Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wilbur met Tommy before Tommy met him.

“He needs a permanent caretaker,” the doctor told him when Wilbur was called to the room. “He is a transfer patient, but he’s been placed here permanently now.”  Wilbur took the folder as he was told to, skimming through lines and lines of medical history and diagnosis after diagnosis. “Just… Wilbur, do your best to keep him company in his final days, alright?”

Wilbur had told the doctor he would, and that was what led him here, in a bright white room just like all of the other ones he’d worked in, standing next to the bedside of a kid no older than fifteen.

Tommy had woken up twice, but he hadn’t been really there . His eyes were glazed and he just turned so he could face the window both times, pulling the blanket up to himself before settling back down.

Wilbur did what was asked of him, he took the kid’s vitals and tapered with the IV, trying not to let his heart pound with too much sympathy as he read the doses on the painkillers.

It was nearing the end of the day when Tommy finally woke up for real.

Wilbur let him have some time to bring himself to awareness, pulling himself to sit up on the hospital bed he was stationed on. Wilbur was glad he had his own room, no noise could really bother him in here unless Wilbur had to turn on any of the audio on some of the vital machines.

Tommy finally glazed over at Wilbur, and he decided to introduce himself.

“Hi, Tommy,” Wilbur waved partially, setting down his papers. “I’m Wilbur, your nurse.”

Tommy blinked for a second. “What happened to Sam?”

Wilbur had seen that name, and he went right back down to his papers. “Um, Doctor Sam Awesuede, you mean?” Tommy nodded. “He was the doctor at your last facility. You were transferred here yesterday.”

Tommy didn’t look too happy about that. “So I don’t even get to know about my transfers anymore? They just put me in a car and move me?”

Wilbur winced mentally. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I can help with that.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like it’s your fault. ” Tommy crossed his arms with a sigh. “What wing am I in?”

“Long-term care,” Wilbur nodded over to him, sitting down in a chair at his bedside.

Tommy scoffed. “Oh great, they’ve given up.”

Wilbur blinked in surprise, “Uh—”

“I’ve been at this a long fucking time, Wimblur ,” and though Tommy was exasperated, the little taunt at least made him chuckle. “I’ve been in emergency care or specialized wings this whole time. If I’m in long term now they obviously have run out of ideas.”

“Maybe they are just looking for ways to let you live a bit more comfortably, and less looking for a cure.” Wilbur had read through a lot of those documents, and most of them had detailed that they had no idea what was going on with Tommy’s body, they had no idea how to even start finding a cure, and they had no way to tell what it was going to effect next.

“Sure,” Tommy rolled his eyes. “That’s definitely what they’re trying to do.”

Wilbur shoved down the rolling of his stomach, standing up. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Tommy shook his head, Wilbur figured as much.

“Any idea where my stuff is?” Tommy asked instead, and Wilbur looked around to the corner, where a hastily stuffed school backpack was laying sideways.

“Is it the red backpack in the corner?” Wilbur asked, already walking toward it. He set it gently on top of the hospital bed, watching as Tommy reached toward it, pulling out his phone.

The screen lit up, and Wilbur decided that this was probably the best time to record vitals while he was awake, as long as he was occupied. Heart rate was a little faster, as to be expected, and his blood pressure was still as low as ever. Oxygen was pretty much fine—

“ They fucking left .”

Wilbur’s head turned over to Tommy again, where he was staring at his phone with the most betrayed expression to ever exist. His hands were shaking so much that he had to set his phone down, and the machine started to pick up frantically.

“Woah, Tommy, what’s going on?” Wilbur rushed over, helping Tommy ease himself back down. His breathing was out of alignment, and his eyes were squeezed shut.

Panic attack , alright, this was not totally helpful since this was Wilbur’s first time ever with the kid, but he could handle this.

He closed his eyes and grabbed onto one of Tommy’s hands. He squeezed his fingers tightly and then let it out in succession with his own breathing. He exaggerated his own breathing just a tad, not enough to patronize or make fun of, but enough to let him hear it, enough to get it through to his head that he needed to breathe.

A life like Tommy’s could not be any harder. Confined to a hospital bed and dragged around to different facilities against your will, waking up in unfamiliar rooms with unfamiliar people. Wilbur knew much about it, he’d seen plenty of it in other patients. They only felt worse when they became burdens on the family and on the staff for little things like stress and loneliness and boredom, and they couldn’t do anything about it themselves. They were forever stuck with harsh buzzing lights and thin paperlike hospital gowns with needles sticking out of their arms and people staring them down every waking moment they got, all ticking down to a procedure, or a treatment, or their death.

Wilbur had seen it all, young and old, but he never got over it when they gave up. He never wanted to see anyone give up. That was why he was here.

And he wouldn’t ever let that fucking happen to one of his patients.

It was a few minutes, and a few more minutes after that, when Tommy’s breathing evened out. His eyes were still scrunched up, but they looked more concentrated rather than holding back tears. Wilbur didn’t even notice that Tommy had gripped Wilbur’s gloved hand like a lifeline until he looked down to see his knuckles pale from how hard he was pressing down on his fingers. He loosened his own grip but didn’t make Tommy let go of his own.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Wilbur spoke in a hushed tone, just letting the words be between the two of them. Tommy’s eyes scrunched up a little more, his lips pursing and his grip tightening.

“My parents left,” Tommy croaked out, his voice tired in all the wrong ways. “They— they fucking abandoned me three hours from home—”

Bastards. The both of them.

“Hey,” Wilbur calmed his words, letting them trail off. “I’m sure they’re coming soon, they probably just had some things they needed to fix and then they’ll be right on their way, alright?”

Tommy swallowed what was probably a large lump in his throat before squinting his eyes open, batting at the tears that escaped in the process. Wilbur just offered a sympathetic smile, something that said I see you .

Tommy didn’t return it. He just looked down at the light blue sheets, and the same white color that everything was in this tasteless room, doing his best to make it all spontaneously combust with his eyes.

“Are the doctors doing any tests today?” Tommy whispered, and Wilbur was quick to shake his head.

“They knew the move would be difficult. You’ve got two more days before they start any tests or research, as long as there isn’t an emergency.”

Tommy nodded, finally relaxing his head against the propped-up pillow and sighing deeply, closing his eyes like he would hope the world would just fade away.

“Do you need anything from me?” Wilbur asked carefully, partially hoping Tommy would get some more rest but also hoping that he would still feel up for some minimal amount of recreation just to get his brain exercising.

Tommy peeked his eyes open, looking across at the phone he’d left on top of his sheets. “If my parents call while I’m asleep will you tell me?”

“Of course,” Wilbur nodded, standing up and reaching for the device to put it into a charger. He forgot about the hand gripping his again until there was resistance keeping him from moving to put Tommy’s backpack back on the ground. He partially chuckled.

“I’m going to need you to let go of my hand, you know.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, yet it was done in a lighthearted manner. “No, do your job with one less hand if you’re so good at it, bitch.”

“So you want to be clingy then?”

Tommy jerked his hand away like it had stung him. “ You’re the clingy one, dickhead.”

“I’m just saying, I have nothing against you being clingy—”

“Oh shut up,” Tommy grumbled, but finally there was just a hint of amusement, and Wilbur let himself relax just a bit, chuckling to himself as he reorganized the little hospital room they would be in for the foreseeable future.

---

“Wilbitch!” Wilbur heard his new nickname called from back inside the hospital room and sighed as he realized that, over the last week, he’d actually learned to respond to it.

He poked his head in through the doorway, apologizing quietly to the doctor he was talking to. “What is it, gremlin?”

“Does your old man ass know how to play Mario Kart?”

Wilbur had a lot to unpack in that sentence, and he took each bit of it one little phrase at a time. “First of all, I am twenty-four—”

“ Old ,” Tommy egged on from where he was holding two switch remotes in his hand. “I bet you can’t legally drive on the roads because you’re so senile—”

“I will beat your ass at Mario Kart, Tommy,” Wilbur called in, “Just give me a moment with this doctor, alright?”

Tommy’s mischievous grin dipped just partially, but Wilbur ducked out of the room before he could watch the rest of his reaction, choosing to ignore it completely as he faced the specialist.

“So sorry,” Wilbur apologized, bringing out his pen once more. “You said tomorrow at nine AM for…?”

“An MRI scan,” she repeated like the saint she was. “Radiology wing, be there by eight so we can take some blood samples before.”

“I can do that,” Wilbur nodded. “Anything else?”

Her look softened somewhat. “Just a thank you,” her voice was low, “He’s got the history of being a troublemaker, and I know his conditions aren’t exactly the easiest to deal with…”

Wilbur waved it off, “It’s my job, and he’s doing just fine. I don’t need to be thanked.”

“Still,” she flashed a smile as she turned her heel and continued down the hallway. Wilbur watched her leave, a heavy feeling sinking over his heart. Tommy hadn’t been a troublemaker with him at all. He was a little rowdy, sure, he liked to yell and cuss, but he wasn’t actively messing things up.

Wilbur shrugged it off, setting his papers down on the counter and writing another time and date on the calendar next to Tommy’s bedside.

“You have another appointment tomorrow,” Wilbur told him without any prompting. “Another MRI, some blood samples.”

“I don’t get what they still think they’ll find,” Tommy rolled his eyes, “It’s like they think I’m going to swap the sides of my brain overnight.”

Wilbur chuckled. “They just want another chance to look at it for themselves.”

“It’s just a bunch of green and red blobs.” Tommy tossed one of the switch controllers at Wilbur, who caught it only by premonition. “Play Rainbow Road with me, dickhead.”

“What happened to peaceful games?” Wilbur settled in the chair, making sure only to spend half an hour. “Like Animal Crossing?”

“I beat the game,” Tommy clicked on his character. “Need to do something else.”

“Sorry, you what ?”

“I beat the game,” Tommy moved to click one of Wilbur’s buttons when he wasn’t doing anything. “I unlocked the ending and everything.”

“Animal Crossing is an open-world game. There is no ending.”

Tommy scoffed. “You clearly haven’t played it enough. I have nothing but time, William.”

“Please never call me that again,” Wilbur scolded, but he couldn’t help but laugh.

He did beat Tommy at Mario Kart, much to the teen’s dismay.

---

“Wil?” Wilbur heard the tell-tale strained voice of one lone Tommy going way too deep into his head to do any good. Wilbur peeked his head in through the door, seeing the room as it had always been, and Tommy crouched over on his bed with his hands covering his ears.

Wilbur walked quickly over to his side, gently taking hold of his wrists and lowering them off of his head. Tommy blinked up at him but protested at his hands being taken away. His eyes were partially glazed.

“What are you hearing?” Wilbur asked, not letting his grip relax on Tommy’s wrists, keeping them away from his ears. “What can I help you with?”

“Ringing,” Tommy said quickly. “They won’t stop.”

“Keeping your hands over your ears won’t help them heal,” Wilbur put Tommy’s hands in his lap. “Take in some air, listen to the room, the ringing will fade.”

Tommy shook his head quickly again, his hands reaching to come up farther. Wilbur forced them back down with his hand. He carefully turned his head to check the ever-present blood pressure monitor and found that it was far above what was normal for Tommy, though actually normal for a healthy teenager.

He gritted his teeth, not sure what this meant. The fact that Tommy was having a symptom of the raised blood pressure probably meant that it wasn’t doing much good for him.

“Let me call a doctor, ok?” Wilbur voiced to Tommy, who had his eyes scrunched up now that he could no longer hide his ears. They shot open at the mention of the doctor, and he shook his head quickly.

“They’ll help you, Tommy,” Wilbur kept his hands on Tommy’s but reached over to the call button. It buzzed for a second, and the intercom clicked, and the button lit up with a flashing red, signaling that someone was on their way.

It was only a few more minutes that Wilbur had to guide Tommy through calming down, his mind not all the way there as he tried to get the ringing out of his ears. He looked almost like an animal trapped in a cage, partially panicked and not seeing a way out, wondering what good this would do.

Wilbur tried his best to calm him, but it hurt his soul.

Tommy had a number of bad days. His life consisted of more bad days than good days, and Wilbur had seen all sorts of things that triggered it. Sometimes it was as simple as his parents not answering a text right away, or a fan that started buzzing just a little too loud. Other times it was the number of people that would file into his room or a new tool the doctors wanted to use that he had never seen before. His anxiety had caused a number of different layers to be added to his condition, little things ticking him off and leaving him spiraling, and sometimes no one could tell the difference between it and what he was actually at the hospital for.

The doctor knocked and entered the room, and the day began early.

It was hours later when things finally settled, when Tommy and Wilbur were the only ones left in the room. The ringing in Tommy’s ears had faded, leaving him exhausted and asleep on his cot. Wilbur’s eyes were hanging low, and he felt like calling for a break now that Tommy was asleep, but couldn’t bring himself to leave him with someone else after all of that. When he did wake up, he needed to be with someone he recognized.

Wilbur took his break in Tommy’s room, sitting on the floor just to get a new angle, scrolling mindlessly through his phone just to give his brain something else to focus on, but it had trouble latching on. He kept looking over to Tommy, who looked so fragile, who should have been running and tackling his friends, staying up late against his parent’s wishes, making bad decisions on dumb bets just like Wilbur had not too long ago.

Why did the world strike down the most innocent of souls and leave people like Wilbur to achieve more than he should have been able to?

---

Wilbur’s phone was ringing. That much he knew. The rest of it, not so much. Work had left him exhausted at the end of every shift, and he’d fallen asleep in a break room more times than he could count, just needing to close his eyes for a moment more.

He didn’t know where he was, what time it was, or what at all he should have been doing currently, but his phone was ringing, and Wilbur was a nurse, so he had to answer.

“Hello?” He asked groggily, trying to sit up and clear his throat. The room was dark, so at least it wasn’t the break room.

“ Is this Wilbur Soot?” The person on the other side asked. “ I’m from the extended care unit at LM Hospital .”

Wilbur rubbed a hand down his face. “That’s me. What’s up?”

“ Well, your patient, Tommy Innet, woke up a few minutes ago, and is— ”

The person cut off suddenly as a sharp yelling filled the speaker, Tommy’s voice just barely recognizable.

They cleared their throat. “ ...causing a scene ,” they finished with a mutter. “ Do you have any idea what might be the matter? He’s not really responding to our cues. ”

Wilbur swallowed down a feeling of dread, pushing himself out of the bed he’d fallen asleep in. A glance at the covers let him know that this was actually his own apartment. He couldn’t even remember going home.

“Have you checked his vitals? Sometimes he goes unresponsive if something’s wrong.” Wilbur flung a jacket over his pajamas. He had an extra pair of scrubs waiting in his bag.

“Nothing seems to be abnormal, just a heightened heart rate now that he’s screaming.”

“Was he looking at his phone before?” Wilbur had his keys, his wallet. He put on his shoes. “Did he say anything about his parents?”

“Nothing. Just woke up and started screaming.”

Wilbur bit his cheek, closing his apartment door. “Nightmare?”

“That wouldn’t be something we could tell,” they sighed. “Is there anything you can suggest?”

“He needs space,” Wilbur started. He had accumulated an entire list over the two weeks. “Limited interactions, limited movement. Dim the lights if you are worried to turn them off completely. Music helps, Tommy’s phone should be unlocked and music should be immediately on the home screen.” Wilbur was out of his building now, he only lived two blocks from the hospital. “I’m on my way.”

The person on the other end sighed. “I meant medication-wise.”

Wilbur gritted his teeth. “Sedating him will make it worse. That’s listed almost immediately on his file.”

“We can’t just let him keep screaming.”

“Then do what I suggested!”

This was the problem with the health care system. They were so ready for easy answers and easy solutions, that they didn’t even check the files to make sure what they were doing would actually help . Wilbur’s absolute worse fear was medical malpractice. He should have just slept in the chair in Tommy’s room again. This was what happened when people neglected to find the real answers for themselves.

Wilbur pushed himself through the hospital doors, through the elevator, and walked through hallways until he could hear the commotion through the halls rather than through the phone.

Already he could count a number of things that could set Tommy off. Buzzing fluorescents, four different people crowding around his bed, and his backpack had been discarded to the side of the room.

“All of you get out,” Wilbur ordered, not caring that he probably wasn’t the senior in the room. People still listened, wanting to be rid of the responsibility. Wilbur was quick to shut off the lights and grab Tommy’s backpack, taking Tommy’s hand and squeezing it tightly just for any form of response.

Tommy gripped his hand tightly, his voice tapering off, and breathing deepening within moments.

“I’m right here,” Wilbur promised, squeezing Tommy’s hand right back. “I’m not going anywhere.

Wilbur just wished there were more people that cared.

—

“Wil,” Tommy called from the other side of the room. Wilbur turned from where he was organizing some of the bottles, mostly pills, though Tommy had a brand new injection he had to take once a day for the next week.

“Hmm?” Wilbur responded when Tommy didn’t demand what he wanted right away. He kept his attention on Tommy, knowing it helped.

“I’m… can you take off your mask?”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. He became suddenly aware of the medical mask over his face, a constant presence so familiar that he barely realized he was wearing it most of the time.

“I can’t do that, Tommy,” Wilbur shook his head, and though he usually didn’t tell the kid no, he couldn’t disregard the actual rules of being in this unit. “The rules of the hospital include mask-wearing at all times for the staff, and you have a weakened immune system that I do not want to put at risk.”

“I didn’t mean—” Tommy started but eventually just sighed. “Just a picture then? I just… I’ve never seen you without it and I’m—”

Oh , Wilbur understood. He would admit that the mask did feel a little impersonal, it was just a safety measure, but of course it would help to actually know what was beneath it.

Wilbur walked over, just abandoning everything else for a moment. The patient was first, no matter what they needed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his pictures.

Work was his life, and there were several boring pictures of documents, medical signs, and pictures of written prescriptions that he’d had to contact doctors about because the writing was unreadable, but eventually they got to Wilbur’s two-week vacation that he’d taken a month or so ago.

It was a picture of him and Techno, down by the pier in their hometown. The trip had given him a wave of nostalgia like no other, taking time to try things little Wilbur had immortalized. Techno’s long pink hair was in his face because of the wind, and Wilbur was scrunching his face up because of the sun, but they were both laughing like little kids.

“That’s me and my friend in our hometown,” Wilbur explained. “He’s an EMT a couple of hours away, we met in our high school’s pre-nursing course.”

Tommy’s hands hovered over the phone, knowing he shouldn’t touch it, but tempted to anyways. Wilbur zoomed in for him, stopping over his face to let Tommy take it in.

“You don’t look any different,” Tommy started and then tried to correct himself when it came out wrong. “I mean, that’s what I imagined you looked like under the mask.”

“Really?” Wilbur laughed. “I didn’t think I had one of those faces.”

Tommy nudged him with his shoulder. “I’m trying to give you a compliment, just take it.”

Wilbur nudged him back. “Don’t need to, I know I’m awesome.”

“ Bitch ,” Tommy cussed back at him, but there was a delicate smile there now. He looked down at the picture, zoning in on Techno this time. “Is he your soulmate?”

Wilbur was surprised a bit by the question. “Um, no,” he started. “I haven’t met my soulmate, I don’t think.”

Tommy hummed a confirmation, leaning back. “I don’t think I’ll ever meet them.”

Wilbur’s heart sank right to the floor, tied to cinderblocks. He didn’t have to ask why. Being in Tommy’s position had to have come with some frightening thoughts, including something like that.

Dying too soon, and taking your soulmate with you.

Wilbur had seen it before.

He hadn’t thought about his in a while. Every so often his mark, hidden by his collar, would burn strangely. It was supposed to happen whenever the other was thinking about you. He couldn’t tell if the slight burning now was his own mind conjuring up some phantom feeling, or if he was initiating it himself.

Tommy uncomfortably adjusted himself in his bed, averting his eyes.

“You move around a lot, yeah?” Wilbur asked, settling on the side of the cot. “Maybe your soulmate will be one of your nurses. Or doctors.”

Tommy huffed. “I’ve moved six times, if I haven’t found them now why would I ever?” He crossed his arms. “And I don’t think I’m moving again. This is long-term care. And my parents haven’t even come to see me.”

Wilbur’s chest was burning.

“Whoever your soulmate is,” Wilbur began carefully, taking Tommy’s hands, but this time he wished he didn’t have to wear gloves. “They’ll love you no matter what. No matter who you are or what your condition is. That’s what a soulmate is for.”

Tommy shook his head, “I’m going to kill them before they even meet me.”

Wilbur squeezed Tommy’s fingers. “All the better meeting in the next life, then.”

Tommy didn’t answer, turning over and facing the window. Wilbur let his hand slip out, returning to his work.

The mark beneath his neck burned back in return as Wilbur thought about the soul he was paired with, and they wondered about him back.

—

Tommy was in a procedure, which meant Wilbur had the next hour to himself.

He spent it outside, in an upper courtyard meant for some physical therapy. Wilbur just needed some fresh air and privacy.

Techno called him not five minutes in.

“Hey Tech,” Wilbur sighed, smiling a little bit. “How’s life?”

“Not bad, ” Techno replied, which was high praise in Techno’s mind. He always seemed to be pessimistic. “On break finally?”

“Sorry I haven’t been answering your calls,” Wilbur rolled his eyes a little bit. “I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah? That kid you were texting about?”

Wilbur hummed a confirmation, setting his eyes on the blue sky. “He’s a handful.”

Techno was quiet for a few seconds. “You’re tired.”

Wilbur blinked as if coming back to reality. “What? How can you tell?”

“You didn’t try to immediately brag about something, you are letting the conversation die, and you haven’t mentioned my hair yet.”

Wilbur let out a sudden laugh. “Am I really that predictable?”

“What's keeping you up at night, Wil?”

Wilbur leaned back against the small tree he was sitting against, running a hand through his hair. “The kid. The kid I’m taking care of.”

“More than just work, then?”

Wilbur nodded but knew Techno couldn’t see it. “He’s been living in a hospital for three years, moved… I think he said six times. He’s got a test or procedure every other day and the doctors still don’t know what's wrong with him.” Wilbur took a breath in and let it out. “The kid is just so certain he’s going to die. His parents haven’t visited him once. And to make it worse, I think the only reason he isn’t suicidal is because he doesn’t want the soulmate he’s never met to die because of him.” Wilbur stuttered out a breath. “He’s fifteen. ”

Techno remained silent, letting Wilbur process. He vented a few more things, talked about Tommy’s love for video games, and the way he hasn’t been seen out of bed for years. Wilbur only moved him to a chair twice to change sheets. The kid could barely walk, his lungs not supporting the exertion.

And Techno… Techno was quiet. He was that type of quiet where Wilbur could tell he was putting pieces together in his head. Puzzles had always been his strong suit, and he was extremely good at piecing together the human body.

“...have you asked Phil?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. “I haven’t spoken to him since I graduated.”

Techno was shuffling paper. “Well, looking at the list of symptoms I’ve made just listening to you, this sounds like the kind of thing he specializes in.”

Phil specialized in the main internal organs. He was a retired heart surgeon, Wilbur and Techno’s old professor, and an incredibly sought-after doctor, always hard to get through to.

Based on Tommy’s CT scans, the doctors he had seen had already assumed it didn’t have anything to do with the brain. It should stem from the heart and lungs, but they couldn’t tell at all what was wrong. Everything was normal except for the symptoms.

“He’s a busy man, I doubt he’d even still have my number.”

“I’ll text him, then,” Techno countered. “I’ll tell him you’ll call and give him your number.”

Wilbur swallowed down his nerves. “Alright.”

“Whenever your next break is, call him.”

“I will,” Wilbur promised. Anything for Tommy’s well-being.

—

Phil’s answer was straightforward. After just ten minutes, he was in his car.

I’ll be there in two hours.

So now, Wilbur was hesitantly trying to convince Tommy that the answer to his seemingly terminal illness resided in a doctor that could drop everything and be over in just hours.

“If he’s so good at what he does, why haven’t I heard of him?” Tommy almost pouted, his arms crossed in front of him. “My parents looked everywhere.”

Wilbur had a hard time believing that. The first search result when you looked up a lung and heart trauma specialist, which was what was theorized on the front of all of Tommy’s files, was Dr. Phil Craft.

“There’s the possibility that… they might not have been able to afford him,” Wilbur tried to soften, but he was beginning to realize more and more that Tommy’s parents might have given up ages ago. “He’s a pretty sought-after guy.”

“And you just… called him?”

Wilbur swallowed down an unpleasant feeling. “He… was my professor, back when he taught. He was the one that said I’d be a better nurse than a doctor. My friend, Techno, still keeps in touch with him. Works for him, actually.”

Tommy still looked skeptical, but Wilbur tried to take his mind off of it, at least for a bit. Tommy didn’t take much convincing before they were split-screening Super Mario Odyssey.

Phil knocked on the door before they knew it.

The man didn’t look all too different. He’d lost the long hair, but that had been a bet with Techno anyway. There was a ring on his finger, which Wilbur wasn’t too surprised about considering Techno had gone to the wedding. He didn’t look a day older, but Wilbur didn’t exactly know how old he was.

“Wilbur!” Phil said happily. Wilbur got up to meet him, if a little awkwardly. Phil just greeted him like he had never left university. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s been too long,” Wilbur agreed, closing the door behind him. As much as Wilbur wished he could see Phil smile, the masks were far more than necessary.

“Tommy, right?” Phil greeted next. Tommy didn’t say anything, pursing his lips together. Phil didn’t seem to mind. “Sorry this is sudden, but I have to imagine you’re used to that by now.”

Tommy scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

Wilbur’s chest loosened if only a little.

“I’m going to get straight to the point so this isn’t any more painful than it has to be.” Phil pulled up a chair, and Wilbur pulled out Tommy’s medical records, all kept in a binder. “The assumption is lung and heart trauma?”

“Yeah.” Tommy was biting his cheek. “But no one can tell why or how to fix it. Or if that's even the problem.”

Phil nodded considerately, taking the binder. He flipped straight to the MRI scans, thumbing over each detail. Wilbur knew Phil could tell what every detail was, having memorized his field to perfection— he had urged all of his students to do the same, which Wilbur was utterly horrible at.

“MRIs are normal, nothing visual,” Phil confirmed. Tommy already knew that, but even he looked disappointed. Phil was still concentrating, though his eyes were moving to the outer edges. “How old are you, Tommy?”

Tommy was obviously not expecting that one. “Um, fifteen.”

“Do you know if you were born prematurely?” Phil continued, tapping on the side of the paper. He rustled through the earlier papers, the ones that hadn’t been looked at in years.

“I… I don’t think so? I never heard about it if I was.”

Finally, the birth certificate and report were pulled up. Whoever had been in charge of documenting it hadn’t done a very good job, but to be frank, it was usually obvious when one was needed, and this one hadn’t been. Phil was skimming through the lines.

“The due date was March 30th… you were born on April 9th. Late, then…” he hummed, thumbing through a few more things. Elementary check-ups, middle school vaccinations… “I’m sure you’ve explained this before, but what does it feel like when you are exerting yourself? How do your lungs react?”

Tommy shifted, pressing himself in close. “I mean… they hurt, like an ache normally. When I’m walking around though it’s sharp when I breathe in.”

“Do they stutter? Try to keep you from breathing in?”

“No,” Tommy shook his head. “Only when I have panic attacks.”

“Sounds unrelated…” Phil muttered. “Do you have trouble holding your breath?”

“Mmhmm,” Tommy hummed. Wilbur smiled, seeing him get a little more cooperative. “That hurts a lot more.”

“Compare holding your breath to exertion on a scale, if you would.”

“Um,” Tommy thought for a moment, twisting his fingers. “Exertion’s like a nine? But holding my breath doesn’t get on the scale because I just can’t do it at all. I start screaming.”

Wilbur watched an idea click right into Phil’s brain, looking back at the MRI scans.

“Wil,” Phil addressed him suddenly. “What’s been his average heart rate these past couple of days?”

“Relaxed, about 60–70 beats per minute.” It rolled right off the top of his head from how much he was supposed to take vitals.

Phil tilted his head. “That’s about the average for a fifteen-year-old boy.” Tommy nodded. “But you’re not quite average, are you?”

“What… do you mean?” Tommy blinked, partially confused.

Phil hummed and leaned forward in his chair, eyes leaving the file. “Were you at all interested in athletics, Tommy? Before all of this?”

Tommy shook his head, his fingers were restless.

“The average high school boy exercises enough to get a heart rate of about 60–70,” Phil explained. “But you, for obvious reasons, would not have any athletic experience. Your B-P-M should be about 90–100.”

Brand new information. It seemed so obvious. Tommy’s expression was a little less than outright shocked. New information was good, but they had nothing substantial right now.

“Would you mind if I felt your ribs, Tommy?” Phil leaned forward. “So I can get a good idea of where they are?”

“They’re not out of place,” Tommy hugged his arms close to his chest. “I’ve had enough x-rays to tell that.”

“I’m not trying to see if they’re out of place.” Phil had a sparkle in his eye now. He knew exactly what was going on, but he needed grounding information to prove it.

“What are you trying to do?” Tommy’s stare was not welcoming whatsoever, untrustworthy.

Phil sighed. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. I could be completely wrong.”

Tommy quickly shook his head back and forth, sinking into the far corner of his hospital bed.

“Tommy,” Wilbur leaned forward, lowering his voice. “It’s ok, he’s a good man. He knows what he’s doing.”

Tommy still shook his head. His heart rate was rising, breaths shallowing out.

“Outside the room,” Wilbur commanded Phil immediately. “I’ll call you back in when I can.”

Phil left without a word.

Wilbur’s hand was over Tommy’s. He was squeezing him time. The lights were dimmed, but Tommy’s phone was out of reach. Wilbur began to hum, just to have some sound.

He didn’t even know the tune he was reciting, just humming gently, squeezing Tommy’s hand, waiting for his breaths to even and his heart to slow back down again.

The world outside was dimming too, clouds slowly overtaking the sky. It was a nice gesture, whoever was controlling them.

It didn’t matter how long it took. Tommy came back to himself, more exhausted, but there was sight behind his eyes.

“He can’t,” Tommy whispered, clutching Wilbur’s hand. “I fucking hate when doctors just—”

No words were needed, Wilbur understood completely.

“Phil can’t find out if he’s right or not if he doesn’t,” Wilbur still tried to reason. “We can do it another day if that’s what you want.”

Tommy pursed his lips, staring angrily at a spot on his sheets.

“Could you do it?”

Wilbur, as much as he was flattered, was not trained in pulmonology.

“I’m not specialized enough,” he tried. “I wouldn’t know what I’m looking for.”

Tommy shook his head anyway. “He’s your teacher, right? He can teach you.”

Could Wilbur say no to that? He guessed he could, it wasn’t on his list of duties, and he had the right to refuse any practice he deemed himself unfit for.

But could Wilbur say no to Tommy? When all he had to do was try?

Wilbur brought Phil back in after explaining what was going to happen, and so here he was, pressing his fingers to Tommy’s ribcage, praying he remembered enough from class to do this correctly.

“Find the gap between the fourth and fifth rib,” Phil was instructing, “Two fingers, press them to the center of the left side.” Tommy’s hand was clenched around the edge of his bed. “Poke in bit by bit. Tommy, tell us if it's too much.”

Wilbur pressed his fingers to Tommy’s skin, his gloves crinkling. After a nod from Tommy, he pressed down a little harder between the gap. Tommy’s legs tensed, but he confirmed it was alright. He edged in a little more. He knew what it should feel like, he had to keep reminding himself. He would know if he found something out of the ordinary.

Just one little bit more, he pushed in. Tommy hissed out of his teeth but didn’t move away.

Wilbur felt resistance. His hand jumped back, startled.

He’d felt… something. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Or at least—

“Oh.” Wilbur understood. He knew exactly what Phil had been looking for.

And he was right.

“Did you feel resistance?” Phil asked, scootching forward. “Did you feel it?”

Wilbur nodded, pulling his hands back. Tommy slipped his shirt back on.

Phil’s eyes crinkled in the way Wilbur knew he was smiling.

“I think the case is solved, then,” Phil clasped his hands together. Tommy was shaking. “Tommy, you have repeated lung trauma, and possibly heart trauma, because your lungs are too big for your body.”

Tommy just stared, dumbfoundedly, at Phil’s eyes.

“This is a dream.”

Wilbur chuckled softly, squeezing Tommy’s hand again. “All real, buddy.”

Tommy’s other hand went up to his hair, running his fingers through it to try and ground himself. “There’s— that’s it? No one could figure that out?”

Phil shrugged. “It’s not a common occurrence, some kind of mutation possibly from being born late. You can’t sustain your breathing because your lungs keep hitting your rib cage. You probably had a bruised chest a lot as a kid?” Tommy nodded with wide eyes. “Despite having large lungs, your body has trouble spreading oxygen because your heart is too cramped in its space. That’s why your heart rate and blood pressure are low.”

Tommy was crying. Wilbur couldn’t blame him.

“How— how do I fix it?” Tommy stuttered out. “Please, how do I fix it?”

Phil… hesitated.

Wilbur didn’t breathe.

“The only plausible option would be a transplant,” Phil started. “You would need smaller lungs.” Neither Wilbur nor Tommy spoke. “But…” There it was. “I’m not sure how your body would react to that.”

“What do you mean?” Wilbur asked in place of Tommy.

“You’ve had large lungs all your life, so there’s no telling how your body might react to suddenly be depleted of oxygen it once had a complete abundance of.” Tommy’s hand was cutting off Wilbur’s blood flow. He couldn’t find himself to care. “Your brain might think you’re suffocating, endlessly.”

Brain-dead.

“That’s—” Tommy rubbed at his face. “That’s fucking bullshit.”

Phil winced. “Yeah, it's not an easy solution.”

“Any possibility he wouldn’t have to get new lungs?” Wilbur asked, feeling like it needed to be done. “Could we take out part of the lung to make it just a bit smaller? Do that gradually?”

Phil’s expression creased beneath his mask. “That would be even more of a gamble. Those surgeries aren’t easy, and it would be essentially puncturing a lung over and over again and having it heal. With breathing problems already…”

Fuck .

“So it’s fucking pointless,” Tommy spat, leaning back but still gripping Wilbur’s fingers. “I’m going to die no matter what.”

“I can keep thinking about treatments,” Phil nodded. “But there’s no definite way to go about this yet.”

Chills crept over Wilbur’s spine, but his chest began to burn with his soul mark. He looked over to Tommy, who had completely zoned out.

Wilbur squeezed his hand carefully before letting go. It joined Tommy’s other hand in his lap.

“Outside for a minute, Phil?” Wilbur asked, and Phil nodded as he stood. He didn’t want to leave Tommy alone, but maybe Phil could tell him something else out of range of the kid.

Wilbur let the door open a crack behind him.

“There’s no real cure,” Phil’s voice dropped. “I’ve seen things like this before, barely anyone’s made it, especially this young.” Wilbur’s heart rate wouldn’t go back to normal. “And, Wil,” Phil tried to call his attention. “It's only a matter of time before something goes wrong. His lungs could still be growing, he could puncture them on his own.”

Wilbur took in an uneven breath. “Worst to best case scenario?”

“Worst, he dies before we can figure out some kind of treatment option,” Phil gritted out between his teeth. “Or he could die in the surgical procedure if we do try a form of treatment. Best case…” he trailed off, thinking. “Best case would probably be a successful procedure, but the success rate…”

“Low.” Wilbur was fuming. “Dangerously low.”

Phil nodded, looking off to the side. “Have him call his parents, just bounce ideas back and forth with him and get him comfortable with some things changing. I’ll brainstorm with some of my team. I can try and get him transferred over.”

Again , Wilbur thought, but couldn’t express.

“Thank you for coming,” Wilbur told him. “It means so much to him to finally have an answer.”

Phil’s eyes crinkled again. “I’m glad I could help. Keep in touch, Wil, alright?”

Wilbur nodded, “I’ll do that, Phil.”

Phil walked off with just a wave, and Wilbur slipped back into Tommy’s room.

They didn’t talk about it for the rest of the day.

—

Tommy was scared of his own phone now. He had texted his parents, saying that the doctors had found out what it was.

The message had popped up as read an hour ago. There was no call, no other texts, Wilbur was praying it was because they were busy. That, or they were driving over to hear it themselves.

The hours ticked by, then a full day. Nothing.

Tommy had flung his phone across the room, the screen cracked, but he didn’t care in the slightest.

Wilbur just held his hand, there if he needed him.

“Sometimes,” Tommy murmured, right before Wilbur was going to turn the lights off for the night. “I think you’re the only one left that cares. But… but it’s just your job…”

Wilbur shook his head, balling Tommy’s hand up in both of his. “I do care, Toms—” the name just slipped out, he hadn’t been expecting it. “Even if no one else in the world remembers you, I care. I’m here. I’m not going to leave if I have a choice.”

Tommy just stared blankly at the wall. Wilbur switched off the light and decided to give him some privacy.

He was sure the food in his fridge had gone bad, he hadn’t seen his apartment in a week.

He didn’t actually go back now that he had the option. He pushed himself into a co-worker’s office, and after texting them, he got permission to crash.

His chest began to burn.

It had happened occasionally before, of course, but now… it seemed every day that his soulmate was thinking about him, wondering who he was, what he was doing.

His thoughts burned back in reply, hopefully offering some comfort, whoever they were, whatever they were going through.

He was so close to sleep when his watch buzzed, and Wilbur knew not to hesitate. He wasn’t in his scrubs anymore, but it didn’t matter. Tommy needed him, and Wilbur would be there.

He poked his head in. Tommy had moved from distant to sobbing in just a few minutes.

“Kid,” Wilbur whispered, going up to his side. “How can I help?”

Not what’s wrong , no personal questions. Just support.

Tommy looked up at him, tears burning in his eyes. Wilbur could imagine his lungs were protesting.

“Just…” Tommy tried to get the words out, “Stay?”

Wilbur blinked tiredly. “I’ve gotta sleep, Toms.”

Tommy moved himself over in the bed as much as he could, leaving a decent amount of room on the bed, enough for another person.

This was so incredibly unprofessional.

“I… Tommy, this—” Wilbur started but couldn’t find a real answer for why he couldn’t. It would help him. When was the last time Tommy had actually been comforted by another person?

“Just once?”

Wilbur sighed but kicked off his shoes. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I’ve been with you every hour of the day, you haven’t gotten me sick yet.”

Wilbur sat on the side of the bed as Tommy lifted up the sheets. “I’ve been trying to keep my distance.”

“Distance is for pricks,” Tommy muttered, and Wilbur chuckled softly. He was close enough to the kid that this was ok. Hell, the kid probably trusted him more than his own parents at this point.

When Tommy closed the gap, Wilbur embraced him back.

And suddenly, the room was glowing.

Wilbur blinked up in wonder at the lights shimmering around his head. Tommy gasped, followed by a light cough. It looked like fairies were curling over their heads, little stars glowing around in the air. They dimmed after some time, but with nowhere to escape to, the stars drifted like fireflies.

“Holy shit,” Wilbur whispered, the curse dropped out of his mouth before he even realized it.

“You—” Tommy stuttered, but just gripped tighter to Wilbur. “It’s—”

“It’s you,” Wilbur breathed.

His chest didn’t burn anymore. It was warm on another level, a comfort he didn’t feel possible.

Tommy let out a sob, but there was a smile on his face. Wilbur leaned in close, didn’t care about the unprofessionalism anymore. Tommy was his .

“Soulmates,” Tommy said through tears. “ Fuck .”

Wilbur just laughed.

They couldn’t say anything more, drifting off with the floating lights. Wilbur had never slept better.

—

The transfer request came in without trouble. Tommy was getting ready to move again, doctors buzzing in and out, and Tommy was jumping at every sound, on edge from everything that had happened in the past couple of days.

The diagnosis.

His parents’ silence.

The soulmate discovery.

Wilbur’s head was buzzing, but he hadn’t slept fitfully in about three days, not since the lights had erupted around the two of them. He had been in and out of Tommy’s room, helping with the transition, while trying to get through his own paperwork. His own transfer request.

From the very few nurse-to-patient soulmate cases, the nurse had always been able to get instated as a personal nurse no matter where the patient was sent off to. Wilbur was hoping his own paperwork would go through just as quickly.

The problem was that Tommy was a minor, Wilbur was not, and Tommy’s parents were silent several hours away. No matter what Tommy spammed them with messages about, not the diagnosis, not the treatment, not the soulmates, not even when he lied that he was dying, Tommy’s messages would pop up read but there was no response.

Wilbur had gone to check Tommy’s files, seeing if he needed parental permission to transfer or get certain treatments, and all of it was a no. If Tommy consented to it, the doctors could do it.

But Wilbur’s permanent services? That was locked behind a whole list of signatures, and the only way around it was court.

Wilbur, after one long, scary call with Techno and Phil, had decided that nothing was more important than being with Tommy right now. He turned in his resignation notice and said he’d be leaving in three days.

Phil hired him the second he walked out of the building, getting into the car with Tommy to start the trip to his seventh hospital.

Tommy had failed to mention his motion sickness. It was understandable with everything going on, but it led to a very fast, very forced, and very risky administering of a sedative as they were on the highway.

Wilbur’s heart was beating straight out of his chest the whole two hours, and it didn’t slow until he forced himself out of the car at the hospital, and was met by a pair of hands set on his shoulders, steadying him until he could properly manage the situation.

He smiled at Techno, who smiled right back before leaving to help the others move Tommy into his seventh placement and, hopefully, his last.

When Tommy woke up not too long after he had been settled in his room, Wilbur was right next to him.

“Wow,” Tommy remarked sarcastically. “This hospital room is white. Just like all of the others.”

Wilbur laughed, trying his best to make light of all that was happening, but everything was going by much too fast for him. Phil was going to meet them with his team as soon as Wilbur called, but he felt like he needed to give Tommy some time first to get comfortable with reality.

“It’s actually just a treatment facility,” Wilbur remarked, “It’s privately run, so it doesn’t have the title of hospital yet.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “It’s super plain for a ‘treatment facility’ then. Can no one put in a colored trim or something? I feel like there are colors I haven’t seen since I was twelve.”

Wilbur nudged him gently. “You know why hospitals are white. It’s so we—”

“—can clean easier, yeah yeah,” Tommy waved him off. “Well, what’s the hold-up? I’m supposed to be bombarded with doctors by now.”

Wilbur let the silence settle a little bit. The room was surprisingly quiet. A few machines were still yet to be hooked up to Tommy’s body, and the air circulation was quiet because it was new.

“I thought I should give you a minute.” Wilbur dropped his voice, squeezing Tommy’s hand with his glove. For once he wished he could just get a moment of contact. “Considering last time you woke up in a new place and immediately had a panic attack—”

“Bitch,” Tommy swatted at him. “I was vulnerable ; the great Tommy Innet had a moment of vulnerability and needed to restart his lungs.”

“The ‘ great’ Tommy Innet?”

“You heard me, dickhead.” Tommy’s smile was all sunshine. “Not everyone can be as fantastic as I am.”

Wilbur saw an opportunity and decided that there was really nothing to lose. “Does being ‘ great’ mean you have to have lung problems too? Because if that’s the case, I had asthma when I was little—”

Tommy picked up whatever was in his reach and chucked it at Wilbur’s head. He managed to block it but only fumbled on the catch until the pair of headphones tumbled to the floor. Tommy was laughing, though minding his airways. Wilbur wished he could hear what his laugh sounded like at full capacity. He would bet it sounded like bells on a windchime.

“Are you ok with me sending for the doctors now? They have some options for treatment that they want to lay out.”

Tommy sighed as heavily as he could but nodded to Wilbur. It was a vast improvement from just a few weeks ago when Tommy would tighten up at every mention of them and their procedures. It was probably due to the amount of trust that was shared between them now that they had confirmation that they shared linked souls.

Wilbur’s chest warmed at the thought, and he could see the moment that Tommy realized what Wilbur was thinking about and pushed it right back at him. It was a nice feeling, more than the burning had been before.

That word soulmate was linked to a person now, and there was only trust between them.

“I’ll send them in,” Wilbur smiled, getting up from his seat to go out into the hall.

He trusted Phil to take good care of Tommy, but there was still that worry that festered in his gut whenever he thought about what was going to come next, what it could mean for the both of them.

—

“So, Tommy,” Techno began slowly. Wilbur knew him long enough that he could pick out when Techno had a question in mind but was worried saying it too quickly would dismiss it. He often drew out his phrases to word them correctly, but Wilbur could always tell when Techno had something on his mind. “What’s on your bucket list?”

Tommy looked skeptically up at him. “You mean besides the obvious?” Wilbur huffed out a laugh at that, watching Techno go about as pick as his hair. “I don’t know… I’ve just been stuck in the same places so long that I’ve never really gotten to do anything , you know?” Tommy reached up to scratch the back of his head but was stopped by Wilbur, who was trying to do something with one of the blood pressure monitors, which is what Techno was trying to distract him from. It was obviously working. “I was supposed to go to an amusement park for my eighth-grade graduation, but I landed in here before that could happen. I always wanted to ride a rollercoaster.” 

Techno nodded thoughtfully. “It’s not all it’s chalked up to be. Rollercoasters just mess with my hair.”

“You screamed like a little girl,” Wilbur commented. Techno glared at him as Tommy chuckled, looking between the two. “Tommy. Even if you had been able to go on that rollercoaster, you would have learned very quickly that motion sickness acts up fast on those things.”

Tommy cringed. “Yeah, maybe not on my bucket list then.”

“What else?” Techno prompted, getting the kid to turn away as Wilbur got the machine to calibrate. “Anything you want to see? Do? Someone you want to meet?”

Tommy gave a very knowing look over at Wilbur, who just beamed right back at him.

Eventually, though, Tommy leaned back against the bed with a little bit of an embarrassed expression. “I’ve… been in the hospital for three years,” he began. “And hospital food…”

Techno cringed back almost immediately. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“It’s fucking awful, to state it lightly,” Tommy continued. “And growing up I went to, like, fast food places and all that, but I’ve never really… been to a fancy restaurant or anything. I certainly haven’t had good food in a while.”

Techno leaned forward. “Anything in mind you’d want to order?”

Neither Wilbur nor Tommy was stupid, but it was the thought that really counted.

“An actually good plate of chicken,” Tommy breathed like it couldn’t even be spoken of. “And one of those… they’re called mocktails right? And just— cake and ice cream— god , it’s been so long since I’ve had ice cream.”

Techno smiled genuinely at the kid, who was trying to come up with every single good meal that he had seen mainly through a screen. Wilbur would have to review anything Techno tried to order, god knew the kid had about as many restrictions as he had hair on his head, but it was a really good sentiment and certainly something doable.

Wilbur looked over at the calendar, one of the dates next month accompanied by big red letters. Maybe they could do a little something before then.

Wilbur added the thought to his notes app and continued on with his duties.

—

“-ilbur. Wilbur. Wilbur. ”

Wilbur blinked his eyes open, not exactly sure where he was or what he had been doing before. The room was fuzzy, with a haze over the air that probably just belonged to the sleep that hadn’t left his eyes.

Phil was standing in front of him, looking skeptical like Wilbur had just ‘forgotten’ to bring his homework instead of having forgotten about it.

“Hmm?” Wilbur hummed, trying to stretch out his limbs but one of them was pinned underneath—

Underneath Tommy.

Who was sleeping next to him.

“Shit!” Wilbur hissed, though was trying not to wake him as he slipped out of the bed. Tommy hummed in discomfort, but just rolled over a little bit.

“Wilbur,” Phil sighed. “If you—”

“I won’t do it again!” Wilbur held his hands up. “It’s unprofessional, I have no idea how I ended up there—”

“ Wil, ” Phil cut him off. Wilbur’s mouth shut with an audible click. Phil sighed before dissolving into a chuckle. “Mate, you’re not in trouble.” Wilbur blinked a few times to clear his vision. “If you need a place to sleep I can give it to you.”

“Oh, uh,” Wilbur looked back at Tommy. “I think I was supposed to be on night shift.”

“You’ve been on every shift.” Phil rolled his eyes. “You know I could get fined for the hours you’re working? You gotta give yourself a break that isn’t in the same room you work in.”

Chills rolled over Wilbur’s skin, and he pursed his lips until they went white.

“I’m… good,” he started but cringed at how it sounded. “I mean— I just feel natural here, and Tommy obviously needs someone by him…”

Phil took his hand to distract him, and it worked because Wilbur’s focus snapped back over to Phil instead of wandering back over to Tommy.

“Nothing is going to happen to him,” Phil assured with a gentle, but still concerned smile. “He’s completely fine. I know you’re worried about leaving him with anyone else, but in order for you to be at your best, you need to take some breaks for your mental and physical health.” Wilbur bit the inside of his cheek. “You’re getting the day off. You can take my guest bedroom.” Phil fished a pair of keys out of his pocket and forced one of them into Wilbur’s hands before he could protest. “Techno can drive you. Go rest.”

“Phil—”

“This is mandatory.” Phil put his foot down. “You’re sleep deprived and I need you to be on your A-game for the rest of the week, ok?” Wilbur pulled at his hair as he ran his fingers through, but nodded anyway. “Get a solid twelve hours. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Phil,” Wilbur murmured as he walked out of Tommy’s room, but he could feel as if a string was attached to his soul and was trying to pull him back through the doorway.

Techno didn’t even say a word, obviously having already been given the run down from Phil, just took Wilbur’s arm and guided him into the car.

Wilbur was asleep against the window before they even got there.

—

Wilbur’s phone was ringing. That much he knew. The rest of it, not so much. 

He felt like he had been here before. Deja vu tasted like a lemon on his tongue, but he did his best to roll over, groping around for his phone and trying to find out where the ringing was coming from. He managed to grab his little devil box and press it against his ear.

“Wil?” Tommy’s voice came shuttering through the other end. Wilbur was suddenly much more awake.

“What’s up, kid?” Wilbur rubbed at his eyes. “Need something?”

“You just… you aren’t here…” Tommy’s breath shuttered. “You’re always here.”

“Toms…” Wilbur’s anatomy books must have lied to him, because he swore he could feel his heart break. “Phil forced me to take the day off. I need to sleep.”

“Oh,” the note felt flat between them. “Sorry…”

“Not your fault, Tommy.” Wilbur pulled at his hair. He was really thankful for the blackout curtains in this room, but he had no idea what time it was and his circadian rhythm was pretty much dead. “I just have to be ready for next week, right?

From the silence on the other end, it seemed that Tommy was much more nervous about it than he had let on before.

“I’m sorry for waking you.” Tommy’s voice was so small. So small. Unnaturally small. And though there wasn’t much about the boy that was natural, it made Wilbur worry.

“Are you doing alright?” Wilbur asked him, no longer worried about himself at all. “Your breathing sounds a little shallow.”

“I’m alright,” Tommy said. His voice— there was no way he was good. “I don’t want to worry you.”

“You’re worrying me by not telling me what’s wrong.” Wilbur’s chest began to warm, it seemed like Tommy just wanted him. “Did you check your vitals? Is there anyone else in the room?”

“Wil…” Tommy just whined. “I’m just fucking nervous.”

Wilbur’s sympathy had no limits. “It’s not until next week.”

“I’ve been waiting for something like this for three years, Wilbur.” Wilbur could hear the way Tommy shivered. It was always followed by a shallow gasp. “I’m overthinking it.”

“Did Phil walk you through everything that's going to happen?” Tommy hummed a confirmation. “They found you the perfect donor, you have the best doctors in this field, there’s nothing to overthink.” Wilbur’s heart rate was speeding up. “All you have to do is be there.”

“I’m still nervous,” Tommy muttered. “I can’t do anything on the operation table. If someone messes up—”

“No one is going to mess up.” Wilbur shifted until he was sitting on the edge of Phil’s guest bed. “They’ve gone to school for this for years. Phil will be overseeing it himself. They’ve even been practicing.”

“But then what if they don’t mess up, and everything goes perfectly, but my body freaks out and I shut down?” There was an alarm going off at Tommy’s side, heightened heart rate, Wilbur could tell from just the sound. “And they do everything right but I mess it up?”

Wilbur snatched Techno’s phone from the table and was halfway through dialing Phil to get Tommy some help because if he didn’t he would pass out.

“Tommy, listen to me,” Wilbur stated. Where was that other nurse that was supposed to cover for him? Why weren’t they responding? “We can worry about that later, I need you to calm down. You’re going to overwork your lungs. Close your eyes, breathe, I’m calling Phil.”

Phil had heard the last part of the conversation. His footsteps were audible through the halls.

Tommy’s breathing was loud and shallow, but at the very least it was even.

Wilbur stayed on the line until Phil got there and began calming the kid down, and once Wilbur knew the situation was resolved, he went back to the guest room and fell asleep hoping that his worry for Tommy was at least giving him that warm feeling of being loved.

—

“Why are we doing this again?” Phil rubbed at his temple. “Tommy’s not the only person in my facility, you know.”

Techno pushed Phil with his shoulder. “You literally took the day off. You’re helping us plan this surprise party.”

The problem with planning a surprise party for a person who never left the same room was that it was really hard to decorate the room without Tommy knowing.

“Do we really need to reserve an entire spare room? Why can’t we—”

“Phil,” Wilbur glared at him. “We are getting Tommy out of his room for once in his goddamn life.” Wilbur’s chest began to warm, Tommy was thinking about him. Wilbur set down the package of streamers on the table and stood. “Tommy’s up, I’m going to check on him.”

“Imagine having a soulmate,” Techno drawled sarcastically. Wilbur shot an unamused look in his direction. “Cringe.”

“Mate, you’re outnumbered here.” Phil chuckled. “Speaking of, do you think I could invite Kristin to this ‘party’ of yours?”

“Why is that in air quotes?” Wilbur rolled his eyes at Techno’s comment, finally pushing himself out the door to Phil and Techno’s squabbling. He opened Tommy’s door with a short knock, poking his head inside.

Tommy had his arms wrapped around his middle, looking down at the blue sheets with a hard expression.

“You alright, Toms?” Wilbur asked softly, closing the door gently behind him.

Tommy’s expression tightened. He didn’t look up. “I can’t sleep.”

Wilbur blinked. That was a new one. He swore Tommy had been resting when he left the room. “Any reason why?”

“Nerves,” Tommy muttered. “Head’s spinning.”

“You’ve still got three days.” Wilbur sat down at the edge of the bed. Tommy immediately went to reach for his hand, but they hesitated at the last moment, hovering over Wilbur’s fingers.

Wilbur… took off his glove.

It always made his stomach twist when Wilbur broke the rules, but he knew Tommy needed this right now. Tommy’s hand was far warmer than Wilbur’s, and his fingers were softer, not worn away by the wear and tear of life unlike Wilbur’s.

Tommy poked at his fingertips. “You’ve got calluses.”

Wilbur blinked down at his own fingers like he hadn’t realized the calluses were there, despite having them for the better part of eight years.

“Those are from my guitar,” Wilbur hummed. “I write songs.”

“Oh,” Tommy blinked. “I… you haven’t mentioned that before.”

Wilbur smiled sadly. “Haven’t had the time to play since you showed up.” Wilbur squeezed his hand anyway. “But I don’t regret it at all.”

“You should play for me,” Tommy blurted out rather abruptly, and from the blush that rose to his cheeks, he hadn’t meant to say it. “I mean… sometime… later.”

Wilbur’s guitar was still in the back of Phil’s car. He’d grabbed just a few things from his apartment before he drove the two hours with Tommy, and hadn’t been able to leave it behind.

“What about tonight?” Wilbur considered. “I brought it with me, I’d just have to get it from Phil’s car.”

Tommy’s mouth twitched up into a smile. “I’d like that.”

“Consider it done.” Wilbur’s heart swelled at the thought of it. “But until then, you should try to sleep.”

Tommy went back to frowning, though this time it looked more like a pout. “I don’t think I can.”

Wilbur sighed before kicking off his shoes and scooching Tommy over to the side to make space on the bed. Screw every protocol, this child needed comfort.

“I’ll be right here,” Wilbur promised, wrapping an arm around Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy leaned into the comfort like it was what would save him. “I’m not getting up until you do.”

Tommy nodded into his chest, and his breath stuttered, but Wilbur had gotten used to the sound. Tommy liked to breathe in the moment, and his lungs protested, but he wasn’t too bothered by it now.

Wilbur let a kiss rest on Tommy’s curls. “Sleep well.”

Wilbur stayed awake the whole time, feeling as if he had to guard Tommy from the spirits that wanted to seep into his nightmares.

But that night, Tommy woke up and was ushered through the halls in a wheelchair until they got to a spare room, covered in streamers, with real food sitting on the table in the middle. Phil and his wife were trying to get some of the string lights to work, and Techno was putting ice cream away in a freezer.

Tommy broke down but had a smile on his face for the rest of the night.

Even when Wilbur brought out his guitar, Tommy fell asleep again to his singing.

“If I could just break one more night,” Wilbur sang to an audience of just himself long after the others had gone, long after they had moved Tommy back to his room, long after he’d packed up his guitar for the night. “Maybe I could wake up and feel alright.”

He couldn’t help but feel that the words he’d written a while ago matched him more now than they had back then.

“Saline solution,” Wilbur whispered over the humming of machines and the lights of monitors. “To all your problems.”

—

“Wil,” Tommy choked out as the other doctors buzzed by him. “I— I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.”

Wilbur’s own gut was turning, but he wouldn’t dare let it show. “Toms, the doctors have been preparing for this for a month, everything’s going to go right, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Like hell there’s nothing to worry about,” Tommy exclaimed about as loud as his voice could go. “They’re just taking out my lungs and putting in new ones!”

“Lung transplants happen all the time,” Wilbur assured about as loud as he could without his voice wavering. “These surgeons have done it successfully before too.”

“But—”

“Tommy, please,” Wilbur tightened his hand around Tommy’s. “It’s just a transplant. Nothing’s going wrong.”

“You heard what Phil said! I could— my brain could—”

“Phil’s thought about it all since then.” Wilbur needed Tommy to calm down. Tommy had to go into the room in twenty minutes, and the doctors were buzzing more rapidly every minute. “He’s come up with plenty of solutions, and he wants to do it before your lungs expand so much that they might puncture themselves.” Wilbur looked Tommy right in his eyes. “We need to do this, Tommy.”

“But what if I kill you?” Tommy let out a sob, but his lungs contracted dangerously, and he was left gasping and stuttering for breath.

Wilbur put a hand on his chest. “Breathe. No one’s dying today.”

“Wilbur,” Phil got his attention from the corner where he was attaching a plastic shield over his face. “We have to get going.”

Tommy shuttered in his bed, tears leaking out of his eyes.

Wilbur couldn’t name the emotion in his chest. It was an incredibly human feeling, making him think he was approaching a predator and he was the prey. The sinking feeling like being tossed around in a storm. He could either duck beneath the waves or find a piece of wood and drift aimlessly until he anchored himself to land.

“Tommy,” Wilbur began but didn’t know how to end it. It just teetered off into silence.

“Wilbur,” Tommy told him back, eyes red but focused on him and him alone.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” It was all he could do. Assurance would just be denied, and any dismissal of worry wouldn’t help any more now than it would have a week ago.

Tommy nodded, squeezing Wilbur’s hand tight and his eyes shut.

Wilbur reached up to the IV with one last squeeze of his hand.

He was there until Tommy went under.

—

Five hours. It had been five hours.

Wilbur was on the bed in Tommy’s room. It felt wrong without Tommy there, but it was where his mind could be the stillest.

Techno was at his side, having just put in their third movie. Wilbur didn’t even know what the first two were. His heart was beating so fast that he was stuck in that weird limbo between being aware and passing out.

He’d gotten so used to the warm feeling in his chest popping up every once in a while. Even while Tommy was sleeping Wilbur would feel that little spark that said Tommy was thinking about him. Now, there was simply nothing.

Techno was worried about him, sure, but he couldn’t do much. He could just be there next to him, turning on movie after movie to try and distract him from the unending worry that plagued his mind.

The first shock hit after five hours, and Wilbur felt it ripple through him. Techno was immediately grasping onto his shoulder, sitting him back and asking him to breathe, to explain what was wrong, to just say something .

Wilbur’s heart had stuttered.

His heart had stopped for just a second.

Warning sirens were going off through his brain like every human instinct had woken up from its long hibernation and had started screaming that Wilbur’s other half was in danger.

“—’re scaring me, Wil,” Techno was speaking through the alarm bells. “Say something.”

“ Tommy ,” was all he managed to choke out, and everything else was abandoned. The screen in front of them went dark, and Techno was holding Wilbur close.

It felt almost restraining, like he was keeping Wilbur from running to Tommy’s aid. The logical part of his brain knew Wilbur couldn’t have stood if he wanted to; he was too pumped full of adrenaline to even figure out which way was up.

From there, it wasn’t so much that Wilbur’s heart skipped beats, but that they were too slow, far too slow. He could barely focus on the world around them, black spots dancing around every time he opened his eyes. His mind was cycling memories of Tommy as if probing him to run toward him, while in the background his own song looped the chorus over and over again until it was just ringing in his ears.

Six hours. Seven.

Techno was trying to get him to eat, to talk, and Wilbur couldn’t move, could barely think about doing anything else but being at Tommy’s side.

Eight. Nine.

They should have been done by now. Phil said it could have only gone longer than eight hours if something went wrong. But Wilbur was still alive, and that meant Tommy was too, but something had to have happened that they weren’t expecting.

There were several shocks that rippled through the ninth hour. Whether they be heart palpitations or Wilbur would full-on pass out for a few seconds, things were not going well.

And Wilbur was fine. It was all Tommy. Wilbur got all of the repercussions and none of the pain.

Tommy, no matter how unconscious he may be, was suffering.

Techno got a call at the start of the tenth hour. Wilbur was just aware enough to listen.

“How’s Wilbur?” Phil was saying on the other side, Techno had so graciously placed the device on speaker.

“Unresponsive and shaky,” Techno answered with tension in his voice. “He’s having some heart palpitations, passed out a few times.”

“Conscious now?”

“Yes, he’s alright currently.”

Phil breathed a bit over the phone, though it sounded less like relief and more like frustration.

“We’ve tried a lot to keep things from going south, but Tommy’s body is just not having it,” Phil started explaining without a prompt. “We had to stop the operation and hook him to a ventilator. We haven’t had to use the defibrillator, which is a godsend because I’m not sure he’d come back if we did.”

“Did you manage to get anything done?”

“We took out and put in both of the lungs, Tommy’s body is just rejecting them and refuses to use them.” Phil’s voice was cracking at some parts. He’d been working all day as the head surgeon. “It’s exactly what I was afraid of. I’m not sure how long his lungs will continue to accept the ventilator's help, those machines do extreme things to small bodies.”

“How do you ease him off the machine?”

“Just bit by bit.” Wilbur was starting to shiver. “It could take weeks to get him off of it, if he accepts the help in the long term at all.”

“Wil?” Techno asked him. Wilbur was shaking. He was so tired. “Wilbur, what’s wrong?”

“What’s going on?” Phil asked for the other side, already rushing to get back to Tommy, though he probably didn’t get far.

“Wilbur’s shaking,” Techno stated. His eyes switched to that look he got when he was working, assessing the situation, finding out exactly what was going on as quickly as he could. “Full body shakes, unresponsive though aware. Some kind of mixture of trauma response and exhaustion it looks like.”

“Tommy’s blood pressure just went down another notch, I’d bet it’s more the second.”
Wilbur didn’t know what it was, he just wanted it to be over.

He wanted to be back with Tommy. He cursed himself for not letting the kid curl up at his side more often. He had only a few memories to look back on to imagine the comfort, though his brain was weakened enough that he was more likely hallucinating the scene than anything.

“Why is it affecting him? They shouldn’t share anything except for feelings… right?”

“I can’t be sure, Tech.” Phil cussed lightly under his breath as he did something quickly, the beeps of a heart monitor lighting up through the speaker. “Wilbur was already nervous, every little thing he might be receiving from Tommy is just being heightened.”

“I don’t know how to help him any more than this.” Techno tried to get Wilbur to sit up a little more. Wilbur clenched his eyes shut and dug his fingers in further. He couldn’t have Techno move. He’d ruin the illusion. “He won’t eat, his eyes have been wide open this entire time. His body’s exhausted.”

There was hesitation on Phil’s end. “It won’t be pretty but… we may just have to put Wilbur under until Tommy’s stable.”

“What? Phil—”

“I’m certain that if Wilbur was responsive, he’d also want to sleep for a few hours, and he won’t get that if he’s terrified out of his mind.”

“I don’t like that idea, Phil.”

Phil sighed heavily into the speaker. “Then you decide what to do. I have to get back to Tommy, I was just trying to make sure Wilbur wasn’t panicking. Keep me updated, I’ll do the same.”

Techno sighed in return. “Ok.”

“Talk to you soon.”

It was after another movie and a few more of Wilbur’s silent but terrifying episodes of panic that Techno did eventually break out a sleeping pill. Wilbur gave him permission after some struggle with his limbs.

He wasn’t sure if it was rest. Wilbur just felt dead.

—

His body was sore when he opened his eyes. It wasn’t a pleasant awakening, his body jolting awake when his heart skipped again. His chest was ice cold, and checking the clock, it had been almost a full day since the start of Tommy’s operation.

He brought his arms around himself, the thin hospital blanket not helping with Wilbur’s chills. They almost hurt, the way they wracked his body. He couldn’t be sure what they were from. Had he worked himself up to the point of terrified shutters, were they a result of Wilbur and Tommy’s shared exhaustion, or was this just an ailment he had contracted somewhere along the way?

There was a note next to him from Techno, asking Wilbur to call when he woke. Wilbur glanced at it warily. It was nothing against Techno, but Wilbur wasn’t sure if he was ready for people yet.

Techno would have news about Tommy, but Wilbur didn’t think he could handle whatever news came through just yet.

He was alive at least. Tommy was alive because Wilbur was alive.

Wilbur surveyed the extra room, now with a cot in the center that Wilbur was laying on. The string lights that had decorated Tommy’s little party four nights before were still hanging, and the mini fridge and freezer were plugged into the corner. The thought of food was appalling at the moment.

He needed to know what was going on with Tommy.

Wilbur picked up his phone and dialed Techno.

“Good morning, Wil,” Techno greeted, though there was something strained about his voice. “Feeling ok now?”

“Not really,” Wilbur choked out. “Tommy.”

That was all Techno needed. “Tommy’s as alright as he can be. He’s on a ventilator, and his body is freaking out at the new lungs he has, but the operation was a success. His new lungs work, he just has to figure out how to use them.”

Wilbur swallowed down bile. “There’s something else.”

Techno sighed through the phone, something sad, like he was already mourning. Wilbur’s soul was cracking at the very thought. “Tommy’s currently comatose. They have no idea when he’ll wake.”

“If” went unsaid, but it was still heard between them.

Wilbur’s gut was churning. He had to lay back down and close his eyes to keep the world within reach. The sun from the window tore at his eyes and that hollow feeling in his chest was slowly scooping away at his heart.

“Can I see him?”

The silence he received was not comforting.

“I’ll ask Phil, but prepare yourself for a no.” Wilbur ground his teeth together until they ached, just so he could focus on a different bit of pain. “Tommy’s in a very fragile state. Any outside contact could kill him.”

“But I’m me, ” Wilbur whined. “I’m his. ”

And I work here, Wilbur thought afterward, but it didn’t cross his mind at the moment.

“I’ll ask Phil,” Techno assured. “Just stay in bed, alright? Drink some water. Let your mind turn off for a bit.”

“I want to see him,” Wilbur whispered because if his voice went any louder it would crack and fall.

“I know, Wil.” Techno kept up with Wilbur’s shattered thoughts. “You will. Eventually.”

“Can you stay with me?” Wilbur was taking back everything he had thought about not being ready for people, he needed someone close. “Can you…?”

“I have a shift in an hour,” Techno sighed. “I’ll be done around four. Can you wait until then or do you need a nurse in the room with you?”

Wilbur let his head bounce against the pillow, letting his eyes slip closed so the tears didn’t slip out. He wasn’t dying. He was fine. He was a little sore but it wasn’t from him , it was all Tommy’s pain.

He didn’t want to take down another nurse. He was already off of the table.

“I’ll be alright,” Wilbur promised himself more than Techno. “I’ll live.”

“Keep being strong,” Techno told him, but it wasn't real. It was all through this buzzy static that didn’t bare real meaning. “For Tommy, yeah?”

“For Tommy,” Wilbur breathed.

He didn’t hear Techno’s goodbye. His chest hurt and it wasn’t liking how it was being ignored. Wilbur curled up on himself, tucking his precious ribcage between his arms and letting his head hang down. He just needed a little more sleep, and then Phil would be around to take him to Tommy, and everything would be ok again.

—

When Wilbur set eyes on Tommy, his chest lightened just enough for him to take a full breath in.

He let it out again in a half-sob, both out of relief and the state that he was seeing his kid in.

Tommy was paper-white, unmoving beside the rise and fall of his chest. Wilbur pressed down on the pulse point when he got close enough, feeling the soft flutter under his skin. There were numerous tubes and wires snaked around Tommy’s form, and though Wilbur could name every one of them if he concentrated, all he saw was Tommy’s face.

It was resting, but not peacefully. Wilbur doubted that anyone else could see it, but he’d been around Tommy long enough to know the difference between rest and unconsciousness. There was a line of tension right between his eyebrows, and his fingers weren’t relaxed, they were tensed.

Tommy was in pain.

Wilbur glanced up to the IV. It was clear, unnamable liquid, and Wilbur’s vision was blurred far too much for him to tell what was in it.

“What’s in the IV?” He asked Phil, who was talking quietly to the nurse in the corner of the room. At Wilbur’s question, he walked forward and sat at his side in the other empty chair.

“Saline solution,” Phil said simply. “Some vitamins.”

“No pain medication?”

Phil shook his head. “He’d got a lot in him right now, we didn’t want to risk anything else. He’s comatose anyway, he can’t feel anything.”

Wilbur two minutes ago would have assumed Phil was right, but Wilbur now knew otherwise.

“That’s not true.” His voice dropped down a volume level. “He’s in pain.”

Phil’s hands twitched. “I don’t think he is, Wil. You’re psyching yourself out.”

“I’m not ,” Wilbur stated more harshly. “There’s a tension line at his eyebrows, and his hands—”

“Wil,” Phil cut him off. “He can’t feel anything. You’re just worried about him.”

Now was not the time to try and gaslight him.

“I know him.” Wilbur hissed. “I know him and you don’t. He’s feeling something. ”

Phil didn’t say anything. He looked at Wilbur and looked at Tommy, and then looked back at Wilbur. He rubbed a hand at his face before standing up.

“We aren’t giving him anything,” Phil said softer than before. “Now is not the time to risk a bad reaction to a pain suppressor. I’m sorry.”

But he was suffering.

The dull ache in Wilbur’s chest that had been there all morning felt like a boulder crushing his rib cage. Breathing was painful, but all he could do was press his finger more harshly to Tommy’s pulse point and try to breathe.

Phil and the nurse started to talk again. Wilbur didn’t bother paying attention to them, letting his ears burn as they tried to find his and Tommy’s frequency at the level they shared when they were thinking about each other. Wilbur’s chest remained cold and aching.

Then his heart skipped a beat, and he heard it this time.

The heart monitor wailed for just a brief second before resuming its song. Wilbur was too out of it to recognize that his heart had skipped right along with Tommy’s, and Phil and the nurse were racing to their sides, checking what was wrong.

Wilbur blinked the haze away but ignored Phil’s questions. He pushed himself back up with his arms— he must have passed out for a second again— and just worked to get his breathing normal.

Wilbur couldn’t help but think that maybe next time Tommy’s heart wouldn’t start back up again, and Wilbur would be completely useless at his side.

The brief crisis at least meant that Phil didn’t make Wilbur move, and he stayed by Tommy’s side far after Techno had finished his shift, and the sun had long set. Meal chances had come and gone, and Wilbur was still here at Tommy’s side, waiting.

Waiting for what was what he didn’t know.

—

Wilbur stared at his soul mark in the mirror.

A bright sun, surrounded by flowing lines and numerous small symbols. Everyone got their soul marks read at an early age, and again when they actually found their soulmate to compare the matching lines.

Wilbur remembered his vividly, sitting in front of the lady as she explained her interpretation of the signs that described his relationship with his life partner.

The sun, first and foremost, represented optimism and the fruitfulness of connection. When Wilbur and his unknown soulmate at the time would spend time together, it would brighten their days. They would forget about sleep and basic body functions because they would get their energy from each other. They would always see a good future when they were together, with hope as a standing factor between them.

Then there were the smaller symbols, the ones that changed with every lifetime. A paw: companionship and loyalty. A swirling heart: platonic love, friendship. A phoenix: perseverance and persistence through pain.

Then, the fern.

The woman had hesitated, and Wilbur had questioned why. Ferns were good plants, a pretty symbol that no one else had, not even his parents. He had liked his special symbol, why was she hesitating?

This is a very rare design, she’d said. With a few interpretations. But in this position… eternal youth.

He hadn’t understood it then.

He understood it now.

He sat back down at Tommy’s side that night, watching his uneven breaths rise and fall. His heart had entered one of its steady bouts, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“I have to use the restroom,” the nurse spoke up. Wilbur tilted his head toward her. “I’ll be back in just two minutes.”

He nodded, letting her go. The room was left with him and Tommy.

“You were so strong,” Wilbur whispered to him, holding Tommy’s hand. His chest wouldn’t feel warm again, not until the next life. “I know you don’t want this, Toms, but… it’s alright. I don’t have too much with me, so I don’t have much to lose.” He tightened his hand. “Just you.”

His heart was racing, but his mind was clear for the first time in days.

“You were just holding on for me,” Wilbur told him. “Thank you for that, but we tried… and… things don’t always work out the first time.” He breathed in, breathed out. He didn’t want Tommy to have a burden anymore.

He didn’t want to live with false hope. He had real hope before, but now that it was spelled out to him, now that it was right in front of him, he knew it was futile.

Tommy was in pain. There was no reason to continue if it never lessened. The outcome would be the same either way.

After ages of not knowing what eternal youth meant on his soul mark, he’d figured it out.

Right along with the phoenix, the paw, and most definitely the heart.

Wilbur pushed himself up from the chair, pulling out the drawer he’d left the needle in. He considered its weight, settling back down at Tommy’s bedside.

He only had another minute to commit to it.

“I wish you had a better life.” Wilbur reached over to Tommy’s chest, revealing the soul mark that mirrored his own. “But I’m glad I met you. And… I’ll see you in the next life, ok? We’ll find each other even earlier.”

Breathe out, breathe in.

He didn’t even wince.

“It’s not your fault,” he told Tommy, certain the kid could hear him. “You didn’t deserve this. Life will be better next time.”

Breathe out, breathe in.

Wilbur closed his eyes.

“I love you,” Wilbur promised. “Come and find me when you can.”

Breathe out.