Work Text:
Blood droplets splattered the handkerchief as Tommy tried to relieve the ache in his lungs. It had been forever since his lungs began to hurt. It was a vague memory the first time he coughed up blood, bending over a trash can in an alleyway. Being homeless had been a miserable experience: 0/10 wouldn’t recommend. But eventually, after trying to survive on odd jobs and scraps, Tommy had convinced the matron of the castle to let him work. His wages were higher than any other job he had done and he got a place to sleep.
But…his lungs never stopped hurting and the blood never stopped coming around, especially when he was alone. It was worse when flowers would appear, little yellow roses and daisies. He had to hide those in the garden. Slipping in and burying the bloodied flower buds then leaving before someone might notice. (The garden was always empty though.)
The coughing fit resided and he pocketed the old cloth. Tommy still had several windows to clean after all, and anything else was less important. He mentally went through his day as he wiped away the suds of soapy water. Sweeping, gathering the other servants’ laundry, and then he could be on leave.
He hummed as he worked, despite a raw throat. The idea of resting in his special spot pushed him forward. Wiping all the designated windows with his rag and bucket full of water.
The rest of the chores passed in a similar way. Continuing on with a smile, and a few coughing fits, he finished them all. Other servants smiled and waved as he passed by. Ms. Niki, one of the cooks, gave him a sweet roll to munch on as he passed by. (He figured it was out of pity for his skinny figure, but he still appreciated it.)
Finally, after all his chores were done and Puffy gave Tommy freedom from work, the kid made a dash to the empty garden. He ignored the patch of dirt from last night and went straight to the large tree. (Nightmares had flooded his mouth with flowers.)
It was a large, old oak that had such amazing branches that he could perch on them. Or, if he was tired, like he was at the moment, he could simply enjoy the gentle breeze in the oak’s shade. (His strength had begun faltering lately.)
He stared at his trembling hands, exhausted from all his work. So focused on trying to make them stop, he fails to notice the swaying branches dip with an unusual weight. There was a large creaking noise above him, that finally got Tommy’s attention and he jerked upwards to see.
Sparkling blue eyes met swirling golden brown ones, and for a moment, the universe froze. Eternity flashed between the two, before the branch made a final protest.
The other boy cried out as he fell, but Tommy was too stunned to do anything besides struggle to his feet. (He was still in awe of even the person’s clothes. They looked quite nice compared to his own ratty tunic and trousers.)
“Ouch.” Brown curls hid those incredible eyes as Tommy got closer. “That really hurt my pride.” He looked up at Tommy, pausing. “What’s your name?”
“ ‘m Tommy.” He responded, rather shy compared to his normal boisterous personality.
“Nice to meet you.” And he had such a stunning smile. “I’m Wilbur.”
༄✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚༄
Despite never doing it this late in the day before, Wilbur’s plan worked perfectly. All he had to do was say he was tired, then when no one was close enough to hear, the teen climbed down his mother’s oak tree. Being skinny helped him weave through the branches, however, there was one unexpected part.
Usually his mother’s garden was empty, left to become overgrown after she died. His father never even came around anymore. (It had been thirteen years, but still.)
There was someone there, resting below the tree. And Wilbur couldn’t help but freeze as those eyes met his. They looked so young, but so tired. (They were the eyes of someone who’s ready to rest forever…but in the body of a child…)
His hesitation caused his slip up, but despite the blow to his pride and his backside, Wilbur was more interested in the kid. (He looked so young-)
He learned that Tommy was a servant that often did odd jobs around the castle. Which would explain why a busy prince would never meet the kid. He didn’t seem to recognize Wilbur’s name, which was good, since that kept Wilbur from being caught out of his room. (He was careful to keep the conversation away from why he was in the garden.)
“I have to go.” Tommy said as evening neared. The eight year old had lost his tired look, and appeared much happier. “I have to help in the kitchens.”
“Alright, I have to get back as well. It was nice meeting you.” Wilbur smiled at the kid. (He was already attached, wasn’t he?)
“Bye, Wilba!” The other waved as he dashed back inside, looking much happier.
For some reason, as he climbed the tree, Wilbur couldn’t help but wonder if they would meet again. Tommy, somehow, made his shoulders feel lighter. Maybe, just maybe, they could be each other’s relief system. (He tried to stop from hoping.)
༄✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚༄
Tommy was rather surprised to find his new acquaintance in the garden again. He had been unsure if they would meet again, but here they were.
After that, they continued to meet, almost everyday. Wilbur would wave off any questions about how he got there, and launch into some topic he loved to discuss.
(“No, you gotta believe me, Toms. Anteaters are the bane of all existence. There is nothing more horrific than their spiny tails and long snouts!”
“I heard you the first time, big man! But I've never seen one, so how would I know?!”
“...”
“...”
“I’m getting the book of animals and then you’ll see!-”)
Now Tommy had something actually worth getting out of bed for. And, almost best of all, the coughing had lessened, meaning he didn’t have to hide it so much. Tommy found himself smiling more than he could ever remember. Did he get in trouble for taking long breaks? Maybe once, but seeing Wilbur’s soft smiles and sparkling golden eyes made it all worth it.
Then, he learned about music!
(“What’s that?” The tree rustled as Wilbur climbed down with something strapped to his back.
“It’s my guitar! I thought maybe you could listen to my songs? I need a new audience.” Tommy couldn’t help but smile as the other sat down.
“Okay! But, what’s a song?”
“...” “I’m going to murder something.”
“What?”
“Nevermind, just listen-”)
Those afternoons were the best because Tommy could just let the notes of Wilbur’s song float around him, cradling him in their melody. And when Wilbur would sing? It felt like the whole garden sang along.
However, it was the moments when Wilbur got all weird that confused Tommy the most. The teen would coo and carefully comb through Tommy’s mess of blonde curls when his eyes drooped in sleepiness. Or the little squeezes on his hand if Tommy told Wilbur he was worried. But it all crescendoed late one afternoon…
(“I’ll see you tomorrow, Toms.” Wilbur said as he got up to leave. He hesitated though before climbing. “Could-could I hug you?”
Tommy only blinked in pure confusion. “What’s a hug?”
Then Wilbur had that look on his face that screamed sadness, only increasing Tommy’s puzzlement.
“I’ll show you.”
Then Tommy’s heart almost exploded with some unnamed feeling as he was enveloped in warm arms and held there. He felt safe and, for those few moments, the ache in his lungs evaporated. But Wilbur released him, leaving only the residue of that incredible feeling.
“Bye, Tommy. I-” But the teen cut off before turning and starting to climb. Tommy could only wonder what he had wanted to say.)
༄✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚༄
It had been a nightmare. Echoes of the old village baker’s screams (hitting him with each word), rattled in Tommy’s ears. He escaped the room he shared with the other servants, just as he had escaped the village years ago. Which leads to now, in the garden, as he’s hacking up the same yellow flower petals as before. ( “You’re useless! No one likes you! You deserve no kindness, especially from me, you, vile!” *kick* “Dirty!” *stomp* “Rat!” *slam* )
Tommy choked on several roses as the phantom pains danced across his skin and in his body. He sat back on his heels, trying to ignore the blood dripping from his mouth. (Tried to just not think.)
The moon’s gentle lighting illuminated the garden through the tree. He blinked at it, wondering why it looked so happy when he was in so much pain. The reminder of the ache brought it forwards again. Tommy began to choke on more blood, not noticing the quiet steps.
“Tommy?” He jerks upwards away from the gravel, surprised to find Wilbur standing on the path. “Tommy!” The teen cried, leaping over the flowers. He stumbled back in surprise as Wilbur quickly wrapped him in a hug. “Are you okay? We need to get you to the medical wing. Maybe they can help. Are they awake-”
Wilbur was muttering, but Tommy could only feel relief as the ache faded, leaving only traces. That intricate, comforting, warmth spread along his limbs as Tommy slumped in the other’s hold. (He felt bad about the blood still trickling from his mouth onto Wil’s shirt.)
“Tommy?!” Oh, he sounded panicked. Maybe something was wrong? “Tommy! Hey, stay awake!” Cool hands touched his face. “Tommy, please! Stay with me! I love you, okay?! Please.” Wilbur whimpered the last word as Tommy was once again held close.
But the kid was in shock because he had said that-that he loved Tommy. (And that scared him.)
“I’m here.” He let out a hoarse reply, finally shaking away the surprise. “I’m okay.” He breathed out, soaking in the warmth of Wilbur’s (no, his brother’s) hug.
They sat there for what felt like hours, receiving and giving hope to each other. Exhausted and cold from the night air, Tommy snuggled closer to the other. Somehow that broke Wilbur’s trance.
“Tommy?” His voice sounded small, making awareness spike at the kid’s mind. “W-why were you coughing up so much” (a choked up noise) “blood?” Tommy jerked upwards, slightly wary, but more curious why Wilbur sounded so scared.
“I-” He hesitated. Tommy could lie, build up all the walls he had let down the past so many weeks. Or… “I don’t know. It’s happened ever since I was little.” He stared at his hands, afraid of Wilbur’s reaction to his words.
“Tommy…” And Wilbur sounded so sad, making Tommy’s eyes sting a bit, but he wouldn’t look. At least he wasn’t until a gentle hand moved his chin. “Tommy, I love you so much.” (The ache eased a bit.) “Please come see the castle medic with me. I don’t-you can’t die.” Desperation was very clear in his eyes and voice. “I can’t lose anyone else.” The last part was whispered, so Tommy kindly ignored it.
“I’m not dying! I promise.” He cried passionately. The doubt and worry in Wilbur’s eyes scratched some odd itch inside.
“I-” Wilbur looked like he wanted to argue, but both were exhausted now. “Okay.” He whispered, giving a big squeeze to the kid. “But promise me that if it gets worse, you’ll tell me.”
“I promise.” Tommy said with conviction.
Wilbur practically crushed the kid into his chest, humming quietly. And for once, all Tommy could feel was love. (And it felt right .)
༄✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚༄
If Tommy thought Wilbur was clingy before, he was even more so now. Instead of just hanging out for hours in the garden, the teen followed him practically everywhere. Any chore, except around other people, Wilbur was there. (He helped sometimes, though Tommy had to teach him everything. It was odd that he could hardly clean a window, but could mouth off science facts with ease.)
And Tommy understood a little, because sometimes he did have coughing fits. But he wasn’t about to keel over. So Wilbur was just kind of hovering anxiously for no reason.
It was only a week into this new form of clinginess when all the puzzle pieces aligned. Tommy had always been a little suspicious of all of Wilbur’s knowledge, free time and good clothes. (It was rather funny how it came together though.)
“Tommy! Let me brush your hair!” Wilbur whined, slumping against the grass dramatically. They were relaxing in the garden after the morning chores.
“I refuse. My hair is the perfect mix of windswept and curly.” Tommy responded, huffing as Wilbur whined again.
“But Tommy…” The teen draped himself over Tommy’s lap. “It’ll be so soft and fluffy when I'm done.” Tommy only stuck his tongue out at Wilbur’s exasperated expression. “Please, little brother-”
“WILBUR SOOT CRAFT!” A voice echoed through the entirety of the area.
Wilbur jolted upwards, staring in something akin to horror at the man standing at the entrance of the garden. Elegant green robes and blonde hair. Tommy himself shivered a little when those icy eyes met his own.
“He-ey, Dad.” Wilbur greeted him rather nervously. “How, um, how have you been?” The teen chuckled as the other stepped closer.
“I’d be much better if my son wasn’t skipping all his classes and family meals for a week.” The man had a certain edge in his tone that made Tommy feel nervous. “And, to top it off, none of your friends have even seen you lately, so you went practically missing!”
“I’ve been busy, okay?” Wilbur offered in explanation, whilst trying to shield Tommy a little.
“We’ve had this discussion.” The man sighed. “You need to tell someone where you are, especially if you’re alone. You’re a prince, Wilbur! I shouldn’t have to tell you this. What if something happened?” He continued to speak but Tommy was caught on the part where he said Wilbur was a prince. (His brother? A prince?)
He eyed the teen with a new curiosity, noting the serious look on Wilbur’s face.
“I understand, Dad. But I was worried you wouldn’t approve.” The vulnerability seemed to strike a chord in the regal figure. (If Wilbur’s a prince, then-) Tommy quickly averted his eyes, bowing his head, when the man looked at him again.
“Wilbur.” His voice was much softer now. “I would never stop you from doing something you truly wanted to do. Especially if it helps someone.” Tommy looks up shyly, meeting those eyes again. “Hello, mate. What’s your name?”
“Tommy.” Wilbur squeezed his hand gently as he responded.
“It’s nice to meet you, mate.” A gentle smile graced his face. “I’m Phil.”
“Alright, you’ve met now. Can you leave please?” Wilbur huffed, jealous of something.
“Wilbur, all of us are worried about you.” The teen clammed up, turning a little red. “And you have royal duties to attend to.”
“I’ll only go if you adopt Tommy.” Tommy’s jaw dropped at the idea of it. (A family. One that wanted him.)
“I-mate, I can’t just adopt him. What about his family?” Phil looked super confused at Wilbur’s statement.
“He’s alone and sick and I’m not letting anyone die again.” Wilbur sniffled a little, making the other two immediately hug him. (It hit Tommy, at that moment, that he somehow slotted perfectly in Wilbur’s arms.)
“Okay, Wil. We’ll take care of him, okay?” Phil squeezed the two tight in his embrace.
Wilbur nodded, hugging Tommy close, like the kid might fade away. No aches invaded the amazing love that swarmed him. Everything was right .
And that’s how Tommy became a prince. (But most importantly, he was loved.)