Work Text:
Tubbo met his uncle Phil for the first time when he was ten years old.
It was another of his daddy’s parties, so he was allowed to stay up late, dressed in a suit and tie and paraded around to meet various ambassadors and dignitaries. His eyelids were heavy with sleep but he forced them open - he didn’t want to be an embarrassment - and smiled at Mr Whoever, shook Mrs Whatever’s cold hand and wished he was allowed back downstairs to his bedroom, back to his journal where he could write everything down, in the pages, so it couldn’t make him feel all… small anymore.
And then he met his uncle.
He was sitting on the sofa by one of the large windows, blinking back sleep and trying to look alert, when a man sat beside him. He looked weird, a little out of place - blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and a wearing funny-looking, slightly rumpled, green suit with patches on the elbows.
Tubbo straightened and smiled politely. “Hello, sir.”
The man chuckled and held out his hand. “Call me Phil. Do you remember me Tubbo?”
Tubbo tilted his head, confused. How did this man know his name already? “Uh - f-from where sir?”
“Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t,” the man smiled. “The last time I saw you, you were just a baby. I’m your uncle, Tubbo.”
Tubbo blinked. “My - my uncle?"
Phil nodded. “That’s right! Your dad’s brother.”
Tubbo frowned at him - he knew what an uncle was! He wasn’t a baby! “I know that. I just - why haven’t I ever met you before?”
Phil shrugged. “Well… your father and I don’t really get along. But he’s running for mayor and he needs the family - or, what’s left of us - to present a united front-”
“A… united front?” Tubbo mumbled to himself in confusion.
“We need to look strong,” Phil explained at once.
Tubbo stared at him. He answered me? “O-oh?”
“Yeah,” Phil said, carrying on as though Tubbo had never interrupted him - as though his question wasn’t the inconvenience it obviously was. “Yeah, so even though we don’t exactly get on I thought I’d do this for him. Plus, it gave me a chance to see you again.”
Tubbo squinted. “Me?”
No one ever wants to see me. I - I’m just a prop, dad’s accessory…
“Yeah, you kiddo. What’ve you been up to lately?”
“I - well, I, uh, I w-was playing?”
“Oh? With what?”
Tubbo grinned excitedly. “With my cars! I- D-Daddy bought me two more, so now I have five and there’s a red one and a blue one and a green one…”
The man raised his eyebrows. “Green?”
“Yeah! Two green ones. I love green!”
“Me too,” Phil agreed enthusiastically. “Green’s my favourite colour.”
Tubbo bounced on his seat. “Mine too!” He frowned. “The darker one is mine. You can have the sports car.”
Phil laughed and nodded. “I’ll accept that.”
Tubbo beamed. It wasn’t often anyone bothered to listen to him when he talked about his interests - they just didn’t care. His daddy always came back home from work and proceeded to ignore him - the penthouse was so big it was easy for him to avoid his son if he wanted to.
And that was fine! Really! Tubbo was used to it. He knew he could be a bit… much sometimes. He knew that he was… a lot. That was why he stayed in his bedroom all day, out of the way of his daddy and the housekeeper that came on Tuesdays, and the repairman that came on Sundays to fix whatever Daddy had smashed on Saturday…
Tubbo swallowed, shrinking back a little. Phil had been nice, but he shouldn’t push his luck. He - he shouldn’t annoy the man too much.
“Tubbo? Are you bothering this man?” a voice said, speaking his thoughts aloud.
Tubbo hung his head. He was sorry - he was just so excited to have someone listen to him at last…
“Not at all,” Phil said pleasantly. “He was keeping me very entertained.”
Tubbo lifted his head in time to see his dad’s face go all… sharp . “Oh. Phil.”
“Schlatt,” Phil said evenly. “How’re you?”
“Fine,” Daddy said, tone clipped. “Tubbo don’t - come here.” Tubbo got up and trotted obediently to his dad’s side. “Good boy.”
Tubbo smiled to himself. Good! He was being good!
“Thanks for inviting me,” Phil smiled. “It was good to see you both.”
“Mhm. Well. I’ll see you around,” Daddy said harshly, turning around. Tubbo shot Phil one last smile before following him.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Daddy bent down, something dark entering his expression. Tubbo shrank away unconsciously.
“You stay away from that man,” his dad hissed. “Understand me?”
“Wh-wh-why?” Tubbo whispered. He didn’t understand… he was so nice to me…
“You don’t need to know why,” his dad spat. “You just need to listen.”
Tubbo flinched away from his anger but nodded hastily. “Y-y-yes D-Daddy.”
Daddy made a funny sort of grimace and drew himself back up. “Come along. It’s a few hours until midnight yet.”
Tubbo swallowed down a yawn and plastered a smile on his face.
---<>---
Tubbo saw Phil a few more times after that - at various functions, where the blonde ponytail and kind smile sent a rush of relief into the boy’s heart - and occasionally when he was on his way home from school. Apparently the man’s son - his cousin, really - went to the same place, albeit in a different class. Tubbo really wanted to meet him - maybe even be friends with him - if he wasn’t so sure his dad would disapprove.
It wasn’t until he was twelve and got his own phone that things began to change.
Tubbo didn’t much like art galleries - they weren’t really his thing. But he had allowed his dad to drag him along… not that he had much of a choice, but it made him feel better to pretend that he did… in hopes that his uncle would be there.
Sure enough, he was, still in the same suit - even though everyone around him was wearing clothes that looked good as new - or actually were new. He looked as out of place as ever.
Tubbo didn’t care. “Uncle Phil!”
Phil smiled broadly. “Tubbo! How’s my favourite nephew?”
“I’m your only nephew,” Tubbo giggled.
“And you’re my favourite!”
“By that logic, I’m also your least favourite!”
Phil shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. You can’t be both the most and least favourite.”
“You can’t?”
“No, definitely not,” Phil said decidedly. “You’re my favourite, forever.”
Tubbo blushed scarlet and hid it by looking down to pull out his phone and unlock it. “I - I got a phone!”
“So you did,” Phil smiled. “Green case?”
“Of course.”
“I like it.”
Tubbo flushed even redder and thrust the device towards him. “I - I - I was w-wondering if I could get y-your number?”
Phil raised his eyebrows. “Does your dad know about this?”
Tubbo shook his head. “I - I didn’t ask. I… I don’t think he’d - I mean - I…”
Phil pursed his lips, deep in thought for a moment. Tubbo tensed. Prime, you overstepped - you assumed he wanted - you thought - you idiot -
Then - “I’d love to give you my number,” Phil said gently, taking the phone and tapping his number into it.
Tubbo let out a sigh of relief. “Th-thanks.”
Phil swallowed, handing the phone back and giving him a long look. “Tubbo?”
Tubbo found himself unable to meet his uncle’s searching gaze. “Y-yes?”
“Can I give you a hug?”
Tubbo stilled. A hug.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged. His dad certainly never had and his mother left before he knew her. He… he’d seen other kids being hugged by their parents and carers as they came out of school. Diving into their grandma’s arms after a hard day, or getting squeezed against their mum’s chest after getting a perfect score. It looked… nice. Tubbo assumed it was nice. He wouldn’t know. No matter how his day went he always got into the back of the car and the chauffeur drove him home without saying a word.
He really wanted a hug.
“Tubbo.”
Tubbo tensed up as his dad’s angry voice reached his ears. He took a step back. “I - I-”
Dad approached and Phil bit his lip. “Hi Schlatt. Sorry, I just wanted to talk to Tubbo for a moment.”
Dad raised a sceptical eyebrow. “You wanted to talk to him?”
For some reason Tubbo couldn’t understand, Phil bristled at that. “Yes, of course I did.”
“Right,” Dad said tersely. “And he agreed to talk to you?”
Tubbo didn’t - he didn’t like the way his dad was looking at Phil. As though the other man was dirty somehow. He wanted to stand up for him but his mouth felt glued shut and so he just stood there as Phil lifted his chin and lied for him. “I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Schlatt glared at him. “Well, you’d do well to stay away from my son.”
Tubbo shivered. There wasn’t any love behind those words. He - he didn’t like how they sounded in his dad’s mouth.
Phil said nothing, simply taking a step back. “My apologies.”
A hand landed heavy on Tubbo’s shoulder and he resisted the urge to flinch away. He - he knew his dad would never hit him. He knew that.
And yet, as Phil turned and walked back into the throng, he couldn’t help feeling as though he’d just been left alone in a lion’s den.
Only the weight of his phone in his suit jacket pocket reassured him that that wasn’t the case.
---<>---
After that summer Tubbo joined the big school and the classes were shuffled around - enough that he met Tommy Innit, his cousin, at long last.
They became friends faster than Tubbo could stop it and all too soon it felt like they’d been friends their whole lives. He’d never clicked that fast with somebody since - well, since Phil.
They shared everything - from lunches (because sometimes Tommy didn’t have enough, and Tubbo knew he’d have more than what he needed at home), to ideas (because the oak tree in the school field was perfect for sitting under), to test answers (because Tubbo was no good at history and Tommy was sh*t at maths).
But Tubbo never went home with Tommy, no matter how many times he was invited. He couldn’t. He - he didn’t want to make his dad suspicious - as far as he was concerned his son was a friendless straight-A student who wrote everything down in his journal and didn’t dare breathe without his permission. What would he say if he found out his son had been spending time with the son of the brother he couldn’t stand?
And what would Tommy say if Tubbo ever tried to bring him home? What would he say when he entered the penthouse with all the high ceilings and fancy technology and cold loneliness that seemed to seep into Tubbo’s core?
But when Tubbo found out about the automobile show, he couldn’t help himself. It was free, which was why Tommy was going and - c’mon, he was fifteen now, for Prime’s sake! Surely his father wouldn't mind if he left the apartment for a few hours on a Saturday afternoon?
“That’s a Honda… and that’s a Skoda Fabia - holy sh*t, that’s an antique Porsche!” Tubbo cried as the cars drove past, Tommy by his side, nodding along. “Do you know how cool this is?!”
“I’m getting a general idea,” Tommy laughed. “What about this next one?”
“Oh! That’s a - that looks like a Mercedes!” Tubbo exclaimed, bouncing on his toes.
Tommy grinned. “It looks blue.”
“It’s a blue Mercedes! It can be both!”
“And the red one behind it?”
“Might be another Porsche…” Tubbo began, but as he spoke flakes of cold snow fluttered down onto the car he was staring at. Quite a lot of snow.
Tommy grabbed his arm and Tubbo froze at the contact, even as he was being pulled backwards, under a shop’s awning. “Sh*t, it’s snowing!”
“What’s wrong with snow?!”
“Nothing’s wrong, with it,” Tommy said hurriedly. “I just don’t want to get stuck in it.” The wind picked up as he spoke, swirling snow into his face and open mouth. He spat it out. “It’s looking like a blizzard already.”
Tubbo sighed. He’d wanted to stay in this moment with Tommy forever, but he knew that was never going to happen. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday?”
Tommy blinked. “On Monday?”
Tubbo tilted his head. “Uh - yeah? At school?”
Tommy shook his head firmly and began dragging Tubbo down the street. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not walking home in that.”
“Why not?!”
“Because it’s a blizzard, and I live two blocks away. You live half an hour uphill, walking in good weather.”
“But - I -”
“No buts. You’re coming with me.”
Despite really not wanting to, Tubbo found he had to concede defeat. There was no way he could make it home in this weather, and no way he was calling the chauffeur - or a taxi, he didn’t need ‘Mayor’s Son Caught In Blizzard’ to make the headlines tomorrow. “F-f-fine.”
Tommy pulled him along the streets filled with bodies hurrying to their homes, stopping outside a block of flats and pulling a set of keys out from his pocket, jabbing them into the door and jiggling them about until they fit and they could stumble into the lobby.
Tommy marched straight past the lift. “That thing hasn’t worked in years. Come on, it’s only four floors.”
By the time they’d gotten to the top of the stairs Tubbo had resolved never to take the lift to the penthouse for granted ever again.
Tommy unlocked the door and threw it open with a loud “I’m home!”
Tubbo half expected someone to start screaming at him for the noise. Instead, a blonde head shifted, twisting around from the desk it was sat at, eyebrows lifting in pleasant surprise. “And you brought Tubbo?"
For a moment Tubbo had forgotten Tommy lived with Phil. Now it all came rushing back and he blushed shyly, shuffling his way into the small flat. “H-hi Phil.”
“Hi Tubbo,” Phil smiled. “You’re in luck. Techno just texted me to say he has to stay late tonight, so there’s enough casserole for you too.”
Techno was Phil’s adult son, along with Wilbur. They were identical twins and adults - Techno worked as a bouncer at a nightclub in Tubbo’s district and Wilbur as a cleaner in a block of flats only a few miles from Tubbo’s own. Phil was a dishwasher in a restaurant Tubbos still didn’t know the name of.
Tommy thought the world of all three of them.
So did Tubbo.
He shook his head. “Oh no, you don’t have to -”
“But I want to,” Phil smiled. “We should have had you over much earlier.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Tommy agreed, pulling off his shoes. Tubbo followed his lead. “Come on Tubs, I wanna show you my room!”
Tubbo dipped his head towards Phil first. “Th-thank you for letting me wait out the storm here…?” It came out as a question. He wasn’t sure why.
“Anytime Tubbo,” Phil said warmly. “Go on upstairs, I’ll call you down when dinner’s ready. Wilbur’s napping, so try to keep it down boys!”
“Yes Dad,” Tommy saluted, before grabbing Tubbo’s hand and tugging him up the wooden staircase and into the thinnest hallway, Tubbo had ever been in, then into a small room with a bed pushed against one corner of it, curtains drawn back to let sunlight dance across the carpeted floors.
Tubbo liked carpet. All the floors in his own home were wooden, even those in his bedroom. He wiggled his toes as Tommy showed him various books and vintage gadgets he’d picked up in charity shops. Tubbo nodded along, fascinated, even more so when Tommy hooked up their two devices and they were able to play a platform game together. It was so simple, and yet it was the most fun he’d had in ages.
“Boys! Dinner!”
Tommy switched off his contraption-Tubbo-couldn’t-remember-the-name-of and hopped up. “C’mon Tubs, food’s ready.”
Tubbo pulled himself up and followed Tommy downstairs, not sure of what to expect. At home, it was just him and his father, and neither of them really ate together. Tubbo ate when he was hungry - which wasn’t often these days, not when the thought of leaving his basement bedroom and risking the chill of his father’s presence upstairs made him want to curl into a ball on his bed and never move again.
He was greeted by Phil’s friendly face and a really tall f*cker, who was presumably Wilbur, if the way half of his hair was sticking straight up in the air was any indication. “You must be Tubbo,” the man said by way of greeting, voice slightly weighted by sleep. “N-nice to meet you.” He stifled a yawn. “Sorry.”
“D-don’t worry about it?” Tubbo said awkwardly, not used to being apologised to.
“It - it’s been a long shift,” Wilbur explained.
Phil nodded sympathetically. “Day off tomorrow?”
“Unless Suzanne texts me,” Wilbur said, lifting his head as Phil passed him the serving spoon. “I said I’d take her shift if her sister can’t watch her kids tomorrow.”
“That was good of you Wil,” Phil smiled.
Wilbur’s ears went pink. “Yeah, well… she needs a break,” he mumbled, burying his nose - almost literally - in his casserole.
Tubbo followed his lead and holy f*ck, Phil could cook.
He’d never had anything homemade before. Schlatt didn’t cook, he mostly ordered food, when he wasn’t at various Very Important Dinners - that Tubbo was being dragged to more and more often. Last time a few of the older ones tried to force him to drink wine. He had refused and received a lecture about respecting his elders from his father for his efforts.
But this - this was really nice. Tubbo would give up all the fancy meals that left him feeling empty for this.
“Th-this is really good Phil,” he said quietly.
“Why thank you Tubbo,” Phil said, surprised but quite pleased. “It’s my own recipe.”
“It’s your own recipe because you stole the one from the Tesco magazine and added aubergine to it,” Tommy pointed out.
“Well, everything’s better with aubergine!” Phil protested, sparking a debate across the table about the pros and cons of the vegetable. Tubbo found himself mediating between two equally stupid opinions while Wilbur poked holes in everyone’s arguments and Tommy bickered with Phil in a way that would have Tubbo’s ears burning if he tried it with his own father.
He loved every moment of it.
He loved it so much he stayed for the movie they watched, curled up on - or just in front of - the sofa, wrapped in blankets and talking through the whole thing. Wilbur fell asleep halfway through and Tubbo watched, a strange twinge in his heart as Phil gently pulled his son onto his shoulder, looking at him with an expression of pure love and pride.
As the credits rolled Tommy yawned and pulled out his phone. Tubbo’s eyes widened as he saw the time.
Eleven pm.
Sh*t.
“I - I should probably get home,” he said hurriedly. “I - It’s really late.”
Tommy pouted. “Aw, man!”
Phil gave Tommy a look , which was apparently enough to make him fall silent. Weirdly, it didn’t seem to be a scary look, but maybe it meant something Tubbo couldn’t understand. “I’ll walk you back.”
“Oh - you - you don’t have to -”
“Yes I do. I need to make sure you’re safe.”
“O-oh. Okay.”
The walk with Phil was relaxed and slow. Tubbo told him all about his latest school project and Phil nodded along, ‘mming’ at all the right moments. Tubbo loved it.
Which was why saying goodbye at his apartment door felt so hard.
The lift ride to the top floor felt much longer, much quieter, than usual, compared to Tommy taking the stairs to his apartment two at a time, talking the whole way. Tubbo stepped out and scanned his card, the door unlatching as he let himself in.
And was met with the sight of his father, arms crossed as he leant against the wall.
“Where have you been?”
Tubbo couldn’t speak, the door swinging closed behind him. He - he didn’t - he didn’t know what to do. He - he’d never - his father had never -
“Answer me,” Father growled and Tubbo’s throat tightened, as though the air around him was poisoned. “Where have you been?”
“I - I - I d-didn’t - I d-didn’t -”
“You didn’t what?”
“I’m - I’m s-s-s-sorry,” Tubbo pleaded. “P-please, I -”
“You left without my permission?! Who knows how long you’ve been gone?! You disrespect me, my home, how dare you?!”
“I - I’m sorry,” Tubbo repeated desperately. “Please, father, I didn’t -”
“You didn’t what? You didn’t think? What use is that brain of yours if you don’t use it, you f*cking moron?!”
Hot tears welled in Tubbo’s eyes. “I - I - That’s - that’s not - that’s not -”
“That’s not what?!” his father hissed. “You’re a f*cking idiot who doesn’t think Tubbo. Right from the start you’ve been nothing but a f*cking nuisance - I should have f*cking - you’re going to ruin everything like you always do! One slip Tubbo! One!”
Tubbo’s arms found each other, wrapping him up in an imitation of a hug as tears began sliding down his cheeks. “I - I know father. I - please -”
“Stop f*cking cowering - stop crying Tubbo, for f*cks sake, you’re fifteen years old. Grow the f*ck up.”
“S-s-s-sorry,” Tubbo gasped, trying to swallow past the awful lump in his throat. “I’m s-sorry, father, r-r-really, I’ll - I’ll do b-better -”
“Damn right you f*cking will,” his father spat. “Get out of my sight, waste of f*cking money.”
Tubbo obeyed, fleeing downstairs and into his bedroom, which was so much bigger and better-furnished and emptier than Tommy’s. He threw himself onto the bed and wrapped his arms over his head, trying to stifle the sobs. Stop crying. Stop crying. Stop crying.
He hated it here. He hated that his father only cared when it hurt. He hadn’t sent anyone out to find him, just waited like a spider in a web for its prey to come home. He - he didn’t care.
Not like Phil did.
Tubbo pulled out his phone and sent a message to his uncle.
Me
Made it into the apartment safe, thank you! :) <3
Uncle Phil
You’re welcome Tubbo. Anytime <3
Then Tubbo plugged his phone in, covered his head with his pillow, and cried himself to sleep.
---<>---
Tubbo kept going over to the Innits. He couldn’t help it, he felt better there somehow. More whole.
Wilbur and Techno were like big brothers, offering actual (and actually stupid) advice whenever they could. Techno was f*cking cool too, the man was about twice as wide as he had any right to be, and yet he still roughhoused with Tommy so gently, as though the lanky teenager was made of glass. Wilbur was weaker but spoke louder and longer - Tubbo could listen to him rant forever. Tommy was the same as ever, even as they got older, as exams and birthdays passed and they were sixteen, then seventeen, they still found time to play platform games that Tommy swore were ‘probably older than Phil’.
And Phil…
Phil was…
Phil was perfect.
Phil was gentle whenever he could be, stern only when he had to be. He laughed whenever there was a reason to, even if that reason was a joke he’d just made, he shared in the joys and sorrows of all three of his sons.
He was there. He was a part of their lives and he loved them, just as much as they loved him.
Sometimes, in the dead of night, lying awake in his own bed, Tubbo wished he had been born Phil’s son instead.
And that was such a selfish thought. He knew it was - he knew Phil had enough to be worrying about, knew the family could work without rest and still make nothing close to the amount of money Schlatt made.
But he didn’t want the money. He’d give it all up just to be with them - to fall asleep in that house and never have to wake up from the dream that was the life they had together.
He poured all these feelings into his journal, the way he always did. Bottling them up before they would crush him into powder, before his own fear and powerlessness overwhelmed him and he crumbled away into nothing.
He wrote it down so it couldn’t hurt him.
And then he tried to forget.
---<>---
“What the f*ck is this?!”
Tubbo jumped where he sat at the dining table as Schlatt slammed the offending object down. “What the f*ck is this Tubbo?!”
It was his journal.
“Um - that’s - that’s my -”
“What the F*CK have you been writing about me?!” Schlatt bellowed.
Tubbo reacted instinctively. Suddenly he was no longer seventeen, he was seven, being screamed at all over again, and he shot out of his chair, backing away. “I - I - I -”
“You want to live with PHILZA?!” Schlatt roared. “F*cking PHIL?!”
“I - I - I - Schlatt -”
A horribly dark expression crossed Schlatt’s face. “ Oh. I had wondered why you stopped calling me ‘father’.”
“I - I -”
“Well then boy,” Schlatt snarled, stalking closer, Tubbo edging backwards, trying to seek sanctuary in the penthouse windows. “Let me make something very clear.”
Tubbo’s heart beat wildly in his chest. “I - p-p-please - I’m -”
“Shut the f*ck up. You are not Philza’s, not your f*cking cousins’. And as much as I f*cking hate you, they will hate you more, Tubbo.”
Tubbo shook his head. “N-no - no, they -”
Schlatt laughed darkly. “Really? You think anyone else could put up with you as long as I have?! All the space you take up, the money you waste, the noise you make?!”
Tubbo swallowed.
I’m shorter than Wilbur, I’m smaller than Techno, I’m quieter than Tommy…
“You’re an ungrateful piece of sh*t!”
Tubbo spotted the hand come towards him a moment before it landed on his cheek.
He cried out in shock and pain, hands flying to his cheek and humiliating tears springing to his eyes as Schlatt flexed his palm, stepping away. “Get out of my sight. F*ck, I should have gotten rid of you the moment your mother left.”
Tubbo practically sprinted downstairs, diving into the bathroom and locking the door behind him and sliding down it, burying his head in his hands.
He had never felt so unsafe before.
Schlatt had always been volatile, dangerous. But - he’d never - he’d never hit him before. He’d never crossed that line.
If he’s willing to do that… what else will he do?
Tubbo didn’t know. And that scared him.
I should have gotten rid of you.
Tubbo pulled out his phone without thinking, typing with shaking hands.
Me
Uncle Phil?
Uncle Phil
Tubbo?
Everything okay?
Me
Can we call?
On the phone?
Uncle Phil
Of course!
Just give me a moment
A few seconds later Tubbo’s phone lit up green. He answered it immediately.
“Ph-Ph-Phil,” he gasped out, embarrassingly close to tears already. “I - I -”
“Tubbo?” Phil’s voice was thick with concern. “Are you alright?”
Tubbo shook his head, then remembered Phil couldn’t see him. “N-n-n-n- no,” he admitted.
“Are you hurt? Can I help you? Do you need something?”
Tubbo cried harder. “I - I n-n-need help - I - I - I need help,” he whispered.
“Why kiddo? What happened?”
Tubbo swallowed. “Schlatt - he - he - he -” he dissolved into sobs again.
“Deep breaths Tubbo. That’s right. I’m right here, everything’s going to be fine.”
Tubbo nodded shakily. Phil’s here. He’s right here. “He - he h-hit me."
There was a long beat of silence. Then - “Tubbo… kiddo… I…”
Somewhere above him the front door slammed shut. Schlatt was gone, probably to work late at the office, or maybe head to one of the elite bars in the city. Tubbo didn’t care. All he cared about was that he was gone.
“I’m coming over,” Phil said suddenly. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is it safe enough for you to open the door for me?”
“Y-y-yes,” Tubbo whispered, too tired - too desperate for Phil’s presence - to worry about the inconvenience the man was putting himself through for him. “I - d-don’t hang up. P-please.”
“I won’t,” Phil promised. “I’m right here.”
Twenty minutes later - twenty minutes, he must have run - there was a knock at the door.
Tubbo opened it, just as he was, cheeks tearstained and eyes red and wide with fear.
And Phil pulled him against his chest without hesitation.
“Oh kiddo… I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Tubbo. I - I’m so sorry, you’re going to be okay, oh Prime, I swear, I’m so sorry…”
Tubbo started sobbing all over again, though it wasn’t as bad into the flannel of Phil’s shirt, it wasn’t as lonely when there were arms around him.
And Phil didn’t let go. He just rocked them back and forth, whispering reassurances until Tubbo’s cries died down, until he had no tears left to shed.
It was Tubbo that pulled back first. It was Tubbo that looked into Phil’s eyes first.
He was scared. He was so, so scared.
But it was always Schlatt that made him scared. Not Phil. Never Phil.
He was safe with Phil.
And that made it so easy to ask: “Can I stay with you?”
Phil nodded. “Of course - Tubbo, of course.”
“A-are you sure? B-because…”
“Tubbo,” Phil said gently, but firmly. “If you hadn’t asked, I was going to insist.”
“O-oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Phil said softly. He looked around the penthouse. “Is - is there anything you want to grab?”
Tubbo shook his head. “No. L-leave it all.”
“Are you sure?”
Tubbo nodded. “I already have everything I need.”
Phil swallowed, throat bobbing and Tubbo’s breath hitched as he realised he was looking at him the same way he’d looked at Wilbur that night, over two years ago now. Joy and pride and love, all rolled into one. “I love you Tubbo.”
Tubbo heard those words for the first time that night.
It was the first time of many, many more.