’s eyes as bile crawled up his throat.  

“I tried to call you,” Phil started, soft and caring. “You didn’t walk home, did you?” Tommy managed a weak shrug, mouth still gaping as his socks damaged the floors. Concern flickered over Phil’s face, empathetic. Lightning flashed over his brothers’ faces, adoration making him feel sick. 

“Toms,” Wilbur said, eyes sparkling. 

Tommy’s body moved on its own accord as he shot down the hallway, making it to the bathroom with barely enough time before throwing up. His sob was ugly as he coughed, throat burning with fire. He sputtered weakly as his wet hair dripped onto his neck. 

A hand was on his back as he heaved again, tears rolling down his cheeks as he shivered. He could barely hear his father’s coos over the rain. It was a sick, pathetic show, really. He gagged weakly, followed by a harsh sob. 

Tommy sat back, curling into himself with ashamed cries. His clothes stuck to his skin, cold. Phil stood from his crouch, filling up a cup with water and having Tommy drink it. A somber silence filled the room as Tommy cleared his throat. The lights flickered. 

The floor creaked outside the door. Tommy watched with tired eyes as the door opened slowly, revealing the twins, concern etched onto their faces. Tommy let his head fall back against the wall. 

“Are you okay?” Wilbur asked softly. “Is he sick?” Another pitiful gag forced its way out at his voice, Tommy’s body curling deeper with shame. Phil handed him another glass of water, running a hand through his hair softly. 

“I’m sorry,” Tommy admitted quietly, harsh and gravely. He ducked his head as his cheeks burned. “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, no,” Phil assured, taking the glass. “Don’t apologize. You’re okay.” Wilbur leaned his head against the doorframe, a familiar tic. Tommy’s heart hurt as he watched the action. The lights flickered again. 

“What’s wrong?” Wilbur asked hesitantly, afraid to break the silence. Techno stood awkwardly behind Wilbur. 

Tommy didn’t answer, only hugging his legs to his chest. Phil spoke up, stuttering as he covered, “He doesn’t like thunderstorms.” 

“ What? ” Wilbur’s voice was quiet and hurt. “What?” he whispered again, almost pleading. Tommy shook his head, once again feeling like a child. 

“Oh, god,” Techno gawked, something akin to realization and panic flooded his features. Phil sighed, running a hand down his face. 

“I don’t-” he started, voice breaking. “I don’t like thunderstorms.” Tears dared to fall, plunging him into a deeper sense of dread. 

Thunder shook the house. Tommy flinched roughly, a strained cry ringing through the air. Phil grabbed Tommy’s hand, helping him up. He pushed past the twins, guiding him to his room, where he left Tommy to change into dry clothes. Sobs shook his shoulders like the thunder, pathetically giving in to Zeus’ force. 

Phil came back moments later, gently wrapping the boy in a blanket. “I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered, hugging him as he cried. “I know.”

Wilbur made a pained sound from the doorway, sparking another set of painful sobs to crush Tommy alive as rain hit his window. 

Tommy woke up to an overcast sky, heavy and tiring. 

The sky was mourning the storm, casting sharp pains behind Tommy’s eyes. The door next to his opened and closed, causing his heart to fracture as memories of the night before flashed. They’re home, he thought, chest broken and warm, a sickening contradiction. A migraine blurred his vision. He dragged himself through the distortion, stumbling slightly down the stairs. 

The smell of tea made him nauseous as it drifted through the walls, a sign of life and lucidity through the house. The kitchen was empty, donuts and cold tea on the counter. Despite the acidity in his stomach, he forced himself to down a pastry, chasing it with the tea. He sighed as he pulled painkillers out of the cabinet, taking two in hopes of lessening the fire in his skull. 

“Good morning,” Phil greeted, cautious. “Headache?” 

He nodded, slow and lagged. “Are they really here?” he asked, child-like hope cutting through the slurred words. 

“Yeah,” Phil said, sighing as Tommy ducked his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” he asked helplessly, voice quiet and weak. Years of hollow pain and scars coming to a stop, overwhelming yet relieving. The thought of his brothers made him sick. 

“Techno got a new job here,” he explained, keeping quiet. 

“And Wilbur?” 

Phil hesitated, wincing. “He didn’t want to be alone, so he quit his job and followed him.” 

A dark laugh broke out of Tommy’s chest, bone chilling and upsetting. “That would be truly earth shattering, huh?” 

Phil frowned, eyes shifting with understanding. “Tom-” he tried to argue, fatherly instincts rushing through. 

“I know,” he cut off, tired. “It’s not the same, I know.” 

“That’s not-” he paused, sighing. “That is what I was going to say, actually,” he admitted, defeated. 

“Dad, I know it’s not the same.” His voice was quiet, reserved and broken. “I can’t seem to forget that.” He ducked his way out of the room, not keen on being pitied. He managed to leave the house without spotting his brothers, a blessing in the eye of the hurricane, he supposed. 

The air felt suffocating as he stepped outside, walking slowly down the sidewalk. The trees and flowers were heavy, drooping onto the concrete. The wind shook rain free from tree leaves, falling onto his head. He grumbled, putting his hood up, and keeping his eyes towards the town. 

Rain clung to the café windows, a soft reminder. He always thought the café looked welcoming, even in the aftermath of a storm. The warm lighting and fairy lights stuck out against the monochromatic sky. Tommy wiped the rain off the door handle before opening it. The café was warm, soft and quiet, save for the music playing throughout. The lobby was empty, fitting for the gray that still coated the town. 

“Tommy!” Niki greeted cheerfully, flour sticking to her sweater. Eret gave a small wave from their spot in the back. 

“Good morning,” he responded, smiling. “How was your friend?” 

Niki’s eyes lit up. Tommy tilted his head kindly, fond. “Really good,” she gushed, “Thank you again.” 

“No problem,” he said dismissively, waving his hand as he smiled. “Barely anyone stopped in, anyways.” 

“Good.” She sighed. The sun broke through the dreary clouds slowly, drawing rainbow designs across the floor. The entire town brightened, trees swaying happily as the wind dried their leaves graciously. Tommy let out a heavy breath as his shoulders relaxed. “I met them at the train station and we talked for a while until their dad came to pick them up. It was just really nice to see them both again.” Tommy nodded and smiled again. 

Business picked up with the sun, warmth curling around their bodies with familiarity. The rush was light, bright and uplifting as the remnants of the storm dried. Clouds drifted close to the sun, though never crossing paths. Pity, in a sense. Customers came and went, leaving gracious tips and smiles behind. 

Niki suddenly cheered as the lobby was close to empty, the sound equally as bright as the sun. Tommy smiled as he cleared a table, barely turning as he set the dishes down. The color drained from his face once he turned around, finding the source of Niki's excitement. Familiar brown and pink, safe and warm smiles, eight years of loneliness. He swallowed thickly. 

“Wil!” she called, smiling brightly. “And Techno,” she added, sarcastically dropping her voice. She ran around the counter, crashing into hugs and kind words. Eret came up front as her sweet voice drifted throughout, greeting the twins with equal amounts of enthusiasm. Niki’s eyes shifted back to Tommy, gleeful. “Tommy, these were the friends I talked about yesterday.” 

His back stiffened as their eyes drifted towards him, startling slightly. “Ah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Hi, Techno and Wilbur,” he greeted reluctantly, bitter. 

“Do you know them?” Niki asked, smile never fading. A sweet oblivion he didn’t want to break. 

“You could say that,” he deflected, watching as the clouds finally took a stance in front of the sun. Eret left the group to lock the door, turning the sign to ‘closed’. A chill seeped through the floorboards. 

Before Niki could rope him into a conversation, he pushed himself away from the group and started cleaning. The clouds continued to coat the town in a somber watercolor. He turned away sharply when he caught sight of matching eyes tracking him. 

Niki led them to a table, sitting and talking animatedly as Eret made them drinks. “Want something to drink?” they offered, smiling kindly. 

He shot one back, shrugging. “Sure, surprise me.” He shifted on his feet as he leaned over the counter. 

Eret shook their head fondly, “Go sit down, kid.” Tommy squawked, dramatically leaning back. “I’ll bring it to you.” 

“I’ll take mine to go, actually,” he said, running a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. 

Niki spoke up, cutting in, “Don’t be silly, Tommy,” she chided, pulling the chair out next to her, “Come sit.” 

He hesitated slightly, an anxious glance, before obliging and sinking down into the chair. Niki bumped their shoulders together, grinning. Tommy bit his lip and looked out the window as she continued talking. 

Her words drifted throughout the sky, milky and lost in the galaxy. Eret brought his coffee as they promised, brushing a hand over his shoulder. He thanked them quietly, letting the mug warm his numb fingers. Red hot pain spiked behind his ribs as Wilbur laughs and when Techno tucks his hair behind his ear absentmindedly. Tommy wonders what has changed about his brothers. 

“So,” Niki started, diverting the conversation. “Techno, where is your new job?” Tommy snapped his eyes to the man, curious despite it all. 

“At the college,” he said, shrugging. “Still teachin’ English.” 

“That’s lovely,” she praised. “Oh, Tommy, maybe one of your classes will be taught by him,” Niki suggested. His spine straightened at the thought. 

“Maybe,” he agreed jovially. 

Wilbur’s head tilted with curiosity. “What are you going to college for?” 

“Editing.” He took another sip of his coffee, fidgeting with the cup. Wilbur hummed, melodic and light. Tommy’s eye twitched, biting back a pathetic shudder. 

“You knew that,” Techno reminded softly. “Dad mentioned it back in September when he started college.” 

“Oh, right,” Wilbur agreed, nervous. “I forgot.” 

You’re good at that, Tommy thought helplessly. Niki turned to them, thinking. “Your family knows Tommy well, then?” Niki asked innocently, trying to understand the unspoken. 

Tommy blinked, stunned. Techno turned to Wilbur, eyes creased and confused. His chest burned as Wilbur stayed silent, shaking and stuttering.

“I’m their little brother,” he said, cold and flat. 

Niki startled, sitting back harshly. Eret looked similar, eyes wide, glancing between the three of them. “What?” Niki asked, breathless. Tommy sighed, disappointed. “You never told me you had a little brother,” She accused. 

The words hit him painfully, a slap into consciousness and reality. Techno’s shoulders tensed, turning towards Wilbur sharply. Afterall, they are Wilbur’s friends, not Techno’s. Overall, though, Tommy isn’t sure how she didn’t know. She’d driven Tommy home on many occasions, and he wasn’t sure how she wasn’t able to connect the dots. Wilbur sputtered as he tried to amend, “I must’ve at some point.” 

They lapsed into a weighted silence again. Tommy downed the rest of his coffee, hands clenching harshly. “No, you never did,” she concluded. He shook his head as he stood up, chair screeching loudly against the floor. 

“Tommy, wait,” Wilbur called. Tommy shook his head again, unlocking the door and leaving before he could get another word in. The wind was harsh against his cheeks, catching the tears that fell. The trees and flora shook with its force, a musical of white noise. His nose burned as they grew louder. 

Phil startled as Tommy threw open the door, the knob hitting the wall brutally. Drywall cracked and fell to the floor, leaving the wall dented. He winced, swearing under his breath. He shut the door, much softer than when he opened it, and kicked his shoes off.  

“Tom,” Phil started, Tommy responding with a nasty flinch. He tilted his head as he walked farther into the house. “What’s up?” 

A strangled sound left Tommy’s throat as he stuttered, overwhelmed and frustrated. His ribs and heart burned as he clenched his hands, cheeks flushing. The front door opened again, followed by frantic footsteps. “Tommy,” Wilbur gasped, held back by Techno taking his jacket off for him with a scowl. 

“Fuck off,” he spat, not sparing a look at him. Phil gripped his mug tighter, shoulders tensing. “Hi, Dad.” 

“Hi, Tom,” he greeted again, voice calm. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking between Wilbur and Tommy. He settled on Techno, who only shook his head with defeat. 

“I’m sure Wilbur would love to fucking tell you,” he said, strained. “If he can remember, that is.” 

“That’s not fair,” Wilbur leveled, “You didn’t tell her, either.” 

Tommy clenched his fists. “She’s not my best friend, Wilbur!” he yelled, “She’s my boss.” 

“What’s going on?” Phil tried again, ever the mediator. 

“Wilbur didn’t fucking tell his best friend he has a little brother,” Tommy said, voice suddenly quiet, “To be fair, I’m not sure how she never was able to put it together, but she didn’t know I was even close to being related to him. She asked, ‘Your family knows Tommy well?’” 

Phil’s mouth fell open, looking at Wilbur. “What?” he asked. Wilbur shrunk in on himself, staying quiet as he looked down. Tommy grew more restless. 

“Why the fuck did you even come back?” Tommy demanded. 

“I-” he started, weak. “Techno got a new job. I didn’t want to be alone.” 

Tommy laughed, dark and sick. “Oh, because not being able to see your brother would just kill you, wouldn’t it?” 

Tommy took a step forward, pressing on. The air darkened, deep clouds of hurt suffocating them. Rain against the window. “What do you think you’d do, Wil? I’m sure you can’t even imagine that. He might block your number and never live up to his promises to visit you. But, really, that’s not the end of the world.” A flash of pink. “What would you do when you’re lying in a hospital bed, hearing Phil say he can’t reach Techno to tell him that you just attempted suicide?” A world shattering tremor.

The words hit his brothers harshly, the storm having taken over and left. The force left them with matching looks of horror, twins through and through. “You wouldn’t know what to do,” he finished, shaking. He looked back at Techno, the man terrifyingly pale and frozen. “Because no one should ever have to learn what to do.” 

Tommy’s heart panged with a twisted sense of empathy and satisfaction as his brothers stared back. They curled into themselves, heads dropping. He could almost hear the snap of their ribs, a familiar pain he’d grown accustomed to. Tommy turned to Phil, seeing the way his chest stuttered. “I’m sorry,” he tried, guilty. Phil just shook his head, managing a sad smile.

His brothers were crying, broken and shattered like the drywall. Their tears pooled, destined to splash and soak their feet. 

“Despite it all, I’d never do that to you two,” he paused as tears ran down his nose and chin, mimicking the rain. “I love you both too much.” 

His frame shook violently as he took a deep breath, an unsettling silence falling over the family. Their tears dried through the quiet, soaking and staining. Wreckage and shattered realities lied on the floor. The pink glass was scattered around, cutting their feet as they walked. The broom stayed in its place as the family swayed with bated breaths.

Chapter Text

The calm after the storm was somber. 

Tommy watched as Phil shook himself from his shock. The man swallowed thickly, staring at the statues of his sons. “Sit,” he instructed calmly, patiently waiting for Tommy to hear him. His limbs were locked, hypothermic and dead. “Come on, bud,” Phil said lightly, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the chair. Tommy sat on the loveseat, unmoving and cold. 

Phil moved towards the twins, still soft, “You two, come on.” He grabbed Wilbur’s hands, helping him up. Letting go with one hand, he pulled Techno up, too. Tommy watched as he gently guided them to the couch. His brothers winced as they walked, sharp words having fallen to the ground, cutting their feet like glass. Phil’s back was straight as he left the room. 

The twins shook, bodies trembling fiercely. Tommy bit back a sympathetic flinch, squeezing his eyes shut instead. They sat in silence as they waited, barely breathing. Phil returned shortly, mugs of tea balanced in his hands. He set them down carefully before handing them off. Tommy let his fingers curl around the ceramic, warming his cold fingers. The clock ticked from its spot on the wall, counting down the time until they broke the uncomfortable ice. 

“I-” Wilbur forced out, raspy. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.” The words hung in the air, adding to the glass on the floor. “You don’t have to accept it right now- or ever, really- but I am sorry.” He ended breathless, the heavy words draining his breath with them. 

Tommy nodded, eyes trained on the mug he held. He lifted his gaze to wearily look at Techno. The man wilted, chest shuttering. Words had never been his brother’s forte, though he found it hard to have sympathy for him at this moment. Techno’s breath caught as he tried to speak, a pitiful noise escaping instead. He screwed his eyes shut as he managed a quiet, “I’m sorry, too.” 

“Thank you,” Tommy managed meekly, nodding. He sipped his tea, averting his eyes. The room stayed silent and cold. His brothers were shells, quiet and unmoving. “Um, don’t blame Dad for not telling you about the hospital.” Phil winced in his chair, shifting. “I, uh, was really upset after he couldn’t get a hold of either of you, and I told him not to bother letting you know, after all.” 

Wilbur shook his head, glancing at Phil with a heartbreaking expression. “I get it.” He looked back at Tommy. “I get all of it, really. I don’t blame you, or Dad, for anything.” 

Tommy nodded. “Okay.” Silence settled again. “I’m going to go to my room,” he declared, barely waiting for confirmation. Phil watched him go with anxious eyes. 

The house moved, the wreckage from outside being mended. Glass was swept up slowly, the house staying deathly silent for days. The silence broke as the sun decided to shine again, days shifting around him to something warmer and more lively. 

Despite it all, his body was paralyzed, hollow and gutted. 

His ribs were cracked open, lungs and heart exposed and raw. He didn’t know when he was awake, the days blending together in a blurry mess. Figures would enter his room, leaving water and food. Although they brought care, they lacked the sutures he needed. 

The sun stayed behind his curtains, taunting him as he stared, fingers twitching with the urge to feel its rays. His eyes moved from the window to the figure that stood in front of him, out of focus. 

A hand cupped his cheek, another ran through his hair. “Tommy,” the figure said, “Hey, buddy.” 

His words caught in his throat, a whimper ringing through the air, instead. His eyes shifted back to the window, fingers twitching again. A soft sound of recognition came from the figure before they moved away, stepping close to the blinds. Another whimper left his mouth. 

Light filtered in through the window, covering his room in yellow hues. Warmth wrapped around his limbs, heavy and healing. The figure returned to his side, pushing the hair off his forehead. Dad, he registered, eyes focusing enough to take in his blue eyes and blonde hair. 

“Hi, bud,” Phil said, smiling. 

“Hi,” he replied simply, arms and legs stretching. Vines grew over his chest, centering his ribs again. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Tommy blinked, shrugging. “Alive,” he settled on, lungs filling. 

Phil chuckled softly, thumb tracing over his cheek. “That’s better than nothing, I suppose.” 

He nodded, smiling lightly. It felt foreign. “Thank you for opening the curtains. I’ve been meaning to do that for a while now.” 

“No problem.” His skin stretched and fused over his bones and muscle, greenery winding over the scars. It was a temporary fix, destined to fall apart if not patched properly. Phil kissed his forehead. “Let’s get you up, yeah?” He let himself be helped up, body tingling as he stood. “I’ll make you some food while you shower.” Tommy nodded, obliging. 

He sighed as the water ran over him, rinsing and cleaning his decomposing body. He ate, smiling as Phil clung to his being. The ivies growing from his chest and wrists flourished, his face regaining color again, and his body felt solid. Tommy could feel the fear Phil still held. He watched Tommy with a careful eye, dark and viscous pain stuck to his under eyes. It was reminiscent of a past time, one Tommy was sure kept replaying in Phil’s mind. Guilt sat lowly in his chest. 

Phil called Tubbo and Ranboo, forcing the twins to leave the house for a while. Tommy sat in the living room as they asked questions, only to be brushed off. Wilbur caught his eye from where he stood, understanding flashing over him. He tugged Techno out the door before Phil could ask them again. 

Tubbo and Ranboo arrived shortly after the twins left. Phil stopped them, quiet words being said, barely audible to Tommy. As his friends found him, both of their faces displayed different extremes. Ranboo looked as though they had been crying, upset and sad for Tommy. Tubbo, however, was angry; flushed and shaking. Tommy smiled as his skin tingled, fingers twitching and automatically reaching for them. 

Ranboo’s frown deepened, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s shoulders. Green flooded his vision as he breathed in, lungs filling with seeds and life. Ranboo let go, stepping back. Tubbo continued to shake, red, hot energy pouring off his skin and into the air. Ranboo set a hand on his shoulder, grabbing his hand, a futile attempt at comforting and calming the anger beneath the boy’s surface. 

“Let’s go outside,” Tommy suggested, pulling at their hands. He tugged them to the backyard, shutting the door behind them. The grass was dry and bright, the leaves of the trees waving and greeting them happily. A ghost of a smile tugged at him as he laid in the grass, shutting his eyes and absorbing the sun. The two settled next to him, grabbing onto his hands. The sun hid shyly behind clouds, allowing Tommy to open his eyes and observe the angelic tie-dye. 

“The twins came home,” he started, exhaling. Dandelion seeds fell from the sky, crying and weeping for him. His friends only hummed, squeezing his hands. “And I yelled at them.” 

“Good,” Tubbo praised. Ranboo reached over Tommy, lightly hitting Tubbo’s ribs. “They deserved it.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed lightly, “They did.” He paused, grass poking at his neck. “They just sat there and let me, too. They didn’t fight back. They just took it.” 

“Did you expect them to fight back?” Ranboo asked him carefully. 

“No, I suppose not.” Alliums and daisies bloomed in the distance, light wind picking the lone seeds up again. “I think they’re scared of me now.” 

“They’re not scared of you,” Tubbo argued lightly, “They’re scared of themselves.” 

A breeze passed through, the trees shaking loudly. “What do you mean?” 

Tubbo sighed, fidgeting with Tommy’s hand. “You showed them who they have been, and what they’ve done. I’d be scared of myself if I learned I did that, too.” He paused, asking softly, “Did you tell them about the hospital?” Tommy nodded, biting his lip. “Good.” 

“I’m proud of you,” Ranboo praised, soft and genuine. Tommy shrugged. “What do you want to happen next?” 

“I want my brothers back,” he said, barely audible over the trees, “I want to be their little brother again.” They stayed silent for a moment, holding hands and breathing. 

“Will you let them be your brothers again?” Tubbo asked, looking at him. 

“Yeah,” he said, buds sprouting from their fingertips. “I’ll try.” Lilacs and hydrangeas grew over their hands, weaving and wrapping, bonding them together with a warm force. 

The sun cast a spotlight over the floor of the living room. Tommy moved towards it mindlessly, settling on his back as the sunlight washed over him, drying his shaggy hair. He exhaled as the rays of sunlight settled in his bones, rejuvenating and warm. 

“Hi, sunshine,” a voice said softly from the door. Flowers burst from his chest at the nickname. He opened his eyes slowly, shielding them from the sun as he met Wilbur’s own.

“Hi,” he responded quietly. 

“Is it okay if I lay here, too?” He nodded, moving his arms. Wilbur laid down gently, turning his head to look at Tommy. He sighed, closing his eyes as he smiled softly. “How are you feeling?”

Tommy took a deep breath, considering. “Alright,” he decided, “The sun is nice.” 

“Yeah,” Wilbur agreed, “It is.” A beat passed, quiet thinking. 

“Why do you call me sunshine?” 

Wilbur huffed out a laugh, smiling as he scanned over Tommy’s face. “You’ve always been a ball of energy; the light on my darkest days.” He paused, smiling wider. “Plus, you’re the youngest, so life has to revolve around you, just like the sun.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he shot back, grinning all the same, “That’s not true.” 

“ Sunshine,” he chided, pouting like a child, “You know it is.” 

“Whatever,” he dismissed, linking hands with Wilbur. His lips curled, a flash of sorrow. “I missed you.” 

Wilbur melted, adoration pouring out. “I missed you, too,” he admitted, frowning, “Everyday.” 

“Really?” 

“There wasn’t a day I didn’t think about you.” He squeezed his hand. “But, I knew you were strong.”

“Not really,” he argued, shrugging the best he could. “I mean I-” Red flashed over his vision, rain washing it away, seeping into the playground. He cut himself off, “Just, not really.” 

“You’re stronger than you know,” he assured, optimistic. “If I were in your position, I don’t think I’d be able to talk to me. I’d run.” 

“You’re good at that,” he noted, although not unkindly. 

Wilbur nodded. “I wanted to come back so many times.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Have you listened to any of my music?” 

Tommy’s eyes sparkled. “Of course; all of it.” 

Wilbur chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “Take a look at ‘It’s All Futile!’, then.” He paused, letting Tommy think through the lyrics. “College was just really bad. It put me in a horrible place, and I knew I couldn’t come home like that. It’s not fair. I’d rather you forget about me than have your recent memories be filled with horrible things.” Wilbur brushed the hair off Tommy’s forehead, sighing. “I knew I’d never be able to go back if I came home, too.” 

Tommy nodded. He bit his lip, looking away. “You were gone eight years, though.” 

Wilbur sighed. “Techno got a job out of college right away. He was all I had at the time, and the only person who could deal with me.” Tommy’s frown deepened, causing Wilbur to mirror it. “It doesn’t excuse us just dropping off the face of the earth, though. Don’t feel guilty. We were stupid, and you have every right to be mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” he clarified. “I just- I don’t know. I- I wasn’t even mad at first. Poor Dad had to deal with me crying over everything. It was constant; I don’t know how I didn’t shrivel up and dehydrate.” Wilbur chuckled, a smile fighting his frown. “I was really mad later, though. I knew you guys still talked to Dad, but the one time he called to say I was in the hospital, you didn’t pick up.” 

“Oh, Tommy,” he sighed, remorseful, “When did that happen?”

“A few months after I turned fourteen.” Tommy watched as Wilbur looked away, eyes defocusing as he thought. Guilt flashed over his eyes after a moment. 

“After we graduated,” he concluded, barely above a whisper. Tommy nodded. 

“I think I’m still upset about that,” he paused, thinking, “Yeah, I still am.” 

“That’s okay. You’re allowed to be,” he validated. 

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes again. 

“I love you too, Tommy.”

They laid in the sun until it set, shadows and chill pushing them away from the window. Phil shot them a smile as Tommy tugged Wilbur to his room, set on showing off his Minecraft world. 

Techno had always mended in impractical ways. 

He’d read, he’d write, and he’d drive. He could fix things without a word about it, just a gentle distraction with hidden meaning. Tommy always laughed when Phil called him out, his brother blushing and stuttering around a deflection. Without a connection, he could come off as cold and inattentive with his indirect patch, but Tommy admired how Techno didn’t need blunt words to heal something broken. 

“Theseus,” Techno called from the doorway, catching Tommy’s attention. He hummed, pausing the TV and shifting his eyes. Techno extended his hand, where a well-loved book was clutched. “Here.” 

Tommy took it wordlessly, brushing his hands over the spine. It was a blank journal, barely closing flat with the amount of pages added and torn.

“What is it?” he asked, opening the cover slowly. There was a page from a book haphazardly glued, along with a scribbled explanation on the page next to it. There were colors and lines adorning each page as he flipped through. 

“A journal,” Techno said simply, “I read and wrote a lot over the years.” 

Tommy smiled kindly, raising an eyebrow. Techno shifted, hesitating. Tommy flipped to the first page. Ode on Melancholy by John Keats was printed and glued, jagged edges and red pen. There was a date at the top, eight years of age being trapped on the page. The second stanza was circled with an arrow pointing to the page next to it. 

“How do you mourn someone who isn’t dead? Rhetorical at best, moronic at worst. But, really, is the person still alive? His body and soul and personality grows, stripped of us, so is he really there? Am I kidding myself?”

His eyes left the page to look at Techno again. The corners of his mouth were pulled, taught, uncomfortable, and nervous. “Thank you for this,” he said, “Really.” 

Techno nodded stiffly, moving to sit near Tommy. Tommy flipped the page. Sonnet by Neil Gaiman stared back, a title he hadn’t read in years. He underlined the last four lines of the last stanza, directing his vision to the other page. 

“Dad says he cries at the sound of thunder. Visceral and vile reactions. Trees have bent and broken where I was, leaving the boy alone, all my ‘I love you’s circling the drain. It’s shattered and broken.”

Tears welled in his eyes. The next pages were words similar to Wilbur’s songs, a sharp and unforgiving strike. He wiped his eyes. The writing wasn’t printed, but handwritten on a separate sheet of paper, the ink smudged. 

“Now it’s red, now it’s dead; now it’s everything he needs.” 

“‘Cause this is the part where I shut up and let you infest my brain. Wrap your arms around my cortex, dig you in, and let you drain.” A break, a frustrated scribble, a side note, “He won’t leave my brain. I can’t get rid of him. It’s like a fucking disease.”

“All I want to do is turn back time- at least a couple Tuesdays- to before I found my life turn two.” 

“Does he still think of me? Saying my name in his sleep?”

“Phil is mad. He’s cutting at me, unspoken words leaving me to assume. It’d be daft of me to cry. I left his heart on standby, and I can’t really blame him. Why can’t he be a dick? Why must he be so nice? It’s hard for me to move on when I don’t really hate you.”

Tommy looked just beyond the page, shutting his eyes and breathing. “Wilbur stole those,” Techno said, quiet. “Most of his songs are about you, but he shifted the focus a bit.” He nodded, continuing. 

He read with burning eyes and a shuddering chest. Tears fell, his throat closed. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, fascination, bloody and mangled. When he reached the end, reluctantly closing the book, his heart burst as he met Techno’s eyes. He smiled despite himself, unceremoniously wrapping his arms around his shoulders, sobbing into his chest. Techno’s own stuttered, holding Tommy close. 

Tommy’s cries tapered off, pulling back to look at him. Techno’s eyes were watery and sad. “Don’t cry,” he said unhelpfully, wiping at his own eyes. Technos lips quivered slightly, shaking his head fondly. Techno brushed the hair off his forehead, watching as Tommy’s eyes fluttered. The boy settled again, laying his head on Techno’s chest. Techno continued to run his fingers through Tommy’s hair and over his back, sighing as Tommy’s breath evened into something calm and rhythmic. 

Tommy heard a coo from deeper in the room, barely cutting through the light sleep he fell into. “Is he asleep?” Phil asked softly. There was movement, but no words. “He looks so young.” 

“He is so young.” Hibiscus and rose fell over his cheeks, a childish whine breaking from his throat. “Sorry, Theseus.” Tommy knew it wasn’t just for jostling him. 

August was on its last legs, the leaves barely hanging onto their green. Petals fell and scattered across the lawn, deep and mournful of the summer months. Storms stayed back and away from the house, sun bright and high. Wind ripped through the air with a newfound ferocity, though it stayed out of the house. The chill stayed locked out, seals and windows limiting. 

His ribs ached, although the occurrence is rare. The painful patching of his chest is still sensitive. His nails scratched idly down his arms, catching the scars harshly. He hissed at the weird sensation, skin crawling at the memories. His fingers traced the outlines, regardless. 

The twins looked over from their spot on the floor, matching brown eyes acting as a catalyst for his heart to pang. Tommy’s lips curled, looking away. He sunk deeper into the couch, looking out the window. His lungs struggled to fill. 

The sun hid behind the clouds, cowardice. Wordlessly, Wilbur strided towards him, settling next to him. Techno followed suit, sitting on his other side. Tommy bowed his head, darkness creeping over his shoulders. Wilbur held his hand softly, leaning his head onto Tommy’s shoulder. Much more hesitant and awkward compared to his twin, Techno held his hand and linked their ankles. 

“Bad day?” Wilbur asked quietly, keeping his head on his shoulder. 

Tommy nodded, biting his lip. “How could you tell?” He tried for sarcasm, though it fell flat. 

“It’s cloudy,” he offered simply, “And your hands won’t leave your scars.” Tommy let out a breath, unable to talk around the lump in his throat. “Is your heart aching?” Tommy nodded again. Wilbur shot him a sympathetic smile, placing his hand over their already linked fingers. “Do you want Phil to ask Tubbo and Ranboo to come over?” 

Tommy shrugged his shoulders, careful not to hit Wilbur. “I don’t want to bother them.” 

Barely letting Tommy finish, Techno pulled his phone out, texting Phil one-handed. He set his phone down, reaching behind them to get a blanket. He laid it over Tommy, his body relaxing slightly. Tommy leaned his head onto Wilbur’s, shutting his eyes. Time passed in a painful crawl, digging at his ribs and arms. 

Tubbo and Ranboo let themselves in quietly, finding them in the living room. Ranboo tilted his head, their eyes softening. Tubbo was more aloof, closed off and upset. Wilbur kissed the side of his head and let go. He gave Ranboo a hug on his way out, swaying before nodding and detaching himself. Techno gave Tommy’s hand a final squeeze before getting up. Ranboo stopped Techno as well, his brother giving in and hugging him. Tubbo had already settled at Tommy’s side, wrapping his arms around his middle. Ranboo grabbed the remote before leaning close to Tommy. 

“Let’s watch Up, yeah?” 

The dark days lessened, only slightly. He still had days where monochromatic faces phased in and out of existence, erased and detached. 

He tore his curtains down, giving the sun full access to warm his room. Vines grew in their place, staying green and alive. His family watered the vines daily, their soft smiles and kind words coaxing the leaves to flourish. Even as the seasons changed and college started up again, they continued to grow. 

The shorter days brought on full force dread and hurt, paralyzing and debilitating. Despite his immobile and pathetic state, his family stuck by his side. Wilbur would cross his legs over his, playing guitar and singing, even as he fell asleep. Techno read to him, dusting off his old books and handing them over to Tommy once they were done. Phil sat by him, talking about his day, talking about the new person he met, Kristin. Tommy would smile as his father gushed about her, giggling as he flushed. 

The ice around his stunted heart melted slowly with the snow. He grew with the flora, coming back to himself. And when the first storm of spring came around, he stood in the downpour, letting it soak through his hair and clothes. He looked up as pink flashed and split across the sky, a deafening crash following up. He smiled as the front door opened, Phil watching him with wide eyes. He giggled, staring back at the sky as the puddles flooded his shoes. Techno pushed past Phil, placing two towels on the porch swing, sitting beside them. Phil blinked as Wilbur came beside him. He smiled, taking Wilbur’s glasses off and holding his phone. 

Wilbur sprinted towards Tommy, crashing into him recklessly. He picked Tommy up, swinging him around like a kid. Phil chuckled, sitting next to Techno. The sun broke between the clouds, casting rainbow streaks across the sky. 

Tommy’s laughter drowned out the thunder that followed the next strike.