Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In all the places in the world this story could start, it starts in a quaint little town in Utah. One shouldn’t even call it a town. There was the school, the store, a post office, the empty jail and the not so empty bar, and a single road that connected them all together. If one wanted to own a house here, they’d have to go about a mile out in either direction and try their hardest not to get lost on winding dirt roads filled with potholes and patches of weeds that refused to die in the harsh climate. 

If you were to stand in the center of this little town, and turn in a full circle, the only thing to be seen is the golden brown of dried husks of plants that stretches out over the flat plane. 

Miles from any form of civilization or really any sign of life is a small blue house with chipping paint and loose roof shingles. The house shows signs of obvious neglect, the screen door torn and swaying loose in the light breeze, the window near the side missing a chunk of glass from a stray baseball, the porch itself turning gray and brittle with rotting wood, moments away from falling apart. 

Inside, all is quiet. 

Inside, all is dark. 

Lining the papered walls are photos of a woman with two kids shining with life. From playful candids to awkward school photos, bright smiles are all one can see if they were to wipe the thick dust off the frames. There are marks on doorways, tracking the heights of children that stopped too soon. The dining table, a fun table cloth picturing little animals that have scribbled on hats and mustaches covering the chipped and stained wood, holds piles of discarded and forgotten papers, the chairs surrounding it swamped with dust covered coats. 

The living room features a fireplace with childish scribbles on the wall surrounding it. There’s fuzzy blankets on the couch and stacks of multiplayer video games surrounding a blank tv. The light in the ceiling has been taken down, the light burnt out yet never replaced, as if the inhabitants couldn’t find the energy. The room is cold, and dark, and empty. 

The house, which shows signs of a life filled with much joy and warmth, is an empty hush of what it once was. Is nothing but a shell left over from the loss of that precious life. Is nothing but a ghost, stuck waiting for something that can never return. 

The sound of a door banging open, further scuffing the wall, echoes through the house. A ratty backpack joins ratty sneakers on the floor by the entrance as the kid throws the keys to a worn out car into a chipped bowl on the dusty shelf. Blowing too-long blonde hair out of his blue eyes, he started towards the kitchen, shaking his green handkerchief to try to rid it of dust before tying it around his neck once more. Opening the fridge, the boy sighed at the handful of apples and water bottles. 

“Dad!” Tommy called to the silent house, not expecting a reply. “We’re gonna need to go to the store sometime soon! We’re running low on well, everything…" His voice faded towards the end and he basked in the soft glow of the fridge light, one of the only working lights left in the house, before grabbing an apple and moving on. Maybe he could get Wilbur to bring back some food from The Tipsy Goat for dinner. But for now…

Tommy’s eyes landed on the dishes piled high in the sink and set his apple down on the cluttered counter. He could get a couple things cleaned up so that Phil wouldn’t feel overwhelmed when he woke up. Or so that Wilbur wouldn’t be ass pissed when he got home later. There was nothing Tommy could do to stop him from being angry, but he could do this and hope it helped. 

He wished it helped. 

Tommy worked on the dishes, then got distracted by the garbage so he took it out, then the clothes could do with some washing and before he knew it the sun had sunk below the horizon and Tommy had forgotten to eat his apple. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Tommy looked to see Wilbur’s text.

Anything you need before I leave? it read. 

Could you pick up something to eat? Forgot to go to the store after school. Tommy replied and Wilbur’s immediate reply extinguished any hope Tommy had that Wilbur wouldn’t be angry when he got home. 

He was always angry. 

You shouldn’t have to remember.

Tommy knows that. He knows that Phil should be the one reminding himself. He knows that Phil should be the one worrying about dinner. He knows that this isn’t how anything is supposed to happen. He knows okay! But he’s almost seventeen, he can help out where he can. He can be the one that remembers and takes care of things around the house until Phil gets back on his feet. And he will get back on his feet, it’s just… he needs a little bit more time. Kristin was his wife , Tommy can’t even begin to imagine how much that must hurt him. 

That being said, he did need to eat today. No amount of hurting can justify starving yourself to death. 

Walking down the hallway to the bedroom, Tommy tried not to note the ever growing list of things he’d need to fix. Like the way the carpet was starting to come up on the edges, or that the wall paper was peeling off the walls, or the broken outlet…

At the end of the hall was a door with a green handprint smudged near the bottom. Tommy smiled at the memory, the sounds of laughter and a soft voice telling him to slow down before he got paint everywhere. 

The sound of shuffling inside snapped him out of the memory before he could get lost in it and Tommy smiled to himself. He was moving without prompt, today was a good day. 

He knocked lightly on the door before opening it slowly, wincing at the screaming hinges. He’d take care of that later. 

This room was probably the cleanest in the house, only because there was no actual living done in it. Scattered around the room were photos of a smiling couple, the mirror table had all her jewelry and makeup still sitting where she had placed it for the last time. There was a small pile of clothes in the corner, but it tended not to grow very often, only when Tommy managed to get Phil to take a shower and a fresh change of clothes. Kristin’s side of the bed was clean and neat, her favorite book still face down and open, holding the place for someone who wasn’t going to return, the orange pill bottles surrounding it taking away from the sweet domesticity of it all. 

The light was off, and the curtains were drawn, but Tommy could see the hunched over form of Phil sitting on his side of the bed, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over a picture frame. The joy of small victories made Tommy’s smile grow wider at the sight of Phil sitting up and looking at something instead of laying so scarily still and staring at absolutely nothing almost like- 

Tommy shook his head, clearing it from his mind. He didn’t need to go down that road, nothing good came from that road. It’s better to focus on the moment, no point getting lost in what was. 

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, Tommy crossed the room and pulled the framed photo of Kristin and Phil’s wedding out of his hands. Tommy kept his eyes trained on his father’s as he put the picture on the bed and ducked down so that he could see Phil’s eyes. They were still clouded with deep grief, but Tommy could see the wisps of life inside of them. Slowly Phil’s eyes focused on Tommy and Tommy sent him a smile. 

“Hey old man, you there?” Tommy asked, quietly, always so quiet.

Phil slowly blinked at him, but that was enough of a yes for Tommy to move one. 

“Wilbur’s gonna be back soon with some food, why don’t we go meet him in the kitchen yeah?” Tommy’s smile grew, trying to force every bit of joy he could into his words. If he made it sound like something he really wanted there was a much higher chance of Phil following. “He’s bringing food back from the pub and I know you like the food there.” 

Phil’s head rose to look at the door and Tommy let out a little dance in his head. This was the quickest he’d ever gotten Phil to respond. This was proof he was getting better, maybe Wilbur will be excited for this new development. They were making progress. 

“Yeah, let’s go meet Wilbur to help him carry in the groceries.” Tommy grabbed Phil’s hands and slowly stood, gently pulling the pajama-d man to his feet and leading him out the door. 

As soon as they got to the kitchen, Tommy heard the sound of Wilbur’s van pulling into the driveway. His stomach growled at the idea of food and Tommy locked eyes with the forgotten apple on the counter. 

“I’m gonna go help Wilbur, you stay right here okay?” Tommy said, placing his hands on Phil’s shoulders and making sure Phil was looking at him, actually hearing what Tommy was saying and not letting the words wash over him. That clarity from earlier, that sign of life that gives Tommy the hope to keep going, was still in his eyes. Good, Tommy could work with that. “You’re going to need to eat today so don’t go back to bed.” 

Phil blinked at him and Tommy smiled, “Great, love you dad.” 

“Tommy, could you give me a hand!” Wilbur’s voice said from outside. 

Tommy gave Phil one last smile, patted his arm, turned around and walked out of the house, careful of the one spot in the porch that was bound to give out at any minute. 

The familiar trench coat was sticking out of the back of the minivan, the sound of rustling bags, far too many for just takeout, sent his stomach into another fit of hunger-induced growling. 

Wilbur’s head peaked over the car door and he sent Tommy one of his rare smiles. “Glad to see you decided to come help me out Toms,” Wilbur said, voice oddly teasingly cheerful. “I also went and got some groceries so you didn’t have to tomorrow.” 

“You’re a fucking lifesaver Wil,” Tommy said, starting to walk towards the car, excited at Wilbur’s mood. Maybe this would be a good day for everyone. “What’s got you in such a good mood today?” 

The smell hit him then. The smell of cigarettes and cheap alcohol. Tommy’s smile faltered and he sent a glare towards his currently intoxicated brother, the flush of his cheeks and unfocused glances taking away any chances he had at denying it. 

“You know you really shouldn’t drink and drive,” Tommy chided, grabbing the bags from Wilbur and guiding him towards the front door, making sure he doesn’t step on the weak spot. 

“I didn’t drink and drive,” Wilbur said and Tommy noticed the slur in his speech. “I drank and then I drove. It wasn’t at the same time. Silly Tommy.” Wilbur reached out to ruffle Tommy’s hair, but Tommy ducked and dropped the groceries on the counter, proud of himself that it was cleaned. He had done that, he had made room so that they could keep living. 

Phil was still standing where Tommy had left him, but at the sight of the grocery bags he seemed to get a burst of inspiration and moved to grab the eggs out of the bag. Tommy watched in growing excitement as he opened the fridge and put them in definitely the wrong spot but certainly away. He turned to Tommy and offered him a small, shaky smile. 

Tears sprung into Tommy’s eyes and his grin hurt with how wide it spread across his face. Phil’s smile widened a bit more and Tommy took a step forward just as Wilbur stepped into the room. 

“Wilbur,” Tommy started, his voice thick with excitement. “Wilbur look, he’s putting stuff away, he got up by himself this morning, Wilbur he’s smiling . He’s getting better.” 

Wilbur froze, staring at the sight of Phil grabbing the milk and opening the fridge. Tommy watched, and waited. He’d have to be happy now. He’d have to be. Phil was getting better, they’re dad was showing progress. 

Phil closed the fridge door and noticed Wilbur, giving the man a small smile. 

“Tommy this isn’t anything,” Wilbur said, voice low. Tommy’s face fell as he scrambled to figure out what was going on. Phil was showing signs of life, this was supposed to be a good thing, a happy thing. 

“What do you mean Wilbur, this is everything,” Tommy argued, trying to keep smiling. “He’s getting better.” 

“ Better? Tommy being a functioning human being is better, putting eggs away two years later is not better, it's pathetic,” Wilbur snarled. 

“That’s not fair Wilbur,” Tommy whispered. “That isn’t fair at all.” 

“What isn’t fair ,” Wilbur growled, taking a step into the kitchen. “Is our mother dying and this pathetic excuse for a gene donor not even giving us the grace of going with her, instead dragging us down into a life of nothing .” 

“Wilbur stop-”

“Look at this place!” Wilbur shouted, turning his focus on a frozen Phil. “It’s falling apart. You left an entire house on the shoulders of your fourteen year old son! Who even does that? You haven’t been there for either of us for years and you think eggs are enough? I can’t stand to even look at you. You should’ve left instead of dragging your children down with you.” 

“Wilbur!” Tommy protested but was stopped by the sound of a raspy, unused voice. 

“You’re right,” Phil said and Tommy wished he could be excited for this. He wished he could smile and hug him and tell him how proud he was for making so much progress. He wished he could share this moment with the world. But all he felt was a wave of pure, intense grief at the implication of his words. “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry, doesn't cut it old man,” Wilbur snapped. “ Sorry, doesn’t bring back the years that you missed, and I’m not going to stay here, wasting away until you realize it. I’m taking the van and leaving.” 

Wilbur turned and walked out the door and Tommy was stuck, he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe . He had to do something, anything , this wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Today was supposed to be a good day. 

He’s leaving and your father is losing another person , his brain informed him, pulling him from his panic. 

Tommy whipped around, looking at a silently crying man, that spark of life that inspired so much hope in him earlier disappearing behind that awful, awful fog. He grabbed Phil’s shoulder and forced him to make eye contact, “He doesn’t mean it,” stay calm Tommy, keep your voice steady, he doesn’t need another person freaking out. “I’ll go get him. He doesn’t mean it.” 

The sound of Wilbur’s van starting up caught his attention and Tommy whipped around, panic forcing his legs forward and out the door. 

“Wilbur!” Tommy screamed, throwing the door open, not really caring about the damage it was going to do to the wall that he’d have to fix later. “Wilbur, wait-” 

In his rush, Tommy forgot to avoid the weak spot. There was a loud crack and Tommy went crashing against the porch. His face bounced off the steps and Tommy tasted blood. He pushed himself up and looked at his leg, thigh deep in inky darkness and jagged pieces of wood drawing dark liquid he would not think about out of him. 

The sound of crunching gravel brought his attention to the danger at hand. The van was pulling out of the driveway. Wilbur was leaving . 

“Wilbur!” Tommy screamed, all sense of control he might’ve had falling away. “Wilbur, stop! Please!” Hot, thick tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched the car turn around in the driveway. “Wilbur I’m stuck! Wilbur! Wilbur it hurts, please!” He begged, reaching a hand towards the receding tail lights. “ Wilbur !” 

Tommy didn’t know how long he’d been there, collapsed on the broken porch, chilling wind adding to the shaking of his body as he sobbed and screamed and stared at nothing. He’s not coming back, the little voice in his head, the one Tommy worked so hard to ignore, whispered to him. But it was wrong, it was always wrong. Wilbur would come back, he always came back for Tommy. He never left Tommy for too long. He was just drunk. He’d come back tomorrow when he’d sobered up and realized what an absolute dick he was being. 

God his leg was really starting to hurt, and he still had to make sure Phil ate before going to bed.

Pushing himself up, Tommy examined his leg. The blood had stained a good portion of the wood and there definitely was a worrying amount. On instinct, he flexed his leg making him hiss at the spiking pain. Okay, this was gonna be hard. The hole seemed to only be the size of his leg so when he did eventually get out of here at least it wouldn’t be hard to cover up. However, getting out was going to be a problem. It looked like there were three edges stuck in his leg and if he could feel what felt like four smaller drag marks lower on his leg and his ankle was definitely throbbing. 

“Fuuuuuck,” Tommy sighed, tilting his head back and looking to the stars. They were beautiful tonight, how dare they. How dare they look so beautiful and perfect when his life was currently going to shit, to worse than shit. 

He heard the creak of old hinges behind him and he twisted as much as he could (the leg didn’t agree with him but there was only one other person in the house dammit) to find Phil standing there. 

In another life, Tommy would have started crying and Phil would have called a doctor and gotten Tommy out. In another life Tommy would’ve had Wilbur to keep him calm, reassure him that everything was gonna be okay. In another life, none of this would have happened. 

But instead, Tommy smiled his best smile and kept his tears back as he stared at his dad. Another first, another sign of getting better that Tommy couldn’t celebrate like he wanted. 

“Hey there old man,” Tommy started, his voice strained and his muscles starting to shake from holding him up. “Wilbur’s gone to clear his head, I know he was being a bitch but he said he was gonna be back soon so don’t worry.” Liar. “I found the weak spot in the porch I was telling you about the other day. It’s okay though I should be able to get myself out in juust a second.” 

His muscles gave out and Tommy slipped further into the hole, the wood stretching the tears in his legs more. Tommy let out an involuntary scream and threw a hand over his mouth to try to stifle his sobs as burning fire shot up his leg and that too hot liquid now stretched to his other leg. 

Taking deep breaths, shoving the burning down until it was a manageable ache, Tommy opened his eyes to see Phil had moved in front of him and was frowning at the growing mass of blood that Tommy was now starting to get worried about. 

“Hey, hey Phil, I need you to do me a favor okay?” Tommy said, his breathing picking up. Fuck it hurt. Phil’s eyes flicked up to Tommy and Tommy gave him a small smile at the fact it was getting easier to get his attention. “Can you grab my phone and bring it to me? It’s on the counter.” 

Phil nodded ( nodded, he nodded he didn’t just blink!!!) and stood up, disappearing from Tommy’s field of vision. Tommy’s head sunk to his chest and hissed at the throbbing that came from impact. He groaned when he remembered how hard his face had hit the porch. 

“Fucking Wilbur, could’ve waited to leave till after I was unstuck,” Tommy grumbled. He took another look at the injury, instantly regretting it when the pain came back. “Fuck,” Tommy sobbed, a few tears slipping free from his closed eyes. 

The sound of creaking floorboards warned him off Phil’s presence, giving him time to take a steadying breath before Phil kneeled in front of him again. He held out the phone and Tommy smiled at him, grabbing it from him gently. 

“Thanks Dadza,” Tommy said, immediately dialing the only person he could think of. 

The phone rang and Tommy hoped that he would pick up. The dude was grouchy but he was Wilbur’s work friend (ish) so it’s not like he’d ignore it right?

After the third ring he picked up with an exhausted “what do you want kid?” 

“Heyyy Fundy,” Tommy started, taking deep, measured breaths to try to keep his cool. “You busy?” 

“It’s midnight, whatever you want better be good,” Fundy snapped, which, rude, it’s not like the guy slept. He spent all night playing video games Tommy hadn’t interrupted anything important. 

“Funny story, I kinda fell through my porch and can’t… get out,” Tommy explained, hissing as his leg shifted. Damn his body and not staying perfectly still for however long he needs. 

“And why aren’t you calling Wilbur?” 

Tommy paused, shoving away the memory of those tail lights growing smaller in the distance, “that’s complicated.”

Tommy heard a deep, suffering sign from the other end then “alright I’ll be there in about an hour. Try not to make the situation worse.” 

“Thanks Fundy,” Tommy said before ending the call. Briefly, he considered calling Wilbur but decided against it. If he was driving after not nearly enough time to recover from however much he drank, then Tommy shouldn’t distract him and make his odds worse. 

“I’m so proud of you Dad,” Tommy said instead, making eye contact with Phil, who looked guilty. “You’ve made so much progress today. You’re getting better. Don’t forget that.” 

Phil just stared at him. 

“I know Wilbur said some horrible things but he didn’t mean it okay? He says a lot of stupid things when he’s drunk. You talked today dad. You put away groceries and got up unprompted. You made it out of the house. This is progress, don’t forget that. You’re getting better, alright, I’m so proud of you.” Tommy reached out to touch him and saw his hand trembling so he put it on the ground instead. Now that he thought about it, everything felt shaky, and was it always this dark out? 

“Hey, I think I’m about to pass out, but it’s going to be okay, you hear me? One measly scratch isn’t going to take out the great Tommy Innit,” Tommy said, putting on his best smile. A tear rolled down Phil’s face and Tommy shushed him. “Hey don’t cry. I’m gonna be fine, alright? I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” 

The sound of beeping is what woke him up. At first he thought it was his alarm but it sounded off. 

The bright lights when he opened his eyes is what tipped him off that Fundy had followed through with coming to help him out. 

As his eyes adjusted to the light he saw Fundy scrolling through his phone in the chair next to his bed, dark circles under his eyes that sent a pang of guilt through Tommy. The rest of the room was pretty standard, there was a tv that was playing SpongeBob, the room was devoid of everything but a white board with information about something, Tommy couldn’t focus on it long enough to read it. He wasn’t feeling any pain, but he could feel the bandages on his thigh and something wrapped around his ankle. He must be on some pretty good pain meds if he wasn’t feeling any pain from what had to have been stitches. The wood had been deep. 

Fundy’s eyes flicked up from the phone to Tommy and he sat up in the chair. “Next time you call me, and you’re bleeding out, don’t just say ‘I’m stuck’. Found you passed out in a shit ton of your blood. Wilbur would kill me if he knew I let you die after you called me for help.” 

Tommy winced at Wilbur’s name and Fundy softened, if only a little. 

“Where’s Phil?” Tommy asked, his voice weak and scratchy. 

“He’s back at the house, he was just standing there when I got there and I didn’t wait for him to take you to the hospital.” Fundy answered. A million questions spawned from that but Tommy filed them for later. 

“Has… has Wilbur…” Tommy started, but couldn’t quite find it in him to finish. 

Fundy got the hint, “I called him a couple times, left voicemails and a text, but he didn’t pick up.” 

He’s actually gone. Tommy shook his head, “I’m sure his phone battery just died.” 

“Tommy,” Tommy looked at Fundy who seemed concerned. “What happened? Do I need to call someone?” 

“No!” Tommy said, a bit too quickly if the look Fundy gave him said anything. “No, everything’s okay. Wil and I got into a small argument, he left to go clear his head, I followed after him and I fell in the hole. He was gone so he wouldn’t have seen,” He couldn’t have seen, if he did see that means he left anyways.  

“You’re full of shit Tommy but this isn’t any of my business so I’m gonna leave it.” Fundy said, distracting Tommy from his train of thought. “I will tell you though that the nurse said you’re gonna be in the hospital for a couple of days and that you shouldn’t put any pressure on your leg or you might pop the stitches. Bed rest for about two weeks. You really fucked yourself up Tommy.” 

“I can tell that, thanks,” Tommy snarked, his leg starting to throb. “Wait how long did you say I’m gonna be in the hospital?” 

“Until the doctor releases you, which can be either a couple of days or the full two weeks.” Fundy explained. “They also think I’m your legal guardian so until Puffy gets back from her trip you’re stuck with me. But I have no clue what any of your information is so when you feel like you can do things again, it’s sitting on the table right next to you.” 

Two weeks. That was a long time. Who was going to look after Phil during that time? Sure he’d been doing better but that wasn’t a guarantee. Even people who are doing amazing get relapses and Phil’s relapses could possibly kill him. Tommy can’t lose- 

“Hey Fundy,” Tommy started, picking at the blanket and avoiding eye contact. “You’re already doing so much and I really do appreciate it, but could you-”

“I already checked on your old man,” Fundy interrupted and Tommy felt one of the weights come off his chest. “You’re lucky your house is between mine and the hospital. I’ll check on him every couple of days or so when I come up to make sure you haven’t fallen in any more holes.”  

Still wasn’t great, after what Wilbur said to him Tommy was feeling the need to put him on 24 hour watch, but he couldn’t ask that of Fundy. And besides, Phil was an adult too. He could probably handle himself for a few days. 

A week later Puffy came back from vacation and the next day she arrived at the hospital to take him home. 

To be honest, Tommy was getting kind of antsy. He would relax and find himself enjoying the feeling of not having to be needed and then feel guilty which would get him into a mood and then he’d have all this energy and it couldn’t go anywhere… It was a vicious cycle and he was glad to be done with it. 

Plus, while he trusted Fundy enough, it had been a little over a week since he’d last seen Phil and the last time they saw each other Tommy was dying passing out from blood loss and Wilbur was… Wilbur was… 

Anyway that wasn’t the point. The point was hospitals were awful and Tommy was excited to get home. Puffy and Tommy spent most of the drive back talking about her trip and what they were going to do during spring break. Tommy’s spring break was looking like a lot of couch surfing and YouTube. 

Puffy pulled to a stop in front of the house and helped him inside, Tommy purposefully avoiding looking at the blood stained hole in the porch. 

“Phil! I’m back from the hospital!” Tommy called, his voice echoing in the empty house. He paused, waiting for any sounds of movement before giving up and heading towards the living room.

“Is he not here? The car’s out front,” Puffy asked, standing in the doorway and looking down that long, dark hallway in a sad confusion. Tommy had a feeling she was drawing the type of conclusions he didn’t want her to draw. 

“Nah, we needed groceries so I’m sure he and Wil are out,” Tommy lied, ignoring the pain of the name, of the life they should’ve been living. “If he’s not out with Wilbur then he’s probably asleep. He’s a heavy sleeper sometimes.” 

Puffy didn’t look convinced, but she headed for the kitchen anyway. Tommy could hear the fridge opening and a soft sigh before she came back with an apple and a water bottle. She handed both to him and watched as he downed them, that worried look he couldn’t stand never leaving her face. 

“Thanks for this Puffy, but I think I’ll be alright now,” Tommy said, putting his apple core in the water bottle and throwing the water bottle in the garbage can next to him. “You can go back to Foolish, I promise to call if I need anything.” 

“Are you sure?” Puffy asked, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was afraid she’d break something if she got too loud. Like she was afraid she’d break him. Tommy tried to ignore the complicated swell of emotions at that and focused on keeping his face as neutral as possible. He couldn’t get her to leave if he started acting up. He’d be okay. 

“Yes, Puffy. I’ll be fine, go,” Tommy insisted, using his crutches to help himself up to prove the point. 

Puffy stared at him, he could tell there was something she wanted to say, something big. But she just nodded, “you’re a bad liar Tommy,” she said, giving him a small smile. “But I'll get out of your hair.” 

With that she turned and walked out the door, Tommy following her to the porch to wave goodbye as she got in her car and drove off. Pushing away whatever feelings seeing those tail lights brought up, Tommy took a deep breath and went to see what damage had been done while he was gone. 

Surprisingly enough, the groceries had been put away, the empty bags left on the counter to be quickly swept into a garbage can. There were some dishes in the sink with food stains on them so Phil had at least been eating ( all on his own he was getting so much better why couldn’t Wil just see that- ). When he opened the fridge, the stuff definitely wasn’t organized, it looked to be more placed for convenience than where it would make sense to be but Tommy was so proud of him. 

It didn’t take long to organize the fridge and then Tommy was standing outside of Phil’s door, listening for any sign of movement. Nothing. Fuck. 

Giving a soft knock on the door, Tommy slowly, still so slowly, opened the creaky door and looked into the room. 

Phil was laying on the bed, his arm stretched across to Kristin’s side and eyes that empty glass. 

Tommy took a deep, steadying breath and closed the door. 

According to the weather report there was supposed to be a storm tonight and Tommy could see the hints of clouds gathering on the horizon. The wind was starting to pick up a bit also, lifting some of the dust from the room as it slipped through the house's cracks. 

Tommy was lying on the couch, trying to remember when the last time he took his pain meds was, when he heard a car pull into the driveway. Probably Puffy.

Tommy hoisted himself to his feet, hissing at the uncomfortable pull in his leg, he’d have to take them again soon if standing up was a pain. He made his way to the door, sending a quick look out the window to see who was here. 

Storm clouds were gathering in the sky, reflecting off the glass of a familiar looking van. 

The crutches fell out of Tommy’s hands and he hobbled his way to the front door. He’s back. He’s back, he’s back! I knew it! A smile stretched on his face as Tommy threw open the door. 

“Wilbur!” He called, basically hopping his way across the porch and leaning heavily against the railing. The familiar head of brown locks popped over the edge of the door and Tommy distantly heard himself sob in relief. “Wilbur you came back!” 

“Tommy? What happened to the porch?” Wilbur said as he walked towards the house. Tommy shook his head, drawing Wilbur’s attention away from that blasted hole. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Tommy waved his hand, limping towards him, ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg and the worrying amount of wind that was kicking up a choking amount of dust. “You came back, that’s all that matters.” 

“Of course I came back Tommy, I wouldn’t leave you,” Wilbur said almost distantly, staring at the hole in the porch and giving Tommy an odd look. “Tommy, are you okay?” 

“I am now,” Tommy sighed, staring at Wilbur as if afraid that if he blinked, Wilbur would disappear. 

“Tommy you didn’t actually think I was gonna leave you did you?” Wilbur was staring at him, as if disappointed in him for not having faith in him. 

Tommy’s cheeks flushed and he looked away, mumbling slightly, “you sounded pretty serious.” 

Wilbur shook his head, muttering something Tommy couldn’t quite hear over the wind. He tilted his head towards the door and the two of them headed inside, the door slamming behind them. 

Inside it was quiet, but it was no longer as cold. 

Wilbur stared at the forgotten crutches and Tommy was quick to pick them up, placing them against the wall. He wouldn’t worry Wilbur, not when he wasn’t sure Wilbur was coming back. Wilbur would only blame himself and guilt does funny things to people. 

“Tommy what-“ 

“So did your phone die?” Tommy interrupted, hobbling towards the kitchen, holding back a wince with each jerky step. 

“What?” 

“Fundy tried calling you a couple times, even left a voicemail,” Tommy leaned up against the counter and faced Wilbur, trying to read the man’s ever perplexing expressions. “I even texted you a couple of times, to see how you were doing. Figured after a week of no contact it must’ve been because your phone died and you forgot the charger.” 

Wilbur winced and pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up instantly as he tapped on to something and paled, “I- I’m sorry Tommy, I didn’t see-“ 

“It’s alright Wil,” Tommy cut him off, smiling softly at him. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters. Now, would you mind helping me make something to eat? I’m fucking starving.” 

Tommy turned to head into the kitchen and accidentally slammed his leg against the counter corner in the process. “FUCK!” he screamed, collapsing to the floor and holding his leg as his brain buzzed with pain. Tommy vaguely heard the sounds of someone talking to him, could see a blurry image of someone crouched in front of him, but could hardly focus on anything other than breathing as evenly as he could, on trying to shove that spiking, burning pain into a much more manageable ache. 

“Tommy what’s wrong? What happened?” Wilbur was saying as Tommy slowly got a handle on it. He checked his leg. Good, it wasn’t bleeding. Dr. Whats-it wasn’t gonna get mad at him for popping his stitches. 

“Ah it’s nothing Wilbur, it was just a little scratch,” Tommy lied, his breaths coming in shaky pants. 

“You are a shit liar Tommy, what the hell happened?” Wilbur’s eyes widened. He looked at the crutches, then the door, and finally at the bit of bandage poking out from under the edge of his jeans around his sprained ankle. “Tommy, did you fall through the porch?” 

Outside, the wind howled, the loose dirt pounding against the windows and forcing its way into their house. The clouds blocked out what little was left of the light and the room grew cold and dark. Tommy’s heart sped up into a panicked flutter as a scary look passed over Wilbur’s face. 

The sound of creaking floorboards caught the two brothers' attention and Tommy saw Phil standing in the hall, a questioning, worried look on his face. He must’ve heard Tommy’s scream and came to check on him. If this were any other moment, Tommy would be excited. He was getting more independent, reacting to outside stimuli even on a bad day. 

But instead, Tommy watched as Wilbur slowly rose to his feet, eyes trained on the husk of a man before him. “What did you do?” He growled. 

Tommy scrambled to his feet, catching a hold of Wilbur’s sleeve, “Wilbur it’s not what you think-“ 

Wilbur jerked his arm out of Tommy’s grasp and stalked forward. “How long has he been injured? He has been using crutches this whole time and you were in your room? How shit of a parent must you be to leave your kid to fend for himself when he’s fucking limping !” 

The wind screamed and Tommy’s breathing picked up with it, desperation clawing at his insides. No not again, not again. This can’t be happening again-  

“I didn’t leave him,” Phil said and Tommy would cry with relief with how well he said that if it wasn’t happening like this. If he wasn’t making progress to argue with Wilbur, who is back to being angry. ( So angry, always angry- ). 

“What do you mean ‘you didn’t leave him’ old man, of course you did! You haven’t been there for years, there's no way you started now!” Wilbur snapped, the sound of rocks and branches beating against the walls mirroring his ferocity. 

“I was here, you were leaving,” Phil said simply, staring at Wilbur with an intensity Tommy didn’t realize was still left in him. “He got hurt chasing after you.” 

Wilbur flinched and Tommy froze, willing this all to stop, wishing for it to go away. Why couldn’t they just talk? Why couldn’t they see the miracles happening before them? Phil was talking , he was making progress. Why won’t they stop fighting ? 

“It doesn’t matter anymore, I’m taking Tommy and we’re leaving,” Wilbur snapped with finality and Tommy’s world stopped. 

“What?” Tommy said, voice small and easily overlooked between the two tense adults. 

“To where, Wilbur, you live in a van,” Phil, his voice quiet but strong, present ( he was here, he was talking -), leveled Wilbur with a look. A look Tommy hadn’t seen in years. 

“And you think this is better?” Wilbur screeched, waving his hands around the house. “Anywhere is better than here Phil, I’m done.” 

Wilbur kept going, or maybe it was Phil, Tommy didn’t know, he couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe . He couldn’t leave, Wilbur couldn’t be leaving, why couldn’t they just stop, stop for one minute and realize what was happening. Phil was getting better , they were getting better if they could just stop-

Someone grabbed his wrist and Tommy jerked back, slamming into the wall. Wilbur stared at him, his hand extended. His mouth was moving, he was saying something, but all Tommy could hear was the pounding, pounding, pounding -  

The door slammed behind him and Tommy was enveloped in the storm. He wasn’t quite sure how he got here, all he knew was he needed out, and fast. The dirt was flying everywhere, making it hard to see and even harder to breathe and Tommy found himself instinctually pulling his handkerchief over his face, tightening the knot behind in an attempt to make a better seal. 

The world was spinning, or ending he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. 

Something slammed into the back of his head and everything went fuzzy as he hit the ground. 

He felt his body being lifted by something, a sort of weightlessness as the winds whipped around him in a dramatic frenzy. 

There was the sound of yelling. 

There was nothing but cold, and dark.

Chapter Text

It was the feeling of warmth that woke him up. The warmth of laying in a grassy field on a summer day, the sun soaking into your bones and easing you of your troubles. The kind of warmth he hadn’t felt in a while. 

It was the full body ache that kept him from going back to sleep. Most of it was coming from his leg, he was not excited to see what he had fucked up in that area, but there was a dull pounding spreading from the base of his head to the center of his back. 

And yet, it was the odd sound of snuffling and the breaths blowing across his face that made him open his eyes. 

And immediately freeze. 

Above him was what looked like a strange pig creature. On one side of its face was bright pink skin, an oddly human looking brown eye, its nose was wrinkled in a way only pigs could be and there were tiny ( almost adorable ) tusks jutting out of its mouth. There was a split though, between the left side of its face and the right. The bright pink skin turned into sick looking green that glistened and smelled rotten before cutting off to bright white bone. There was something almost calming about looking into the dark void of the thing’s empty eye socket, a welcoming confirmation of the finality of death. 

A small squeal came out of the pig and its face scrunched up in a smile. A small hand covered in tattered sleeves came up and patted on his cheek. 

“Uh, hullo?” Tommy said, slowly pushing the small thing away so he could sit up. The pig thing squealed again and started babbling something in a language Tommy couldn’t even begin to understand. Or maybe it was just baby. 

Looking around, Tommy took in his surroundings. He was currently sitting on top of what looked to be a broken fence (no wonder his back hurt if this is what he fell on)that followed a yellow painted wooden path back to a large two story brick building that was mostly windows in the middle of a large lake. He was surrounded by rolling green hills with a tree growing here and there and flowers swaying in the soft breeze. 

There was an odd stillness about everything that made Tommy pause. That was obviously a house, and there was obviously someone who lived here if everything around looked this well maintained; but, there was not a single sign of life in sight. There was only the pig kid, and if the rope around his neck said anything it wasn’t by choice. 

Struggling to his feet, Tommy brushed the remaining dust off of his clothes, shaking his handkerchief out before re-tying it around his neck again. 

“Alright you little shit,” Tommy said to the pig kid. “Let’s go see if anybody’s home.” 

There was absolutely nothing inside of the house. Not a single sign of life. 

The first thing Tommy saw when he walked in was this spiral staircase that led to the second story (which Tommy found was just a fancy roof) and four exits, each with a sign hanging above the door. Any hope for actual directions was lost on the fact that the doors were only labeled with north, south, east, and west. He did find a chest in the room, but the only thing inside was some spiderwebs and bits of cloth, not exactly something that could be used. 

“Where the fuck am I?” Tommy muttered, mostly to himself but he imagined he was talking to the little pig-child to not feel as weird about talking to himself. He’d only been here for a few minutes, he couldn’t lose his mind that quickly. 

Speaking of the kid, the little munchkin had started tugging at the rope around his neck and making pointed sounds of help that Tommy knew he couldn’t ignore. 

“Alright kid, hop up here so I can reach it easier,” Tommy said, patting the stairs next to him. 

With far too much excitement, the kid clambered up the stairs and tugged on the rope expectantly. Tommy grabbed the rough cord and started working at the knot, surprised at how tight and complicated it was. Someone really didn’t want the kid loose. It didn’t really make sense to him, the kid hadn’t been tied down this entire time, had even been free before Tommy had woken up, and yet nothing bad had happened yet. He had a feeling it had something to do with the rotted away face of his, but Tommy didn’t mind. Company was company after all. 

No matter how much Tommy picked at it, the rope wouldn’t loosen. Tommy could feel desperation starting to rise in his chest as he tugged at the knot and the kid looked at him with such hope in his eye. He couldn’t just leave the kid with a rope around him, that’d be cruel. He may be a pig-thing but he wasn’t an animal. 

Tommy huffed, staring at the knot and looking around for something to try to cut the rope. 

He looked at the window and felt an old spark of destructive joy in him, something he hadn’t felt in a while. 

“Wait here one sec,” Tommy waved at the kid, walking over to the chest and grabbing the cloth from the bottom. Choosing a window at random, Tommy slammed his elbow into the center, the glass immediately shattering into dozens of sharp shards. Grinning at the sound, Tommy wrapped his hand in the cloth and picked up the sharpest looking piece, making his way back to where he left the kid. 

The kid gave the sharp piece of glass an uneasy look, shifting from foot to foot a little, but stayed in his spot as Tommy walked up to him. “Don’t worry kid, I’m just gonna cut the rope, nothing else.” Tommy muttered, waiting for the kid’s small nod of okay before reaching for the rope. 

The glass cut through the rope easier than Tommy thought was possible, and probably realistic, but who was he to complain about life being easier? The less work he had to do the better. That’s probably why the lights hadn’t been fixed in his house yet. 

His house. 

Fuck. Where the hell was he? Was Phil okay? Was Wilbur? What even happened? 

Tommy could feel panic start to crawl into his chest, seizing his lungs and heart in an ice cold grip, keeping them from functioning properly. A low hum echoed in his ears, filling his brain with buzzing tv static. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? He was in a storm in the middle of bumfuck Utah and now he was in this lifeless green field in god knows where. How was he gonna get home? He didn’t want to leave them, honest, he just wanted… he just wanted…

A cool feeling on his face caught his attention and Tommy focused on the pink and white of the kid’s face. He remembered a trick he learned from Puffy a few weeks after Kristin had died. Focus on each of your senses and what they’re feeling. 

He could see the kid’s increasingly worried face as he babbled at Tommy. He could feel the rough fiber of the rope and the sharp edge of the glass in either hand. He could smell the water that surrounded them in the air, nearly covering the rot from the kid. His mouth tasted dry, but then again he’d never been good at figuring out that sense.

Taking a deep breath, Tommy forced down the last of his panic and took in his surroundings once more. There wasn’t a map or a clear direction to go… maybe if he chose one and just went, there was a chance he might bump into whoever built this place.

Tommy looked at the kid, weighing his options. There was nothing here so either he could stay and starve, or wander into unknown territory where anything could happen. 

“I’m trusting you not to let me get myself killed,” Tommy said to the kid, pointing a finger at him to make sure he got his point across clearly. The kid tilted his head, blinked his eye with that childlike innocence you see on tv, and pointed a finger back at Tommy with blatant confusion.

“I am so fucked,” Tommy muttered to himself, shaking his head before choosing a door and walking, the kid close behind him. 

It had been hours, and there was only so many times you could hum Able Sisters before you got bored. The landscape hadn’t changed the entire time he’d been walking, the kid by his side the entire time. Every once in a while he’d get distracted by a cool rock and then the two would go rock hunting for a few minutes, making it a competition on who could find the coolest looking rock. The kid tended to win. A lot. But hey, who was Tommy to deny the kid the joy of victory? His last one was a solid contender though and he’d die on that hill. 

“I’m starting to think we’ve taken the wrong path pinky,” Tommy said to the kid, the bright green around him almost boring now that it’s been the only thing Tommy’s seen for hours. “Think we’ll find something interesting before we have to make a treehouse?”  

The kid hopped excitedly at the mention of the possible treehouse and started looking for potential candidates. 

“You go little man,” Tommy smiled, tugging at his handkerchief distantly as the kid’s energetic behavior brought him back. If he focused, he could hear the distant sounds of bright laughter and the squeals of young children as they tousled in a grassy field much like this one. 

The details were fuzzy, it had been a long time since they had visited this park. It was when they still lived in England and they were the picture of a healthy family. It was Tommy’s fifth birthday and they went to visit one of those parks that are more trees and paths than playgrounds. He remembered how upset he was at first that he wouldn’t be playing on your typical playset- he had challenged Wilbur to a swinging contest you see- but quickly found himself enraptured by the way the light seemed to turn into glitter as it filtered through the leaves of the trees. 

The four had spent the day walking along the winding path, Wilbur and Tommy chasing each other through the trees, before coming to a stop at the top of a hill, a large tree covering the bright green grass with cool shade. Wilbur and Tommy had immediately decided that the tree was grounds for a new challenge to take place. No longer did they care about the swingset, there was only who could climb to the top first before Kristin called them down. 

They never did reach the top. 

They had climbed about halfway up the tree before Tommy made the mistake of looking down. Far below him- too far for his young child brain- he saw Kristin and Phil setting up a picnic. Tommy had gotten a vivid image of him falling and breaking his head in front of his parents and had frozen, eyes immediately filling with large tears. Wilbur turned, probably noticing the lack of cheating accusations, finding Tommy clutching the trunk of the tree, body trembling with fear as streams of silent tears fell down his face and hit the ground he was staring at. 

Wilbur had immediately climbed down the branch across from him, “Tommy,” he had said, “Tommy it’s okay.” 

“Is everything okay up there?” Phil’s voice, alive and filled with that boundless joy, had been the thing to break Tommy’s silent struggle, the young boy bursting into loud, terrified sobs. 

“Tommy’s stuck!” Wilbur called down, but Tommy could hardly hear anything over the sound of his panic. 

He remembered staring at that far, far drop, then two arms picking him up from his branch and holding him close to their body. 

As soon as the ground was out of sight, Tommy immediately felt better. Better enough to recognise his Mom gently rocking him and whispering small comforts into his hair as she rubbed his back. 

Slowly but surely, the fear faded and Kristin and Tommy worked their way back to the ground. 

“I think that’s enough climbing for the day,” Kristin said, taking the offered sandwich from Phil’s hands and handing it to Tommy. “Why don’t we just enjoy this view for now?”

Tommy doesn’t remember the view. In fact, he hardly remembers much after that. He knows they had to have walked back eventually, remembers getting into an argument with Wilbur in the car ride, but nothing else. He wished he could remember everything, wished he’d never wasted a single minute. 

As the last of the memory faded away, Tommy felt the dampness of tears on his face. He hadn’t let himself remember stuff like that in a long time, funny that it happened now. Must’ve been because there was nothing else going on. It was easy to just brush past memories if you had a house to keep running with only Wilbur’s odd checks to fund it. 

Speaking of distractions…

Where was the kid?

There was no sign of that familiar pink anywhere. 

Tommy spun in a circle, panic gripping his chest. He knows that he’d only had the kid around him for a couple of hours but…

But he was all alone, and so was the kid and if there was one thing Tommy knew was that being alone was the absolute worst. 

“Kid?” Tommy called, walking a little more down the road, searching the trees to see if he had decided to explore potential tree house candidates up close. “Hey! Where did you go?” 

He walked to the top of the next hill, hoping the height would give him an advantage and saw… 

Flowers?

“Where the fuck did those come from?” Tommy whispered as he stared upon what must’ve been miles and miles of round, purple flowers. Alliums, he remembers Kristin calling them. They were slightly swaying in the breeze, a little spot of pink poking out from them every so often. The kid had ran into the flower field while Tommy was distracted.  Tommy couldn’t really blame him , he was a kid after all and little kids tended to go toward colorful things. But he could’ve at least told Tommy where he was going, even if it was in babble. 

Fondly shaking his head, Tommy started down the field to go find the kid. 

The flowers were a lot taller than he was expecting. He thought only sunflowers got taller than knee height, but these were about up to his hip. 

He also could not see the kid anywhere. Which, in hindsight, makes sense. The kid was small as shit and these flowers were surprisingly tall. It would make sense that the kid would just disappear in them. The difficult part was the fact that you couldn’t exactly go off of landmarks, it was just swaying purple as far as the eye could see. 

“Alright kid, where are you?” Tommy shouted over the field of flowers. He heard a little giggle somewhere to his right. 

Oh. 

They were gonna play huh?

Straightening, Tommy searched for that familiar pink out of the corner of his eye as he made a show of searching through the brush. “I wonder where he went?” There was a flash of movement and a poorly stifled snicker right where he thought he heard the kid the first time. “Is he… over here?” He swiped away some of the flowers, taking a small step towards the kids hiding spot. “Nooo. How about… here!” 

He continued the actions, getting slowly closer towards the kid’s hiding spot as he went. He got a hazy memory of doing this himself when he was really little with Mumza while Wilbur was at school, and he almost lost focus on the game at hand. 

What was it that Kristin had done at this point in the game? Right. 

“I wonder where he went…” Tommy took a step forward and feigned tripping over something. “Oh no!” 

As he disappeared under the line of flowers, he heard a worried squeak then a nervous hush. The kid wasn’t sure if it was a trick or not. 

The fool. 

Ever so slowly, ever so carefully, Tommy crawled right behind the unsuspecting child and got into a crouch. The kid was just about to take a worried step forward when Tommy scooped him up into the air from behind, “Gothcha!” 

The kid squealed , a wide smile on his face, his eyes scrunched in pure, untainted joy . It sent warmth, a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time, surging through his chest, pulling a matching smile on his face. 

Tommy settled the kid on his hip, sending light tickles up and down the kid’s side, causing another round of screeching giggles. Tiny hands pushing against his arm weakly. “Oh yeah? You want me to stop?” Tommy asked, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. The kid nodded. Tommy gave him a few more tickles before relenting. “No more sneaking off without me, got it?” 

Breathless, the kid nodded in assent before slumping against Tommy’s shoulder. He closed his eye and buried his face in Tommy’s neck, stubbornly saying he was too tired to walk and Tommy was gonna have to carry him. 

“Hey!” Tommy protested lightly, but shifted his arms to better hold the kid without throwing out his back. The kid, like most toddlers, was instantly asleep as soon as he had found a semi-comfortable position against Tommy’s shoulder. “Alright, I guess you can stay there.” 

Tommy spun in a circle, careful not to wake the kid, and started walking towards what looked like an empty white feil way out in the distance. 

This place was really pretty. Not for the first time Tommy found himself wondering where on Earth he could’ve possibly been. Utah was too boring to have areas of still greenery like this. Plus the last thing he remembered was a storm…

There was no way… 

Did he get kidnapped? If so, they did a shit job. They kinda forgot to keep him held hostage and there really wasn’t anything they had worth ransoming. 

Maybe if he walks far enough he’ll find one of those old time-y phone booths. Oh but those were pay per use…

The ground beneath him got all weird and uneven. A yelp, a thump, and a desperate attempt to keep the napping child from hitting the ground later found Tommy looking up at that perfect blue sky with only crushed alliums to cushion his fall. His ribs flared up and he hissed at the pain the forgotten injury caused. 

In front of him, a dark shape shot up. Long, distorted limbs with ugly looking stitch work crisscrossing over them shot up to his face where crooked fingers poked at the shoe print stretching across it. 

In all honesty, he was kinda freaky to look at. 

He was void black on his right and pure white on his left. The eyes were a solid green on the right and a deep, unsettling red on the left. Across his forehead was a long bloody gash that had been stitched close but hadn’t been bothered to clean up yet. His matching dual colored hair was an absolute mess with dirt and blood and… something else poking out of it. His mouth extended past the cheek and when he gave a little “ouch” Tommy saw it stretch up to his ears with a dark purple mouth and wickedly sharp teeth. He was wearing the tattered remains of a white button up and dress pants, the shirt sleeves torn at the elbow and the pants ripped into more of a capris situation. His tie was loose, but probably the neatest thing about him, a golden ring shining against it. 

The man was covered in those ugly, bleeding stitches. There were some wrapping up his arms, two circling his ankles, one around his neck (that one must be really painful) and that giant, honestly terrifying one that stretched across his forehead and disappeared into his hairline. 

The man really needed a bath, at least to get the dirt out of his hair. Tommy was silently happy they were surrounded by so many flowers, he didn’t want to know what a walking corpse smelled like. 

On a closer inspection, Tommy could see something light yellow and small sticking out of every open wound. It almost looked like… no it couldn’t be… 

Was that straw?

In his arms, the kid moved and turned to look at what had woken him up, his eye widening at the creature before them. 

“What the fuck are you doing on the floor?” Tommy shouted, getting to his feet. “People are walking here you know! And look at what you did, the kid was sleeping!” 

The creature turned and looked at Tommy, his eyes blinking at him slowly. He seemed dazed. Like he had no clue what was happening or how he even got there. He must’ve had a drink too many or something, which is really dangerous if he had just gotten out of what looks like surgery. 

“I… are you… real?” he said, his voice soft and shaky. 

“Yeah? Course I’m real, there’s no way you could imagine someone as awesome as me, or as adorable as this little guy,” Tommy gave him a strange look. “Are you alright? You seem kind of… you’re not crazy are you?” 

“I don’t know,” the guy whispered, his eyes unfocusing as he started rubbing his hands on the flowers around him. 

“Right,” Tommy said, taking a hesitant step back. “I think I’m just gonna go ahead and leave you to it.” 

The man’s eyes snapped to him and in a blink he was in front of Tommy with both hands clutching his shoulders in a death grip, the tip of his claws digging in uncomfortably, “Don’t go!” he shouted, his eyes blown wide in panic. Tommy’s breath caught in his throat, his muscles locking in fear. Shit, fuck, he’d pissed the wackjob off. “Please, please I can’t be alone anymore!” 

His face crumpled and he let out a sob, “please I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who I am. I need to get back though. I need to get back to him. Please help me,” he begged. 

“Get back to who?” Tommy forced out. 

One of his hands grabbed the cord around his neck and pulled on the string, the ring catching the light. Tommy was wrong about the tie, this was the cleanest thing on the guy. There wasn’t a hint of dirt on it and while it was simplistic in design it was obviously loved. Whoever had given him that must’ve been really close to him. As Tommy looked at the spinning ring, his mind went back to Phil, how lost he was after Kristen. He couldn’t not help this guy now. 

“I can’t remember his name but, but he has the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. He smiles at you and everything feels right. I have to get back to him,” the man let go and stumbled back a step before collapsing back to the ground. He put his head between his knees and let out a long sigh. “I can’t get out of here though. It’s just flowers as far as the eye can see, as far as these legs can walk and I don’t know where I’m going.” 

The kid wiggled in Tommy’s grasp so Tommy set him down on the ground. Immediately, he raced over to the stranger and wrapped his arms around the guy’s shoulders. The guy’s head turned to face the kid and his eyes seemed to shine. “Thanks little guy,” he whispered. 

The kid gave him a nod before letting go and walking back to Tommy, pulling Tommy down so that they were all sitting in a circle, a single allium left swaying in the middle. 

“Do you have a name?” Tommy asked after a few moments of frankly uncomfortable silence. 

“I… I think so.” he said, face scrunching up in concentration. Tommy winced as he watched it pull at the stitching on his forehead. How could this guy not feel that? “I know it started with an ‘r’ and that it had something to do with color.” 

Tommy shared an incredulous look with the kid, “are you telling me your name is Rainbow?” 

His spine seemed to straighten and an excited glint replaced that horrible haze in his eyes, “Ranboo! My name’s Ranboo! And my husband calls me Boo whenever he wants something! I have a husband!” 

“Anything else up there you care to tell the class?” Tommy said, probably a bit too sarcastically but Ranboo had really scared the shit out of him okay? He thought he was gonna have to defend the kid! 

Ranboo stared at the kid, eyes blinking slowly. There was a faint haze of recognition there, but it seemed as if he couldn’t quite figure out what he was recognizing. “What’s his name?” 

“Uhhh,” Tommy looked toward the kid. He had been about ready to die for him and hadn’t even asked for the kids name yet? “I haven’t asked yet. What is your name?” 

The kid went up to Ranboo and softly bumped his head against the taller’s arm. Ranboo gasped and picked the kid up, holding onto him for dear life “Micheal! Oh my god Micheal you’re okay!” He sobbed into the kid’s-Micheal’s head. Micheal made a small whining sound and wrapped his arms carefully around Ranboo’s neck. 

“Boo!” Micheal squeaked and Ranboo’s smile stretched from ear to ear (literally it was quite a sight to behold). 

The two stayed in that desperate embrace, Ranboo muttering Micheal’s name over and over. Micheal’s face was tear stained when he pulled away finally and pointed at Tommy, saying something in his little baby babble. Ranboo nodded at him before looking up at Tommy. 

“Thank you so much for finding him,” Ranboo said, “I don’t have anything to give you in return right now, but for Micheal, I give you a favor. You found my son.” 

“Hold up,” Tommy said, mind reeling. There were so many things happening right now, all of them getting more and more confusing the longer he thought about it. “He’s your son? I found him tied to a post! Talk about irresponsible parenting.” 

Ranboo flinched, “I’m not sure what went wrong. I know… I remember that we put him to bed and then the next morning he was gone. I know we looked everywhere for him. I think I remember… there was a photo… green…” Ranboo’s eyes unfocused and his face screwed up in pain. Hints of a staticky purple crept in the edges of his eyes and his face fell into an empty blankness. 

“Uh, Ranboo?” Tommy said, sending a concerned look towards Micheal, who was quick to wrap his arms around Ranboo again.

“Boo!” Micheal said and that unsettling purple faded away, his eyes focusing on the little child in his lap. 

“Hey Micheal, did I space out again? I’m sorry.” Ranboo kissed the top of Micheal’s head. He looked up to see Tommy and startled. “Uh, hey. Um, who, who are you?” 

“Name’s Tommy big man,” Tommy introduced, rising to his feet. He held a hand out to Ranboo and was surprised by how cold Ranboo’s hands were. “And we are gonna get you back to your husband.” 

Jesus fuck Ranboo was tall. Tommy was nearing six feet and still Ranboo had at least a foot on him. An annoying trait for sure, now he was gonna have to look up whenever he wanted to talk to him. Bitch. 

Micheal, attached to Ranboo’s hip (which makes sense if Ranboo really was his parent) made a little “ah” sound and reached his hands up. Smiling softly, Ranboo nodded his head and placed Micheal on his shoulders. Micheal’s hands brushed over the top of Ranboo’s head as if on instinct, frowning when he realized his hands came up empty. Tommy brushed it off and started looking around for any signs of life other than flowers. 

“See anything up there big man?” Tommy said, looking up towards Micheal. Micheal, having moved on from his confusion and now just held on to Ranboo’s long pointed ears, squinted at the horizon. His eye widened and he kicked against Ranboo’s chest with excitement, pointing ahead of them. 

“Looks like we’re going straight,” Tommy laughed as Ranboo winced slightly at the tug on his ears. 

“Looks like it.” 

As the three of them walked, the thick flowers thinned until there was nothing but grassy hills. They had completely lost any form of trail that they had been following before, but in Tommy’s honest opinion the trail wasn’t getting them anywhere anyways. 

As the sun slipped beneath the horizon, a chill breeze blew in, sinking into Tommy’s bones. He hated the cold, hated it with a burning passion. It only served to remind him of the warmth he’d lost, and he didn’t like remembering. 

Light gray clouds swallowed up the last of the twinkling stars, Micheal letting out a small sound of protest as the sky turned gray. 

Tommy felt a spike of anxiety as the clouds swirled and shifted in the biting wind. Last time he’d seen clouds like that he’d ended up with a pig sidekick. Hopefully the storm wouldn’t be that bad, his head was still throbbing. 

Something small and white drifted slowly from the sky, landing gently on Tommy’s nose. It melted within moments, the cool liquid dripping down his face as another followed soon after. 

“Is that… snow?” 

Chapter Text

It was, in fact, snow. And a lot of it as well. 

Within minutes, the snow had coated the ground deep enough Tommy was sinking in to about his shins with every step. The snow was seeping into his clothes, melting against his body only to refreeze by the next step. It seemed to crawl into his skin, his bones, his heart and left him wrapping exposed arms desperately around himself, trying to hold on to the last bit of warmth. 

The snow was coming down too hard for Tommy to see much farther than a few feet in front of him, the sharp wind stinging his face. To his left, Ranboo had tucked Micheal into his chest and hunched over him to try to protect the kid from as much of the cold as he could. It may have been Tommy’s eyes freezing in his head, but he could’ve sworn he saw Ranboo’s skin steaming from where the snow had melted. 

The wind howled with bitter vengeance and Tommy’s head dropped away from the duo to try to shield his face the best he could. His eyes caught the green handkerchief around his neck, snow dusting the fabric. It brought Tommy back to the coldest day of his life. 

The one when Kristin got sick. 

It made sense that someone so warm would fall on the coldest day of the year. At least, it made sense to Tommy. Everyone seemed too preoccupied with something for Tommy to see if they felt the same. If they too felt that solemn weight settle in their chest as he watched his mother disappear behind the yellow ambulance doors. 

It had happened so suddenly.

One minute the two were talking about what Tommy planned to do for his big thirteen tomorrow, the next Kristin was on the ground, her head bleeding from where she hit it on the counter. 

She convulsed once, twice, then lay still. 

Tommy had screamed. He had screamed till his voice had run out and still he tried to get her to wake up, to get her to react, to get someone to hear him. 

He didn’t know how long he had sat there, cradling Kristin’s head in his lap as he begged for her to open her eyes. But then there were hands on his shoulders, pulling him away. He struggled against them, he couldn’t leave her. Didn’t they see that? She was so still he couldn’t leave her. 

Someone was saying his name. They were still trying to pull him away. 

A flash of blonde hair. Blue eyes once bright as day, now sharp with worry. 

“Tommy!” Phil was saying. “Tommy what happened?” 

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, ‘ she fell’ he went to say. ‘ Hit her head on the counter’ . All that came out was a small squeak followed by a broken sob. He sobbed and Phil wrapped him in his arms, brushing his hand through Tommy’s hair and hushing him softly. There was a glimpse of a yellow sweater and Tommy found himself being comforted by Wilbur who was… pulling him away? 

Tommy tugged himself back, not wanting to leave her. He couldn’t leave, he couldn’t just let his Mom lie there on the floor. 

“Tommy, you have to move so the paramedics can get to her.” Wilbur’s voice. The voice that sang to him and told him stories as they resisted sleep in their bedroom. The voice he trusted completely. He was telling her to leave Kristin. But he couldn’t do that, could he? “Tommy, please.” 

Reluctantly, Tommy rose to his feet and let Wilbur guide him to their table. 

Tommy watched as strangers burst into his home and took her away. He stood on the steps to their flat as the taillights faded into the distance. 

That night was the coldest night of the year, and it was the coldest night of Tommy’s life. 

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring after fading tail lights, but at some point Wilbur came out and covered Tommy’s shoulders with his big brown coat, joining him on the steps.  

With the comforting weight, Tommy managed to escape that distant, floaty feeling and sink back into his body. At once he noticed he was wearing a t-shirt in negative weather. He shivered, going to wrap the coat further around himself when he noticed the blood. A deep red stained his clothes from his stomach to his knees. 

It was Kristin’s blood. 

He was covered in his own mother’s blood. 

A strangled noise ripped out of Tommy’s throat as he stared at the foul fabric in terror. 

It was red. It was so, so red. It was on him, sinking into his skin, his bones. Tommy’s skin crawled and his stomach twisted, the feeling of the damp clothes sending his mind reeling . That had come from her head, that had come from his Mom-

Someone was saying something, there was that touch again on his shoulders. 

He couldn’t hear them, the only thing he could focus on was that deep, deep red as it seemed to spread higher and higher, inching its way towards his heart. 

There was something wet on his face. Oh god it was there too. He had her blood on his face. He was covered in it, swimming in it, drowning in it- 

“Tommy, breathe please!” A desperate wail coming from a voice that sang the softest melodies. 

Wilbur. 

Wilbur was there, but where was he? Tommy couldn’t see him, all he could see was that awful, sticky, red-

“Tommy, come on. I know you can do it,” Wilbur’s voice again. “I know you can hear me, you always hear me, so listen to me now, okay? I want, no I need you to breathe with me.” 

Breathe? How could he when his lungs were filling with that damning liquid? Why should he be breathing when she was not? 

“C’mon Tommy,” another desperate plea. “Please, just breathe. I know you can do it.” 

Wilbur was begging. Wilbur never begged. He had to do it now, whatever it was Wilbur wanted. It would be rude of him not to. 

Tommy focused on the grounding feeling of the hands on his shoulders, felt the warmth of them valiantly fighting against the bitter cold in his bones. He focused, and he started to hear. He could hear Wilbur taking deep, exaggerated breaths, instructing Tommy to follow along. 

It was difficult, but he tried. He would take a breath, do his best to choke down that wet suffocating feeling, blatantly ignore that vile liquid on his clothes, and let it out as slowly as he could before that horrible weight had him gasping for more air. 

“There we go Tommy,” Wilbur was saying as Tommy’s frantic gasps turned into shaky breaths. “I knew you could do it.” 

Tears sprung into Tommy’s eyes as he looked at Wilbur’s worried, but gentle face, “I’m covered in her blood.” He managed out. It was the first thing he had said to them since the accident. “Wilbur, I’m covered in her blood.” 

Wilbur looked him over, his eyes catching that sickening red Tommy refused to look at for even a second longer. His eyes shone with pity as he looked back up to Tommy’s eyes, “I know Toms, we’ll get you cleaned up okay?” 

Tommy nodded, his words lost again. That bitter cold and crimson liquid had stolen them from him, like they stole her. 

Wilbur gently, ever so gently, guided Tommy to his feet and walked them back inside to their flat. 

Tommy would find out later that the reason she had fallen was because she was sick. Sick with something they could not cure, only treat the best they could and hoped she would pull through. 

Kristin was strong, if anyone was going to make it it was her. 

He hated when he was wrong. 

“I think I see a house!”

Ranboo’s voice, a quiet beacon in the raging storm, pulled Tommy from his thoughts. 

Tommy raised his head, squinting against the swirling white. He wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing, but it was definitely something orange and flickering. The flickering could be coming from the gaps in the snow, but that orange. Orange meant warmth and warmth meant life, meant shelter . 

With renewed energy, the two pushed themselves forwards, nearly running towards that beckoning light. The closer they got the more detail Tommy was able to make out. A dark shape that slowly evolved into a porch with windows and an awning that offered relief from a good portion of the storm. 

Peering through the window, Tommy could see blurry outlines of a lit fireplace with a sofa in front of it. The fire seemed to be dying so whoever had originally lit it hadn’t been there to take care of it for a while. That meant either asleep or somewhere else in the house. 

Tommy heard a small knock on his left and turned to see Ranboo staring at the door with a look of confused recognition. It was the same look he had been giving Micheal before realizing who it was. A scarred hand, shaking from what had to have been the cold, trailed down the front of the door. Micheal wriggled from Rangoo’s grasp, dropping to the hardwood porch and walking over towards a rock under the window. A vivid image of Micheal throwing the rock through the window crossed his mind and Tommy wondered how he was going to deal with the bundle of problems that would inevitably bring about. 

Tommy caught the glint of metal and then Micheal was unlocking the front door. He was trying not to feel too disappointed over the fact that he wouldn’t be breaking in through any windows movie-style, but the fact that Micheal knew where the key was made him more curious than disappointed. 

Plus it was warmer inside. 

As Tommy crossed the threshold, he looked back to see Ranboo still staring blankly at the door, two trails of steam rising from his cheeks. 

“Ranboo?” Tommy said carefully, taking a small step towards the other. “Hey, can you hear me buddy?” 

Ranboo seemed to blink back into himself and offered Tommy a shaky smile, “Did Micheal get the door open?” he said. “I can never remember where I put the key.” 

“Yeah, Micheal went in a second ago,” Tommy waved behind him, keeping his eyes trained on Ranboo. Alarm bells were going off in the back of his head, but he couldn’t quite figure out what was bothering him so much. Tommy has seen people retreat into themselves before, knows the unfocused stare better than he knows his own reflection, but his eyes kept going to that nasty stitchwork criss crossing over his skin. He knew there was more to what was going on.

A cold breeze rushed past him and into the house. Tommy shivered and pushed the thoughts away for later. He would have plenty of time to figure out what about Ranboo made him so suspicious when he was cuddled up close to a fire and Micheal was in sight again. “Let’s get you inside, big man.”

Inside the house was dark. The only light source came from the fire in the living room, but the hallway that went further into the house was choked in a dark shadow. He could slightly make out frames on the walls, but wasn’t curious enough to tempt it. 

Micheal had thrown himself on the couch, immediately wrapping the discarded blankets around him till all Tommy could see was the top half of his face. There was the sound of a muffled sigh and his eye closed in contentment, leaning back against the arm of the couch. 

Smiling fondly, Tommy sat down on the couch next to him and looked around. The room was warm, almost stiflingly so, with little to no decoration in it. There was a chest in the corner (locked or Tommy would have been tempted to snoop), a soft rug covering hardwood floors, the fireplace a large brick piece that took up most of the dark oak walls. There was the dark green couch that stretched to an ungodly length, Tommy bet even Ranboo could lay down on it and not have limbs hanging off the sides, and it was covered in cozy blankets, the one Micheal was wrapped up in had patterns of chickens on it. It all seemed oddly domestic. Whoever lived here must’ve been happy, the house didn’t seem to have a speck of dust anywhere in it. 

Tommy saw a flash of movement to his left and caught sight of Ranboo disappearing into that dark hallway. For a brief minute he considered chasing after the tall weirdo, but the warmth of the soft cushions quickly put an end to that. Whatever the fuck Ranboo was doing, Tommy was sure he could handle himself. Right now he needed to sit next to Micheal and enjoy the last of the warmth from the glowing embers. 

An odd thuck-bong sound echoed from where Ranboo had disappeared, followed quickly by a loud thud. Tommy launched from the couch, Micheal making a sound of distress next to him, and raced down the hall, not hesitating for a second when he slipped into the deep darkness. 

There was the sound of a horrified gasp just as Tommy rounded the corner. 

There was Ranboo, sprawled over the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut, a seam on his forehead loose and leaking bloody straw down the side of his face. Standing above him was a shadowed figure with tall, curling horns, dark brown hair that covered most of the face, and a shiny metal arm gripping the handle of a pan tightly. Their pajama-covered chest rose in quick, unsteady breaths as a trembling, non-metal hand reached for Ranboo’s face. 

“Get the fuck away from him,” Tommy growled, crossing the room in an instant. He grabbed a hold of the person’s arm and yanked it back, bringing the intruder’s attention to him. Glowing eyes - no - a singular glowing yellow eye peaked out from behind the thick bangs and narrowed at the site of him. 

“Did you do this to him?” The stranger asked, his voice carrying a dangerous tone that sent a shiver up Tommy’s spine. Tommy suddenly became very aware of the fact he was in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans threatening a man who had been proven to be a deadly wielder of kitchen utensils. 

“Of course not,” Tommy answered, loosening the hold on the other’s arm. “He came patchworked, you’re the one that bonked him over the head. Do you have memory problems too?” 

A small noise escaped the man, something that sounded almost like a whimper, and then he was crouched over Ranboo, the frying pan forgotten at his feet. His hands stayed hovering over Ranboo’s body, almost as if he was afraid to make contact, as if he was afraid he wouldn’t make contact. 

An excited squeal came from the hall and Tommy whipped around to find Micheal standing at the doorway, clutching the chicken covered blanket in his hands. Tears leaked from his eye and in a flash the stranger was in front of him scooping the child into his arms with a cry. 

Tommy took a defensive step forward, ready to fight whoever this bastard was if needed, but stopped when he saw the two. Micheal had buried his face into the other's shoulder, loud sobs shaking his small frame. The man had his arms wrapped desperately around the kid's body, whispering reassurances and prayers to something called a prime into the pink head. The scene reminded Tommy of his time in the flower field, that same relieved euphoria coming from another odd looking individual. 

The glint of a gold ring caught Tommy’s eye and his breathing stopped. That ring looked a lot like…

Tommy shot a look over to where Ranboo lay dazed on the ground, a familiar gold still hanging from the bit of string around his neck. 

The kid… and now the ring…

This was Ranboo’s husband. The one that called him ‘boo’ when he wanted something and who’s smile brought joy to the poor amnesiac. Tommy had been able to deliver on his promise after all. 

Now if only the dumbass would wake up, then he really would’ve kept his promise. 

“How…” A small voice, much different than that terrifying growl from before, sounded behind him and Tommy turned to look at the reunited family. The person’s hair was brushed out of his face and Tommy could see a patchwork of twisting, snarled scar tissue covering the right side of his face. What little was left of his eye was a mix of milky white and cloudy pink. The other eye, the one Tommy focused on, was neon yellow surrounding a horizontal bar of an iris. There were starbursts of scar tissue flecked around this side of his face and Tommy idly wondered what had happened to him to have caused such damage. 

Damage that was shiny with thick trails of tears as the man looked at Tommy with such open, raw, hope that it sent Tommy mentally spiraling. That was the look of a person who had lost everything and was struggling to live with the fact that he was sure it wasn’t going to return. This teen, who from what Tommy could tell wasn’t much older than him, had kept everything exactly as it was. A perfect snapshot to happier times…

And it reminded Tommy painfully of Phil. It reminded Tommy of the cleanest room in his house that hadn’t been moved in anyway for years. If only Phil could’ve had this reunion, would things have been different? 

Tommy shook his head. It didn’t matter now. He was here and he was watching a son reunite with his parents. Something that they probably wanted done privately…

A surprisingly warm metal arm latched onto his wrist and pulled the blonde into a tight hug, Micheal’s arms quickly joining around his shoulders. A few hot tears soaked into his shirt followed by dozens of hushed thank yous. Tommy wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. He hadn’t done anything. He’d just found them and let them tag along in his wandering. It wasn’t like he’d successfully guided them out of a dangerous situation, Ranboo had been in a flower field for fucks sake!

And yet when the newbie pulled away from him, Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to correct him. He couldn’t be the one to extinguish that shining spark of life in his eyes, not when he had spent the last two years fighting for it to show up in Phil’s. 

A soft groan cut off Tommy’s spiraling thoughts and he turned to see Ranboo slowly sitting himself up with a pale hand against his still leaking forehead. 

Mismatched eyes blinked into focus and lifted to look at the trio standing too close for any reasonable stranger to consider normal. His eyebrows furrowed in that confused recognition, what seemed to be his permanent expression if you asked Tommy, as he looked over the owner of that deadly frying pan. 

Micheal was shoved into Tommy’s arms as the brunette approached Ranboo, each step calm and careful, as if he were approaching a cornered animal. 

“Hey bossman,” he said, voice incredibly soft, hauntingly slow, “Do you remember anything?” 

“I…” Ranboo’s hand dropped from his forehead and started tugging at the ring, almost absentmindedly. “I know this place.”

The other’s face spread into a wide, beaming grin, a few new tears slipping down his cheek. Ranboo’s entire face lit up at the sight of the smile and he threw himself at the brunette with a cry. 

“Tubbo! Tubbo! I found you! I found Tubbo!” Ranboo sobbed, lanky arms wrapping around the smaller’s waist. “I missed you! I found you! I remember! Tubbo!” 

Micheal wriggled from Tommy’s arms and joined the group hug on the kitchen floor. 

It was a beautiful sight, and Tommy did feel happy for them, it just also felt like he was viewing a very private moment. 

With that in mind, the blonde turned on his heel and wandered back down the hallway, stopping to notice a family portrait hung carefully on the wall. 

The people in the photo were different from the people in the room behind him. For one thing, Micheal was wearing clean clothes with a yellow bee stitched onto the front of the shirt. Tubbo had his hands resting on the kid’s shoulders and his face wasn’t covered with bangs, his horns barely poking out of the curly mop on top of his head. 

Ranboo took the cake though. 

In the photo there wasn’t a single trace of messy stitchwork on him. His multicolored hair hung in short waves and was filled with braids decorated with obviously handmade beads. His smile did still stretch to his ears, but it seemed less jagged and more like an easy smile than a manic grin. He was dressed in a three piece suit, the remains of it Tommy could still see on him today, but the ring was missing. 

In fact, it was missing from Tubbo’s finger too. 

Tommy looked over the paintings before coming to a horrifying realization. 

At the base of Tubbo’s horn was a shiny golden ring. There was a matching one on two tall horns sticking out of Ranboo’s hair, easily adding another six inches to the already incredibly tall man. 

Tommy thought back to Micheal brushing his hands over the top of Ranboo’s head and looking at it in confusion. 

The Ranboo Tommy knew did not have horns. 

Tommy stumbled back a step and put a bracing hand against the wall, taking deep breaths in through his nose to try to keep down the urge to be sick. 

His desperation, his confusion, the way he held himself at an odd angle, as if he was missing a crucial weight to the front of him… Tommy had stumbled upon a broken man. 

He couldn’t even begin to understand why anyone would do something so horribly cruel to someone who seemed so nice, who had a family.

Family. 

He wondered how his family was doing. 

Was Wilbur still at home? 

Was Phil eating okay? 

Did they miss him? 

Did he miss them ?

No, what kind of question was that? Of course he missed them. He just… wasn’t quite sure where he was. Wasn’t quite sure how he was going to get back. He thought of how strange looking the people in the next room were. He obviously wasn’t on Earth anymore. The last thing he remembered was the storm… he had been running and something had hit him and then… nothing. 

Was he dead? Could Tommy even get back to his family? If he was dead, did that mean Kristin was here? If so, why hadn’t he seen her yet? Maybe this was a different afterlife? 

His brain hurt and Tommy found himself sitting on the couch. There were too many questions, and he had zero answers. It’s not like he could’ve asked the amnesiac what was happening, and Micheal - while adorable - was completely useless when it came to communicating complex things. Plus he hardly thought a baby would be able to explain to him what this world was. 

How long had he been gone? It must’ve been at least a day, but did time even work the same here? What if, if he ever got back, it had been years? What if he had no one left when he got home? What if he never got home? The last interaction he’d had with his family had been running away from them, that couldn’t be it. That couldn’t be the end of it. It… it couldn’t. He couldn’t just leave them like that, it wouldn’t be fair to them. 

He hadn’t even said goodbye. 

“Tommy?” 

Tommy looked up, seeing Ranboo standing in the doorway. He looked much cleaner now, the blood and dirt had been washed away, he was wearing clean pjs, and his damp hair hung in his face. 

“Hey Ranboo, you’re looking much better,” Tommy said, offering up a small smile in spite of his swirling mind. 

“Yeah… yeah Tubbo helped me clean up,” Ranboo shifted from side to side, holding a leather bound book in his hand. “Can I… do you mind if I sit? With you?” 

“Yeah sure man go ahead,” Tommy scooted over, Ranboo quick to join him on the couch. 

The two sat in silence, Tommy staring at the glowing embers in the fireplace and Ranboo reading through the book with quiet hums of thought. 

It was nice. Tommy usually wasn’t one for silence, it reminded him too much of the bad days, but this was nice. It was comfortable. He could break it at a moment’s notice if need be and not feel like he was ruining something. 

A few minutes later, Tubbo poked his head around the corner and smiled at the sight of Ranboo on the couch. He crossed the room, stopping in front of Ranboo and simply looked at him, as if he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing was real. 

Ranboo looked up, a small smile spreading on his face at the sight of Tubbo in front of him. He pointed at something in the journal, and Tommy caught a flash of a brightly colored drawing of four people holding hands. 

The two leaned closer, lightly talking excitedly about things that were contained in the pages of a book with thick letters spelling DO NOT READ all over the front in a messy scrawl. It felt heavily personal and Tommy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was intruding on something not meant for public view, and it reminded him just how alone he was. He had no clue where he was, how he got here, or what he had left behind. And he was so, incredibly scared . 

Tubbo looked over, seeming to remember Tommy’s existence, and quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“So big man,” he started. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around anywhere. What hole did you crawl out of?”

“Uh, the sky? I woke up here a bit ago to back pain and Micheal in my face and have just been wandering around since then.” 

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. In an instant, the couple’s faces fell and a look of terror passed between them. Ranboo started frantically flipping through his book, muttering something about a ‘Karl’. 

“You mean you showed up from somewhere else?” Tubbo asked, voice shaky and slow. He looked at Tommy with pleading eyes and Tommy was starting to feel very unsafe in the once cozy living room. He found himself sending quick glances to the window and weighing the odds of surviving the growing storm. 

“I mean, people don’t look quite as quirky as you guys where I’m from. There’s definitely no pig children… probably.” Tommy joked, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t seem to be working. “What’s wrong guys? Why do you look like I just told you I’m dying?” 

“Because if you’re not from around here, then He will be coming for you.” Tubbo said, sending a concerned look towards Ranboo, who’d stopped turning pages. Ranboo was still, so still Tommy wondered if he was even breathing, eyes locked onto the pages spread open on his lap. It was blank save for a large smiley face drawn crudely against the two pages. The simple drawing sent a chill down Tommy’s spine and he felt the urge to look behind him, that something was watching him. 

Tubbo swiped the book out of Ranboo’s hands and threw it across the room, immediately kneeling in front of the other. Tubbo’s hands cupped Ranboo’s cheeks and brought his forehead down till they were face to face. Ranboo’s breathing had started to pick up and what sounded like radio static was echoing in the room. What was once red and green were now replaced with a swirling purple, his body seeming to blur around the edges. 

“Ranboo, my beloved, hey,” Tubbo said, his own voice shaking. “You need to come back to me boo.” 

A high whine ripped out of his throat and Tommy found himself looking for the blanket Micheal had snuggled in earlier. 

“Ranboo breathe,” Tubbo’s voice was starting to crack.

Tommy’s hands landed on the soft fabric of a blanket and he quickly threw it around the other, leaving one hand on the shoulder. “Hey Ranboo? Can you hear me?” 

A small nod. 

“Alright Ranboo, try to follow my breathing okay? I know you can do it,” Slowly, ever so slowly, Tommy reached for Ranboo’s hand and gently placed it on his own chest. “Tubbo, can you talk to him?” 

“About what?” 

“Just reassure him that he’s safe, talk about good things,” Tommy said in between exaggerated breaths. Ranboo’s hand was icy cold against his chest. Tommy couldn’t tell if it was from the storm outside or just how Ranboo normally was. 

“Alright, Ranboo. I know you can hear me, you always hear me, so listen to me now, okay? You’re safe here. You’re in our sitting room. Micheal’s upstairs asleep and I am right here. We’re safe. You’re safe.” 

Ranboo took a shuddering breath, the swirling storm of purple starting to calm into something more still. His edges were starting to come into focus, as if he was physically becoming more present. 

“C’mon Boo,” Tubbo continued and Tommy winced at how familiar this was becoming. “Please just breathe. I know you can do it. You’ve always been annoyingly good at everything.”

Another shaky breath, this one deeper than the last. Tommy was starting to see bits of red and green. They continued like that - Tommy breathing, Tubbo talking, Ranboo surviving - for a few more minutes till the last of the purple had left his eyes and his breathing had somewhat gotten under control. 

“There we go Ranboo,” Tubbo said, thumbs rubbing against Ranboo’s scarred cheeks. “I knew you could do it.” 

The two sat there, lost in each other’s presence, and Tommy’s previous feelings of being unwelcome returned with full force. He moved his hand from its previous resting place on Ranboo’s shoulder, scooting further back into the couch. They needed some space, but he wasn’t going to wander in some dark, strange house just because his travel buddy found love .

That was until Ranboo yawned. 

It was an absolutely terrifying sight to behold. His eyes narrowed before squeezing tightly shut. His mouth spread wider than anything Tommy had seen before, the jagged edges stretching to the edges of his face. Then his jaw popped and opened even wider till all Tommy saw was this gaping black void of death lined with unnaturally white rows of disturbingly sharp teeth. 

Tubbo giggled at the sight. 

“Fuck I forgot how cute that was,” Tubbo said, moving his hands to settle on the other’s shoulders. 

“ Cute ?” Tommy gasped. “That black hole of death was not cute.” 

“That’s just how Tubbo is,” Ranboo explained. “It’s baffling to me but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Tommy gagged. “That is so sappy, what the fuck?” 

Tubbo rolled his eyes, but it didn’t seem to be in an annoyed way. If anything, the mood in the room seemed to be… happy? Comfortable? When was the last time he’d been in a room and was able to relax this much? 

“Alright.” Tubbo stood up, clapping his hands together. “Tommy, right? We are gonna help get you home.” 

“You can help me get home?” Tommy said, his voice small. There was a surge of emotions, some good, some bad. He wanted to go home, he could feel the warmth of hope in his chest at even the chance of going back. But there was this cold, restrictive feeling as well. It squeezed his heart and stopped his lungs from breathing without a hitch. 

“Of course, dude,” Tubbo shrugged. “You helped us get back to our home, we should return the favor. Plus, this family was founded on random adventures. It’s in our blood.” 

Tommy didn’t know what to say, so he resorted to his default, “Pog.” 

Ranboo burst out laughing, head tilted back as his body shook. Tubbo tried to keep a straight face, but followed soon after him leaving Tommy to stare at the both of them, confused by their reaction. 

“I’m sorry, it’s mean to laugh,” Ranboo said, wiping nonexistent tears from his eyes in habit. “Just, this super serious statement and then just a ‘pog’ it’s just too funny. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t sound too sorry to me,” Tommy grumbled. 

“No, no I am,” Ranboo said, taking a deep breath, calming himself down while Tubbo just kept laughing away. “Look, we’re all tired. It’s been one hell of a day. We’ll show you the guest room and then we can plan out the rest of it in the morning, yeah?”

“Yeah, I have a year of missing my husband to make up for tonight,” Tubbo said, leaning against Ranboo’s shoulder. 

Ranboo flushed a bright purple, “Tubbo! Stop! No!” he stammered, shoving his face in his hands. “He doesn’t mean it like that. He doesn’t mean it like that at all.” 

“Hey, whatever you guys do behind doors is up to you, just keep me out of it.” Tommy teased, putting his hands up and shaking his head. “Also I do need my beauty rest so try to keep it down.” 

“Stop!” Ranboo groaned, his ears twitching in annoyance as they too turned a bright shade of purple. 

Tubbo was cackling, leaning against Ranboo with tears in his eyes. Despite Ranboo’s whining, he was leaning into the other, his head resting against Tubbo’s arm. 

They really did seem like a happy family. 

A sharp pang in his chest pulled Tommy out of the moment. He stood up, catching the attention of the two lovebirds who were now lightly giggling against each other. 

“I’m absolutely exhausted,” Tommy said, putting all his confidence forward in one big push. “Where did you say that room was?” 

The room was small, but not tiny. It had little to no decoration on the wooden walls, but it didn’t feel empty. The mattress definitely hadn’t been used in ages, but the blue blankets were soft and comfortably heavy. The window showed a raging snowstorm outside, frost creating intricate patterns on the glass, but inside, Tommy was warm. 

He took a deep breath, his swirling thoughts coming to a crawl. His eyes slid closed, the events of the day catching up with him, and he fell asleep. 

Outside the snow stopped, replaced with a clear night sky. The stars whispered amongst themselves as they watched a new player enter their server.