Work Text:
Wilbur had a gig. It was his band’s first gig ever, and it was the talk of the Craft’s household. He’d invited all his college friends, and everyone was excited for it, especially Tommy. Except, there was one issue, one that only the young blonde knew of.
The gig was at a pub.
Now, Tommy’s problem wasn’t one he liked talking about. His memories that linked to alcohol were all bad, ones that he always tried to bury as deep as possible. He’d had past foster parents who had suffered alcoholism, and even more instances where he was forced into drinking whether by the parents or their older kids, and their friends.
No one could blame him for associating alcohol with terrible things, yet he still blamed himself. No matter how much he wanted to tell Wilbur, and the others about his problem, he refused to let himself ruin such a special event.
So, when Wilbur would bring up the gig, and all the songs, Tommy would smile and listen. He’d listen to the older ramble about the songs and how their set up was going to be. How hard he and his bandmates worked to get the owner to let them play, and how much time they spent practicing. Tommy would swallow his words and keep quiet.
He had the entire week to think things through, to try and see if he could find a way out. It was on a Friday, so he couldn’t make up an excuse about an important last-minute quiz, or project that would prevent him from going. There really wasn’t anything he could say that would be believable.
He thought that maybe Tubbo and Ranboo being there might help him avoid bad situations, but as they were walking home from school on Thursday, Tubbo informed him that they wouldn’t be able to make it.
“I wish I could go to Wil’s gig, but no, instead I have to endure a four-hour long drive for a stupid trip.”
“But you like dad’s annual surprise trips,” Ranboo reminded him.
“Yeah, but we have the rest of the year for that. Wilbur’s first gig, however, is a one-time thing,” Tubbo argued.
“He’ll have more gigs and you’ll go to those,” Tommy attempted to make his friend feel better. “Then when he gets really big, he’ll start going on tours and you can come along.”
“He’d better take us along, or I’ll fight him.” Tubbo grumbled, though the spark in his eyes betrayed him. “Hey, do you think I could fake being sick? Then I could rope you into staying to take care of me, and we could both go to the gig, and have fun.”
“No one’s faking sick,” Ranboo voiced his disapproval immediately.
“You’re no fun.”
Tommy wasn’t paying attention for the rest of the conversation, his mind too preoccupied with the idea of a possible excuse that might just work as a solution to his dilemma. He thought out the details as the day went by, wondering if it would actually work.
It was when he laid in bed when Tommy finally made up his mind. He fell asleep that night knowing that his solution to his problem would get him out of being a disappointment.
When he woke up, Tommy realised he might not have to fake being sick. His stomach had somehow twisted itself into tight knots, and he had no appetite at breakfast. Phil gave him a few side glances but didn’t ask any questions.
He was jittery all throughout class, which was normal for him, but he felt like it was worse than usual when Ranboo kept glancing over at him, concern clear in his eyes. Tubbo didn’t start worrying about it until Ranboo brought it up at lunch.
“Tommy, you look a little pale. Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m alright.”
“He’s right, mate, you’ve been acting off all day,” Tubbo confirmed, unsatisfied with the vague answer.
“I woke up with a headache,” Tommy replied, pushing away his lunch. His appetite hadn’t grown since that morning, unlike his nerves.
Ranboo raised a brow at his action. “That all?”
“I guess I haven’t had much of an appetite, either. I might be coming down with something.”
“The flu is going around. Three kids in my biology class have caught it this week.”
“If you’re sick,” Tubbo started, eyes wide, “How are you going to go to Wilbur’s gig tonight?”
“Oh, I forgot all about that.”
Liar.
“Hey, you might feel up to it. You’re doing okay right now,” Ranboo pointed out.
“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. “Hopefully.”
Ranboo pushed the blonde’s lunch back towards him, and Tubbo started unpacking it, trying to see what would be the easiest thing to convince their friend to eat. After a lot of negotiating, Tommy ate half a sandwich and a banana.
His low energy from the constant waves of anxiety coming and going at random times, and barely eating anything all day, was mostly clear on the walk home. He was constantly leaning on Ranboo for support, to the point where the taller boy threw an arm around the blonde and half-carried him the rest of the way.
Tubbo’s concern grew the closer they got to Tommy’s house. He knew the house would be empty for at least another hour or two until Technoblade and Phil came home, and a shared look with Ranboo told him that the other was concerned over the same thing.
“Is anyone going to be home, by any chance?” Tubbo asked, trying to hide the worry in his voice.
“Yeah, Phil said he was going to take work off early today, so he should be home.”
Both boys couldn’t hide the relief Tommy’s answer brought them, yet they refused to leave him until they were sure he was safely at home, and not alone.
The door was left unlocked, meaning that there surely was someone else present. Tubbo called out a ‘hello’, which brought Phil out of his office just as Ranboo was lowering Tommy onto the couch.
“Is everything okay?” The man asked, making his way to the pair in the living room.
“Yeah, Tom’s just feeling a bit sick,” Ranboo replied.
“We wanted to make sure he wasn’t alone, and that he made it inside without collapsing,” Tubbo added, his voice free from any sarcastic or joking tones.
“I’m not going to collapse, you two are exaggerating.” Tommy rolled his eyes.
“Are we though?” Tubbo raised a brow.
“Shouldn’t you be packing?” Tommy snapped back.
“Thanks, boys, I appreciate it,” Phil interrupted, cutting their bickering short.
“No worries,” Ranboo smiled. “We’ll be on our way now.”
“Send us videos from the gig if you make it,” Tubbo added while being dragged by Ranboo.
The door closed behind his two friends, but Tubbo’s loud voice could still be heard from outside. Tommy shook his head, and slumped back against the couch, feeling the tiredness in his bones.
“You’re looking a bit pale, have you eaten anything?”
“I had half a sandwich at lunch.”
“Do you want something to eat right now? I could make you some soup.”
“That sounds good.”
Tommy got up, a new sense of dizziness filling his head, and followed Phil into the kitchen. The nerves were still there but they had calmed down enough for his appetite to return. It wasn’t until he sat with the feeling of a full stomach that he regretted finishing the bowl.
“You finished it,” Phil grinned, ruffling Tommy’s hair. “Want to help me make a cake for Wilbur?”
Thinking it would help distract him from the itching feeling at the back of his throat, Tommy jumped at the opportunity. After a while, though, he started feeling lightheaded, so he opted into sitting on top of the counter and just keeping him company.
“I thought Tubbo twisted his ankle in the cross country.”
“No, it was in a trampoline class. He landed on his foot wrong even though-” Tommy stopped mid-sentence, feeling an overwhelming sense of nausea.
He jumped off the counter and rushed towards the first bin he saw. The moment he leaned over, everything in his stomach came up. Phil hovered behind the blonde, careful not to get too close in case it made things worse.
“Can I touch you?” he asked in the brief minute where it seemed that Tommy’s stomach had settled down.
Tommy managed a nod before he was throwing up the rest of his lunch. The weight of Phil’s steady hand on his shoulder grounded him, and it wasn’t long until he finally fell to the ground falling back into his dad’s chest.
“You’re alright, I got you,” Phil murmured, brushing the golden curls out of his eyes. “Let’s get you washed up so you can go lie down.”
Tommy hummed a response, too comfortable in the warm arms that were holding him to pay attention. With the help of Phil, he managed to wash out the taste of vomit from his mouth before heading towards the living room.
He sank into the armchair and let Phil fuss over him, only leaving to finish baking the cake after being sure that Tommy was comfortable and promised to call out for him if he needed anything.
Technoblade and Wilbur walked through the door about an hour later. Or, Technoblade walked, while Wilbur ran in and up the stairs, sparing a second to yell out a response to his dad’s greeting. Tommy could hear Phil’s quiet laugh hidden in his voice as he asked Technoblade about his day.
“Pretty good. I got a 94 on the quiz I was stressing about.”
“That’s great, I knew you could do it.”
“You should save the dad-praise today for the golden star,” Technoblade teased.
“I’m sure Wilbur wouldn’t mind sharing. How’s he holding up?”
“Would telling you how we almost crashed twice be an answer?”
“It’s a big night, and having you there for set up will help him tremendously.”
“I know. That’s why I’m driving, or we probably won’t make it there in one piece,” Technoblade said. Then a realisation that had been looming over him set in. “Where’s Tommy?”
Phil nodded towards the armchair, and Technoblade saw a pile of blankets with a head of blonde hair popping out. He walked over, moving the blankets just enough to reveal what he thought was a sleeping Tommy, until the boy cracked an eye open.
“Tech?”
“Hey, buddy, you feeling alright?”
Tommy shook his head and curled up into himself more, closing his eyes. Technoblade turned to his dad with a questioning look.
“It’s not a fever, but he hasn’t been able to keep much down. I’m guessing it’s a stomach bug.”
Technoblade nodded and left the second question he had on his mind unasked. “I’m going to go get ready, we’ll be leaving soon.”
Tommy heard his brother leave and felt a twinge in his stomach. It wasn’t the anxiety and nerves that had been with him all day, this was something else. He just didn’t know what.
He closed his eyes tighter, willing himself to fall asleep and escape all the confusing feelings twisting his insides. His answer was called, but not long after, he was woken up by hushed voices talking right above his head.
“Sorry, mate, I can’t let him go like this.”
Tommy cracked an eye open enough to see Phil’s apologetic look, but it was when he looked at Wilbur that he felt the twisting in his stomach return stronger than before. The brunette was smiling, but his eyes betrayed him.
“It’s alright, you’ll both come to my next one.”
Tommy laid there, hearing, watching the interaction, as the guilt racked up. Even though he tried so hard not to, he’d still managed to ruin his brother’s first gig. And for what? Just because he didn’t want to deal with a few unwanted thoughts, or be in an environment that makes him feel slightly uncomfortable?
“Wil, come on. You don’t want to be late!” Techno yelled from outside.
“Coming!” Wilbur yelled back. “I’ll get Techno to film it and we’ll watch it back tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” Phil nodded.
“Feel better, sunshine,” Wilbur murmured, leaning over to press a light kiss into Tommy’s hair before running out the door.
“Have fun and be safe,” Phil called after him.
“Will do.”
Tommy heard the door close behind Wilbur as he made his way to the car. The guilt swallowed him whole, and it took all his strength to compose himself and not break right then and there. Pulling the blanket tighter around him, he closed his eyes as his thoughts raced.
He tried to forget the sad look in Wilbur’s eyes that he’d caused; that he was the reason Phil was missing out on his son’s first gig.
After a while, it became too much for him to bear. His thoughts were tearing him apart inside, on whether what he’d done was a reasonable response or an overreaction. Unable to hold the weight of his decisions anymore, Tommy left his place on the couch and headed into the kitchen. He slid into one of the chairs at the table and watched Phil make his tea.
“Something wrong, mate?” Phil broke the silence, casting a glance Tommy’s way.
“I-I have something to tell you.” Tommy’s voice wavered. “It’s about Wil’s gig.”
“Yeah?” Phil took a seat opposite the younger boy.
“I-I’m not sick, I’m not feeling too well, but it’s mostly because I didn’t-” Tommy took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to go to Wilbur’s gig.” He blurted out the words, expecting Phil to be mad. Afterall, he was missing out on an important event.
But, Phil’s voice couldn’t have been calmer. “I don’t understand.”
Tommy’s eyes met Phil’s. They were soft, filled with a look of genuine confusion. “I’ve been worried all week, and I think my nerves turned into physical symptoms.”
“Do you want to tell me why you were nervous?”
“The gig, it’s at a pub, and I-I-”
“Don’t like alcohol,” Phil filled in the words the boy couldn’t force out, making a huge realisation.
Tommy nodded, there were tears welling up in his eyes, and it made him feel stupid. He had no reason to cry, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. “I’m sorry. It’s selfish, I know.”
“What? No, not at all,” Phil quickly shot down his thoughts. “It’s an extremely valid excuse. There’s no reason for you to feel bad.”
“I ruined everything,” Tommy said, his hand wiping the tears as fast as they came. “You didn’t go because of me, and I know that hurt Wil.”
“Oh, Tommy.” Phil was out of his seat and next to the blonde in seconds, pulling him into a tight embrace.
“I’m sorry.”
“My boy, don’t apologise, you did nothing wrong.”
“Then why do I feel like- like-'' Tommy struggled, unable to articulate all the guilt and dread that was eating at him.
“Because you always put other people before yourself. You saw Wilbur upset and regretted everything, disregarding the real reason behind your actions; you were just protecting yourself.”
Phil’s words made sense. They reminded him of why he’d made the decision in the first place, but that didn’t do much to ease the guilt burning inside his chest.
“I still hurt Wil,” he whispered.
“He’s been texting me since they’ve left, and he’s doing great. Sure, we aren’t there, but he understands why.”
Tommy pulled back, wiping the tears off his face with the sleeve of his sweater. “Can we go? So I can make it up to him?”
“You don’t have to make it up to him, Tommy. He’s not mad, and even if he was, you’ve done nothing wrong. We can go, but only if you feel up to it.”
Tommy went silent for a moment, “I want to go.”
With Tommy’s mind made up, Phil agreed, and they both got up to get ready. The pub wasn’t that far, so they decided to walk, both to get some fresh air, and to give Tommy more time to prepare himself mentally.
“Alright, I’ll be next to you the entire time, and we’ll leave whenever you decide. Got it?” Phil reminded him as they arrived.
“Yeah,” Tommy answered.
Together, the pair walked in, and immediately they were taken aback. There were a lot of people of all ages, going from upper high school kids to older men in their thirties. A group of college students were jumping around singing the songs, making it feel like more of a concert than a small gig.
Tommy’s hand reached for Phil’s, allowing him to guide them through the huge crowd. They didn’t stop until they were standing by Technoblade near the side of the stage, where it was a bit more spacious.
“You made it,” the note of surprise was clear in Technoblade’s voice.
“We talked things over, and he decided he was feeling better.”
Techno’s eyes shifted to the blonde, who was looking around nervously. He could tell from his stance that the younger was incredibly uncomfortable, until suddenly he wasn’t. Tommy closed his eyes, focusing solely on listening, pretending that he was somewhere else entirely.
Soon enough, he felt his shoulders relax, and his overthinking mind calmed down slightly. He started tapping his foot to the beat, and when he opened his eyes again, he was singing along with the lyrics. Tommy turned to Technoblade and both brothers started jamming out together while Phil watched, a huge smile on his face.
Another song ended, and Tommy’s gaze fell on Wilbur as he took in the crowd. His eyes were shining brighter than Tommy had ever seen. Finally, Wilbur turned to look at what he thought would only be Technoblade, but when he realised it was his entire family, a new glow took over his features.
“Now, for our last song, I’d like to welcome a guest up onto the stage.” Wilbur spoke into the mic, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. “Someone who helped save this song from being scrapped; please welcome up my little brother, Tommy.”
Tommy’s eyes widened. Wilbur stepped closer to the stairs, and extended his hand. Tommy shook his head, but Technoblade gave him a light push of encouragement, and he found his hand reaching for Wilbur’s.
Within seconds, he was standing on stage. The crowd cheered as he stood there, overwhelmed by the audience of the pub that seemed huge in his eyes.
“Here,” Wilbur said, handing his guitar to Tommy.
“What are you doing?”
“I want you to play,” he explained, adjusting the straps so they fit Tommy. “You remember the chords, don’t you?”
“I-I think so,” Tommy answered, trying to place his fingers on the correct strings.
Wilbur went over the picking sequence as his hand guided Tommy’s fingers to the correct positions until the blonde was playing on his own.
“There, you’re doing it.”
Tommy looked up, grinning. Wilbur nodded at him, then turned back towards the crowd, and started singing. Tommy’s confidence grew with every moment he spent on stage. Playing seemed to get easier, and he found himself bouncing on his feet. He sang the lyrics out loud, and even shared the microphone with Wilbur for the chorus. Before he knew it, the song was over.
“Thank you everyone, we’re Lovejoy, have a lovely rest of your night,” Wilbur concluded.
Tommy took off the guitar and handed it back to Wilbur, as they both hopped off stage.
“That was amazing, Wilbur. You were absolutely outstanding up there,” Phil beamed.
“I really thought you might throw up, but you held out well. You out did yourself,” Techno agreed.
“It was so much fun. I really hope this helps us book more gigs.” Wilbur was buzzing from all the adrenaline flowing through him. “I’m glad you came up, Toms, you were great.”
“I’d argue that he stole the show,” Technoblade teased.
“No way, Wilbur was incredible the entire time.” Tommy argued.
“I’m proud of you for going up,” Phil ruffled the blonde’s hair.
“Oi, mate,” a guy called over to Wilbur. He slung his arm around his friend’s shoulder once he was close enough and started pulling him away from the others. “That was amazing. I’m buying a drink.”
“Right, that’s my call to go make sure no one causes trouble.” Technoblade followed in the pair’s footsteps.
Tommy stayed back with Phil, preferring to watch everyone have fun instead of joining in. Niki spotted him and came over, praising him for how much his guitar skills had improved. They talked for a while before a friend of hers stumbled over, and she excused herself to sort that out.
Tommy realised he was feeling thirsty and turned around to Phil. “Can I get an ice water or something?”
“Of course. I just need to use the bathroom first.”
"I think I’ll be okay waiting for you at the bar.”
“If you’re sure, I’ll meet you there in a bit.”
Tommy nodded, and he headed off on his own. He took one of the empty bar stools, watching the bartender make two drinks for some other customers. While he was waiting, the man next to him turned to look at him before asking a question.
“You’re Wilbur’s brother, Tommy.”
Tommy turned towards him, slightly apprehensive. “Yeah, I’m sorry, who are you?”
“I’m Schlatt, a friend of Wilbur’s.”
The name rang a bell in his mind, calming him down. “He’s mentioned you before.”
“You really rocked the guitar up there, good job.”
“Thanks.”
“Here, let me buy you a beer.”
“No, I’m good.”
“To celebrate.”
“I-I don’t like to drink,” Tommy said, hoping that it would get the man to lay off. Thankfully that seemed to do the trick.
“That’s something you don't really hear from a teenager,” Schlatt chuckled, then added, “Good for you.”
Tommy smiled at the addition, but that didn’t stop the tightening feeling in his chest. The smell of alcohol became extremely strong, and the pub turned hot and stuffy. His head felt a little lightheaded, and suddenly everything around him started to blur.
“How about a coke in-, you okay kid?”
“Y-yeah, I just need some air.”
The ground beneath Tommy’s feet swayed as he stumbled his way through the crowd of drunks. Fresh air hit his face as his quickening breath started to even out. The cold bit at his fingertips, but Tommy found it more comforting than painful.
He crouched down, his back against the wall as he coached himself to take deep breaths, breaking it down into simple steps and counting the seconds for each. In for four, hold for two, out for six, pause, then repeat. He took pleasure in seeing the condensation of his breath in front of his face.
“Tommy.”
The blonde snapped his head up at the sound of Wilbur’s voice. He knew his older brother had been drinking, though it wasn’t obviously clear on him. The only real identification was the strong smell wafting from his clothes, and the light redness in his eyes.
“What’s wrong? Schlatt said you ran off.”
All it took was Wilbur stepping one foot forward for Tommy’s panic to return. The attack came on faster, and stronger than the first one, but he willed himself to stay calm, to focus on his breathing.
“Stop, don’t-don’t get closer.” Tommy breathed, moving away.
Wilbur obeyed, but he was clearly confused. “Did something happen?”
“No- yes-” Tommy shook his head. “Just leave me alone, I’m fine.”
“Tommy, there you are.” Phil’s voice was filled with relief. “Where did you disappear too? I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
“I-I didn’t, it was crowded and I-I.” His breaths turned into gasps, and Tommy found himself breaking down in Phil’s arms, his hands clinging to his dad’s sweater.
“It’s okay, you’re okay now.” Phil’s hand found its way through Tommy’s hair, pushing it away from the boy’s eyes. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I want to go home.” Tommy’s voice was quiet, fragile.
“Of course, mate.” Phil pulled away from the boy and helped him up.
“I don’t know what I did, I’m sorry.” Wilbur stood there, trying to figure out what he had done.
“Everything’s fine, he’s just a bit upset over something.” Phil smiled softly. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? Go back to celebrating.”
“But-”
“It’s okay, Wil,” Tommy assured, wiping the tears from his face. “I guess I’m still tired.”
“Okay,” Wilbur gave in and went back inside while the pair turned around and headed home.
Once they arrived, Tommy collapsed onto the couch. The day had mentally exhausted him, and he didn’t really feel like being alone. His thoughts were too loud for him to make out anything they were saying, so there was no pressure to fill the silence he usually hated.
Phil sat next to him without saying a word, understanding what the boy needed. When he heard quiet sniffles, he said nothing. When Tommy leaned into his side, he pulled him closer, and rubbed his arm in reassurance.
After the weak cries quietened, leaving a comfortable silence behind, they heard voices from outside, followed by the front door swinging open. Wilbur walked in first, grumbling lightly, carrying three pizza boxes in his arm. Technoblade was right on his heels, closing the door behind them, a bag of cokes in hand.
“You’re back early for a weekend night,” Phil raised a brow.
“There wasn’t much to stick around for, and Wilbur just wanted to leave,” Techno explained.
“I had enough,” Wilbur shrugged. “We got pizza on the way back, thinking we could have a movie night or something.”
“Yeah, sure,” Tommy replied, noting that Wilbur was looking at him when he made the suggestion.
“You two go shower, and we’ll get everything ready.” Phil ushered the two boys in the direction of the stairs, then started gathering pillows and blankets with Tommy.
When Technoblade came down, the floor was covered in what seemed like every pillow and blanket they owned. Tommy had settled on the floor, his back against the foot of the couch, in front of where their dad was sitting, both in a deep discussion.
“Have you picked a movie yet?”
“No, still looking through the sections,” Phil answered.
“I’m going to go get some things out of the car before Wilbur comes down. Do you think you can help me, Toms?”
Tommy jumped up, which was Technoblade’s sign to grab his jacket. Tommy slipped his shoes on and followed him outside to the car, knowing that there was another reason behind Techno asking him for help.
“Schlatt said you had a panic attack,” Technoblade started, opening the car to start unloading things. “Wilbur came in really confused after going out to check on you.”
“I felt tired suddenly, and just wanted to go home,” Tommy shrugged.
“Ever since you found out where the gig was, there’s been something off.” Techno set the amp he was holding down and leaned against the side of the car. “My instincts are telling me that you don’t have a stomach bug, and it’s your nerves. You didn’t want to go to the gig for some reason and were scared to say it.”
Tommy met Techno’s eyes, and he found that they weren’t filled with the anger and disappointment he expected. Instead, there was the usual warmth he noticed every time Technoblade looked at him when he thought Tommy wasn’t paying attention.
“Was it the alcohol?”
The blonde moved so he too was leaning against the car, right by Technoblade’s side. “I was going to talk to you about it once but then…” Tommy trailed off, remembering the time he almost spilled everything. “But Wilbur was in your room, pacing. He was already dealing with so much.”
“Problems like these, the ones you shouldn’t have but do because of how hard your life’s been, are serious and you shouldn’t look over them.”
“Sometimes-” Tommy furrowed his brows, struggling to find the words. “Sometimes it’s harder to come clean than to hide it.”
“You’re right,” Technoblade agreed. “Except, by hiding it, you’re most likely hurting yourself in the process. Take today as an example, your nerves didn’t just play with you mentally, but physically too.”
Tommy kicked at the pebbles beneath his feet, not wanting to face the reality of Techno’s words. “It’s just that, Wil’s gig, it’s an important event.”
“I’m not saying that it isn’t, but you Tommy,” Techno grabbed the boy’s hand, squeezing it. “You’re the priority.”
Tommy nodded, grabbing the amp and Wilbur’s acoustic guitar. Technoblade took the electric guitar, as well as the backpack of wires and whatever extra things their brother had packed in there. Wilbur came down the stairs just as they walked in.
“Oh, you got everything, thanks.”
“You were taking forever so we thought we’d be useful,” Tommy shrugged, hiding a smirk.
Wilbur’s eyes seemed to spark at the light-hearted jab. “If you haven’t chosen a movie yet, Niki gave me a recommendation a few days ago.”
The three joined their dad in the living room. Technoblade took the armchair, while Tommy settled down in his previous spot on the floor. Wilbur hesitated for a second before sitting next to the blonde. Phil handed Wilbur the remote, and the movie night started.
Tommy could feel Wilbur’s constant glances on him, but he didn’t actually say anything until halfway through the movie.
“Tommy, can you be honest with me?” he asked, whispering. “Did I do something wrong?”
Tommy shook his head. “I have bad memories relating to alcohol, and I hate being around it. When you came outside, the smell on your clothes was too much.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You were so happy. I didn’t want to ruin that.” Tommy avoided making eye contact as he explained. “I tried to get out of the gig since my nerves were making me physically ill, but then I saw the look in your eyes when dad said he wasn’t going to make it and felt selfish.”
“Hey, none of that please. You had every right to avoid a situation you know will make you uncomfortable.” Wilbur cupped Tommy’s cheek and forced him to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice how distressed you were. I was so wrapped up in everything.”
“It’s okay. You’ve been busy with something you love, and you have every right to be. This is your week.”
“Darling, no music I could ever make will measure up to my love for you.”
“Are you sure I didn’t ruin your first gig?”
“Without a doubt. I mean, everything worked out, didn’t it?” Wilbur laid back down and closed his eyes. “Next time something makes you uncomfortable, can you tell me? Or dad, or Techno. We’ll figure something out, always.”
“I’ll do better, I promise.”
Wilbur cracked an eye open. “You’re already doing great.”
An arm wrapped around Tommy’s shoulder and pulled him down. The next second, his head was laying on Wilbur’s chest. Tommy curled closer into him, his eyes returning to the movie. He always joked that his brother was a walking furnace, and Wilbur would point out that he was the first to take advantage of the fact in response, and Tommy never denied it.
His thoughts were quiet, his stomach was full, and with his family surrounding him, Tommy’s heart felt content. As the movie neared its end, sleep crept up on the blonde. When the darkness tugged at him, Tommy went willingly.
He fell asleep that night, knowing he was loved, and that his problems didn’t make him a disappointment after all.