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Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. The lava burn on Wilbur’s leg rages, the same way it has for… Lord knows how long. Time moved so strangely in the Nether, and he was in and out of consciousness while Tommy and Quackity did their best to drag him across the wasteland. Whether it’s been minutes or days, he can hardly think straight. Nothing more than breathe in, breathe out.
The only thing he knows for sure is that they’re out now. A conveniently placed Nether portal, after what felt like weeks of wandering the unending heat, was their salvation. Wilbur feels no safer with his leg burning him up in the Overworld than he did the Nether. He’s sure by now it has to be infected. How long does it take for a burn to get infected?
“Do you think they’re watching right now?” Tommy wonders from his place on a fallen log in front of a long put-out fire. Wilbur makes a tired noise but doesn’t bother answering the question. Considering his brain is mostly ow and breathe , he figures Quackity can take this one.
From his right, close enough to see but not to touch, Quackity says, “It’s the middle of the night, Tommy. If they’re not asleep, they’re paying attention to the only guy talking.”
“Ugh!” Tommy complains, stabbing at the dirt in front of him with a stick. Wilbur has his eyes closed, but he can imagine the furrow to Tommy’s bushy eyebrows. “It sucks, yeah? That we can’t, like, talk?”
It takes Wilbur a little farther from the repetitive thoughts of, ow, ow, this fucking hurts, ow . He opens his eyes to meet Tommy’s. He can hardly see them in the darkness, but he can see the downward curve of his mouth. Wilbur asks, “What do you mean?”
“Like, we can talk, right? But if I started sayin’ shit like, Hypixel are cruel, vicious assholes who like to watch kids get skewered for their own sick-”
Wilbur feels a jolt of fear up his spine as he interrupts with just, “Tommy.” It’s less an interruption and more a warning. Quackity’s eyes widen, skirting to Wilbur in his nerves. Tommy scoffs at their reactions, as if it isn’t exactly what he was expecting. If Wilbur were thinking clearly, he wouldn’t have given Tommy the chance to mouth off at Hypixel at all. Wilbur feels like he’s hardly fighting the other tributes at this point, just keeping Tommy from being blown off the map by Hypixel personally.
It’s like Tommy doesn’t understand why the Admins attacked them with fucking lava rain, leaving Wilbur in this state. It’s like Tommy doesn’t understand why the Admins sent an earthquake to split the earth and separate them from Niki and Tubbo. It’s like Tommy doesn’t understand a Goddamn thing about how the games are played at all.
“Can’t say that, now can I?” Tommy asks with mocking distaste. He tosses his stick at the dead fire. “Can’t say how sorry I am that Big Q lost his fiance ‘cause he’s got a new role to play, right? Can’t say how fucked it is that Sapnap’s dad was proud of him for volunteering ‘cause then someone might think that I’m ungrateful, yeah? Can’t say all that because the people I love could be in danger for it, isn’t that right?” Tommy’s voice raises, a feat considering how loud he already is, to yell, “Well everyone I love is already in danger! They’re here! And I can’t fucking talk to them!”
Wilbur meets Quackity’s nervous eyes. The fire he remembers during the interviews, during the training room, has been stamped out. Wilbur imagines Quackity finds the same disappointing lack of flame in his own. The only light that remains in either of them comes from the angry 15 year old just begging to be heard, who so desperately strikes that match, over and over, to spark their flame. Thinking that Tommy doesn’t understand the game or how it’s played is unfair. He understands just fine. He just hates it, the way they all do, but with a passion so brazen Wilbur doesn’t know if the wound on his leg or Tommy’s angry gaze burns more.
Wilbur is aware that a thousand eyes could be on them right now. Middle of the night or not, some people just can’t keep their eyes off the games. He’s aware that XD is keeping tabs on every conversation they have. Probably making a special note of Tommy, vocally anti-Hypixel as he is. Wilbur is more than fucking aware that sponsors and living through these fucking games hinge on what he says next. The problem is that he doesn’t know what to say. He should tell Tommy to be quiet. To keep himself alive rather than honorable. But the words just don’t come out.
Wilbur is almost grateful when Quackity asks, “You know what keeps fucking me up?” It’s dangerous. It’s a road that leads to nothing but pain, nothing but another rain of lava from the heavens. Wilbur doesn’t interrupt. “I don’t even know who killed him. I have no fucking clue who killed Schlatt, and unless I win I’ll never know. I don’t even know if I want to know.” Wilbur knows. As Wilbur and Tommy ran from the bloodbath, he watched Schlatt get an axe to the head.
“I think it was, uh,” Wilbur frowns as he tries to recall. It gives Quackity plenty of time to interrupt him, in case he really doesn’t want to know, but Quackity just faces him fully. “One of the careers from 2.”
“Sapnap?” Quackity asks, something bordering on horrified. Wilbur really doesn’t think he ought to be that upset about it. He remembers seeing Schlatt try to position Quackity to take the blow of the axe before it met his head.
“Not Sapnap.”
Tommy says, “That’s Punz.”
“Punz,” Wilbur says the name with a snap of his fingers. “It was Punz, I saw him sink an axe in Schlatt’s head.” Tommy shoots him a look, as if Wilbur is the one with poor social skills here. Quackity looks more thoughtful than upset, now, though.
“He’s dead now too,” Quackity says. Something too angry to be a laugh tumbles out of his mouth. “Can’t even- wow! How the fuck do I get mad at a dead guy?”
“Oh, it’s easy!” Tommy says. “Real easy, like, whenever I think about the ass who invented these games in the first place, I get proper pissed.” It still brings a fearful jolt to Wilbur but he can’t help but smile. He ducks his head to try and hide it, but he’s sure the cameras already caught it. Quackity laughs again, not as angry as before. Still angry, though.
After a few moments of silence, of basking in the closest thing to a real conversation as they’ve been allowed to have, Quackity says, “I’m glad it wasn’t Sapnap.” Wilbur thinks that’s a strange thing to say. He remembers Quackity and Sapnap interacting a few times in the training room, but he doesn’t remember Quackity making a big splash with the Careers. Wilbur supposes he was distracted trying to get L’manburg together, and Tommy nods as if he agrees with Quackity, so Wilbur probably just missed something. Wilbur doesn’t have any thoughts on Sapnap other than he’s got a better chance at winning this thing than Wilbur does.
An hour later, Quackity is asleep. He isn’t too far that Wilbur can’t make out his outline, but he is far enough not to wake if Wilbur speaks low. Tommy has his stick again and is drawing things Wilbur can’t make out in the dark. Wilbur says, “You should rest.” Tommy’s meant to be on watch but Wilbur can’t keep his eyes shut. No point in making Tommy suffer if Wilbur already is.
“No, you.”
“I can’t,” Wilbur complains. He lightly taps a non-burnt area of his bad leg and still flinches from the pain. “Leg hurts too bad. One of us should be useful in the morning.”
“Big Q can do it.”
“He certainly can’t.” It gets a laugh out of Tommy. The two of them sit there, Tommy with eyes on his drawings and Wilbur with his on the sky. Wilbur wonders if the stars are even real or just another mirage of Hypixel’s. Maybe that’s silly.
“You guys could go, y’know,” Tommy says suddenly. “I get it, right? Techno even said it. I’m not good for sponsors and shit. Big Q’s good at- at the whole, like, likeability thing. And you’ve got the whole leader, hero-type thing people don’t bet on but they do like . You two could probably play ‘em ‘til the end. I know I’m- I don’t want you to go but I’d fuckin’ get it, alright? Survival and all.”
Wilbur can’t say he hasn’t considered Tommy a liability. His probably-infected leg is more than proof that Tommy’s big mouth gets them in some shit spots. The first thing Tommy did in these games was disobey an order and make Wilbur storm the cornucopia to find him, risking both of their lives. But Wilbur can say with certainty he hasn’t entertained the idea of leaving Tommy behind since before they got separated from Tubbo and Niki. If he’s honest, he doesn’t know if he’s considered it since the training room, when Technoblade told him making a team with Tommy on it was asking to get targeted, by tributes and Hypixel alike. But Tommy’s a good kid, and he’s loyal, and at the center of it all, Wilbur just… cares about him. That, above everything else, is likely to get him killed.
“I wouldn’t be much of a leader, hero-type if I left, would I?” Wilbur tries for playful. Make it all a joke, rather than a heartfelt rejection of Tommy’s attempt at sacrifice. Tommy lets out a little laugh but ultimately frowns. Wilbur does too. He wishes things were different. He admires Tommy’s ability to be himself even with the entire world begging him to do otherwise. Even with the people he cares about doing the same. Because being yourself gets you fucking killed. Wilbur has the luxury that himself is a coward as well.
In the pitch black of night, where he can barely see Tommy except for the frown on his face and his stick poking at the dirt in rough, angry movements, Wilbur can almost play the role Tommy thinks he does. “I don’t want to leave, Tommy. Big Q can make his own decisions, but I don’t think he does either.” Quackity’s reasoning is mostly based on survival, but Wilbur would have to be stupid to think that Quackity doesn’t care about Tommy as well. “I know that things aren’t fair. I know they are fucked beyond belief, and I know that tomorrow- tomorrow, well… Tomorrow I could watch you die.” His voice threatens to break a little at the end there. It threatens to break a lot, actually.
Wilbur has come to terms with the fact that there are people he cares about in this death game outside of Niki, his best friend since they were too young to even conceptualize the games, no matter how dangerous that is to feel. He’s also come to terms with the fact that the people he cares about may die, that they have a very high chance of dying, even. But at the end of the day, it’s him or them. They all have to die for him to live, and to see his home, his father again, he will have to accept that. He just doesn’t know if he can with Tommy.
Sincerely, as if they do not only know each other for the simple fact that they are meant to kill each other, Wilbur says, “But I’m very glad I met you.” Tommy’s face contorts. Devastation like he wants to curse every god in the sky, like he wants to scream until his lungs give out, like he wants to cry like the child he is.
Tommy starts with a shout, “I just- I hate this fucking-” he takes a deep breath in. It comes out shaky. He throws his stick to the ground again and pushes off the fallen log. Wilbur thinks he’s going to take a moment to himself, perhaps to actually scream or cry or just get a moment of rest in these Godforsaken games. Instead, he walks over to the tree Wilbur sits against and plops down right next to him. Tommy hits his bad leg just a little on the way down and Wilbur hisses. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Wilbur says, voice tight with pain. It’s theirs, is left unsaid. Tommy would say it if it were him. Wilbur just wants Tommy to know he doesn’t blame him. For any of it. Maybe Tommy should keep a little quieter about how much he hates Hypixel. Maybe Hypixel shouldn’t have dragged a 15 year old to a fucking murder game.
In a voice shaking with rage, Tommy says, “It’s just not fair, y’know? ‘Cause- ‘cause I mean, everyone here has someone out there when they win. Everyone but me. And I didn’t- it didn’t matter before. I mean, I’ve got Henry, and I’ve- people don’t hate me back home, alright? I mean, I’ve even- me and Sam, I mean, we’ve bonded and all. But now, Wil, I mean- I’ve got people now. I’ve got you . They gave me you and Tubbo and Quackity and- and-” Tommy lets out another shaky breath. “And now I’ve got to kill you.”
He sounds so lost. Anguish and anger and love that he can’t comprehend. Wilbur remembers watching the games growing up. He remembers watching friendships form and how in the end it hardly mattered. One of them always died. By the other’s hand or someone else’s. Wilbur thinks he could kill someone. He knows that he’s got the survival instinct to fight back, now. Before Tommy stuck a knife in George’s throat, Wilbur had his arrow aimed true to make sure he came out of that fight alive. He considers how much he wants to live. He considers how badly he wants Tommy to. It’s not much consideration at this point.
“Have you ever had a cow you loved and had to kill?” Wilbur asks. He knows of Henry. He knows of the cow, too old to milk anymore, that was going to be put down and used for meat, and Tommy biting anyone who dared to try. Tommy shifts beside him, unable to sit still for more than a minute.
“When I was young, yeah,” Tommy answers, sounding a bit confused. “When I didn’t realize I could just threaten to beat the shit out of people and save ‘em. They don’t, uh, they don’t really let me work with the cows anymore,” he admits with a grin too wide to be bashful. Wilbur laughs.
“Well. Imagine you're young again,” Wilbur says as if Tommy is not 15 fucking years old. Not the youngest in these death games, no, Michael has them all beat, but Tommy is still far, far too young for this. At 18, Wilbur thinks he is too. “You can’t beat the shit out of anyone to save me. And when I’m milked for all I’m worth, you might have to be the one to put me down.” Tommy scratches at his pants, antsy and angry, and Wilbur feels him shaking beside him.
“Fuck you,” Tommy says in a harsh, angry whisper that is hardly a whisper at all. “Fuck you, Wil. If it came down to you and me-”
“If it came down to you and me, I’d eat a netherberry and let it be done. Not very good television, but that’s the way you’d like it, right? A bit of a fuck you to Hypixel?” He tries to say it in a way that doesn’t make it clear he feels exactly the same way. He does, though. Wilbur would love a good fuck you to Hypixel. He and Niki have whispered such things to each other, in small moments they knew without a doubt they were safe from retribution.
Tommy half-laughs, a sad, wet sound. “I won’t fucking let you.”
“I won’t give you the chance to stop me.” He realizes how this may come across, to both Tommy and the viewers. He amends his words with, “I don’t want to die, Tommy. I just want you to die less.” Wilbur wants to live enough that he is willing to kill someone. He wants Tommy to live enough to die for him. He wonders what he would do if it came down to him, Tommy, and Niki. He decides he doesn’t want to think about that. He decides to think about something else.
“Do you know about the stars?” Wilbur asks. He hardly does. Bits and pieces he’s picked up from Technoblade over the years. It’s all he can think of to change the subject though.
“Tubbo told me a bit,” Tommy says. “Like- not much, though. He got too excited and started ramblin’ about how much fucking energy is in a star and I didn’t know what the fuck was going on after that.” Wilbur can’t help but laugh. He misses Tubbo. Whereas Tommy is a raging fire, Tubbo is a crackle of electricity. He desperately hopes the two of them get to see each other again. Once, at least, before the end. He hopes it isn’t the moment one of them has to die.
“They’re rather lovely here. Hard to see on my server. Fumes from the coal and all,” Wilbur explains.
“Saw ‘em just fine on my server,” Tommy complains as he looks up at the sky. “Lot better in the field. Get to lay with Henry and make my own stories.”
“That sounds nice,” Wilbur says. It does. Laid in the grass with a friend rather than huddled up in the woods, desperately hoping the dense spruce trees will keep their position concealed.
“Yeah,” Tommy agrees, wistful, like he’s imagining being there right now. It gives Wilbur something like an idea.
“Close your eyes.”
“You gonna stab me?” Wilbur snorts. “No, ‘cause, that’s just awfully sus, Wil.”
“You gonna work with me or not?”
“Not if you’re gonna fucking stab me!”
“I’m not gonna fucking stab you, Tommy!”
“Weren’t awfully quick with that answer, now were you?” Tommy says with suspicion, but Wilbur knows it’s just for show. Without another thought, Tommy closes his eyes, because Tommy trusts Wilbur far more than he should. Wilbur could kill him. He could take the knife just beside his hand and slit Tommy’s throat. It’s what the viewers are probably expecting. It’s what Technoblade is hoping for. At home, Wilbur imagines Phil hopes much the same. It’s the smartest thing to do in a situation like this. The loudmouth kid who just keeps bringing trouble, who Wilbur wouldn’t be able to overpower at any other moment.
Instead, Wilbur says, “We’re in a field.”
Tommy opens one of his eyes and questions with a furrow to his eyebrows, “What?”
“Close your eyes, man!”
“Fine, fine, jeez!” Tommy screws his eyes shut.
“We’re in a field,” Wilbur repeats. “A field in on your server, leaning against Henry in a grassy field. The sky is shining with stars. No fog, no clouds to mask them.” He keeps his eyes on the woods around him. Only one of them can afford this luxury of pretend. “Tubbo is sat right beside you, and Niki’s sat right beside me, and Quackity’s laying on top of the cow because he refused to risk sitting in cow shit,” Tommy barks a laugh. Wilbur smiles. “Wind’s blowing just enough to move the grass, but it’s not too cold. The air is warm, so it cools us down just enough to be nice. It’s nice enough to lay there for hours, even, just enjoying the stars and each others company.”
“You and Big Q are enjoying each others company?”
“Well, I haven’t tripped him in cow shit yet.” Tommy laughs again, a little too loud, just the way he always does. Quackity stirs but does not wake. That’ll get him killed someday. “Tubbo’s telling us about the stars, but all the wrong things because he assumes we’ll know the basics. Niki cuts in with a few stories she learned from Technoblade, and I’m making up fake ones to bug Tubbo into correcting me.”
“I’ve got to cut in too, let the people know what’s really up there,” Tommy says, eyes still closed but his face no longer scrunched up. He looks relaxed, like he really is in that field instead of scared and vulnerable in the middle of the woods. “You heard of Your Mum and Mike Hawk? Star-crossed lovers, they are.”
“Y’know, I don’t think I know that one,” Wilbur says, amused.
“‘Cause you’re simply not one with the stars like I am, Wilbur.”
“Clearly not.” He lets the silence carry. Tommy miles away in a field with everyone he cares about, and Wilbur grounded to reality in a death game with two of the people he loves most, his best friend since childhood and a prickly teenager he’s known hardly anytime at all but has managed to worm his way far too easily into Wilbur’s heart. Tommy, of course, breaks the silence.
Sounding as young as he is, younger even, Tommy says, “I don’t want to open my eyes, Wil.” Despite everything he’s endured, today alone, this is what makes Wilbur have to dig his nails into the palm of his hands so he doesn’t cry.
“Don’t,” he says with a voice that is far too wobbly. “I’ve got it. Just keep watching the stars.” Neither of them say another word. Not long after, Wilbur feels Tommy slump against his shoulder. Thank the fucking Lord. He worried the only one of them who would get any sleep tonight was Quackity who can throw a punch as well as Wilbur, which is to say, not well at fucking all. Wilbur’s alright with a bow at least, but Tommy’s their only actual fighter.
Hours later, as Wilbur’s eyes grow heavier but is overpowered by the constant ache in his leg, the sun begins to rise in the distance and Wilbur hears… a little song? No, not a song. A hum. A metallic hum. Within the minute, a silver tube attached to a parachute falls against Wilbur’s good leg.
What the fuck? He never thought he would see one of these. How in the world has he actually got a sponsor? He’s almost worried it’s a bomb of some sort. Hypixel hates Tommy enough that Wilbur wouldn’t be surprised, but it opens to Wilbur’s touch and nothing explodes. A little note flutters out.
You’re a good influence on him. Keep it up. -T.B.
Wilbur frowns at the note. He… really hadn’t done much to stop Tommy’s tirade against Hypixel today. He actually sort of encouraged it at times. He sets the note on his good leg and looks inside the canister to assess what actually matters. It’s ointment. Oh, thank the fucking Lord. Wilbur doesn’t waste any time before lathering his fingers in it and digging into the wound on his leg. It hurts, so fucking bad, but he tries to keep his pain nothing more than heavy breathing and the occasional whispered, “Fuck,” as to not wake Tommy. He’ll have to soon anyway, with the day breaking and the need to move always imminent, but for now he just wants to let Tommy rest. Maybe by the time he has to wake them both up, Wilbur will actually be well enough to walk at a steady pace. He can already feel the ointment taking effect. He lets out a desperate sigh of relief. He knows his death isn’t unlikely, but God would it suck to die now . Infection of all things.
With the ointment used, Wilbur moves his thoughts back to the note. The more he thinks about it, the more the pain clears from his leg and mind, it is obvious what Technoblade means. Wilbur is not a good influence on Tommy in the sense of getting him to stop acting out, but in the sense that he has made him look better in the eyes of the viewers. He has made Tommy more likable by showing him kindness. He has made Tommy more likable by virtue of the fact that people like Wilbur and now they know, for better or worse, that he genuinely likes Tommy.
He crushes the note in his hand. He hates Technoblade a little in this moment. He hates the people of Hypixel more than he thinks he ever has. Tommy’s survival should not hinge on how much Wilbur fucking cares about him. He hates that any genuine relationship he builds here is just to keep them alive another day. Any moment they share isn’t theirs. And by the very nature of the games, they will never have a moment that is.
Despite the anger, it won’t stop Wilbur from caring. If there is one fucking thing he can do before he dies, it is give Tommy something to hold onto. It is to give Tommy a fighting chance. It is to give Tommy the possibility of seeing his cow, his server, the stars in the safety of a field again. Wilbur hopes against all hope that Tommy is the same kid going out that was going in.