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“Boys?! Are you awake? Breakfast’s ready!”
Tubbo blinked blearily, rubbing at his eyes. “J-just woke up. We’ll be right down!”
“Speak for yourself,” Tommy grouched from where he lay in his bed, twisted comfortably in the covers. “It’s a Saturday - I’m gonna lie in.”
Tubbo pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Then I’ll eat your share.”
“That’s not fair!”
“You snooze you lose - literally, in this case. I will eat your pancakes and I will laugh.”
“You’re the worst.”
“I know,” Tubbo grinned. “Come on, get up!”
“Fine,” Tommy groaned. “Prime, you’re relentless.”
Tubbo just smiled. Perhaps he should be more careful in the way he spoke to the members of Phil’s house - after all, it was Tommy’s bedroom floor he was sleeping on. It was their space he was invading.
For the first few days after Phil had brought him home, shaking with fright and leftover adrenalin, Tubbo had tried to be what they wanted - what he thought they wanted - him to be. He knew how to be invisible, thanks to his father, but he wanted to do better than that, be better than that. He had feared his father. But he loved Phil. He’d long accepted he could never be good enough for Schlatt. But he wanted so badly to be good enough for Phil.
It wasn’t until Phil had found him late one night, scrubbing his fingers raw in the kitchen sink, that he stopped. Phil had taken his reddened hands in his and explained to him that he didn’t need to do anything to earn his place. They were family - and Phil loved him. Tubbo teared up at that and the dam broke when Phil gently told him that all they wanted from him was for him to be himself.
And they made it so easy to be himself around them. In a way he had never had felt safe enough to do in the penthouse with Schlatt. Phil’s tiny fourth-floor apartment felt like the most wonderful place in the world - light and spacious - it was so easy to breathe here. Silences were comfortable, not suffocating. Even when the whole family was gathered in the small living room, an experience that should have been something close to claustrophobic, Tubbo had never felt more relaxed - more free. Every day in the Craft household was like a breath of fresh air.
So he hopped out of bed, stuffing his phone into his pajama trouser pocket before tugging Tommy after him as they made their way downstairs. Tommy slumped into a chair at the table, head slamming down. Phil laughed from where he stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a spatula.
Tubbo had no idea whether or not Phil would be considered a good cook. He probably wasn’t the best person to measure something like that anyway, considering that, until Phil, most of the meals he had eaten were made by five-star chefs. It didn’t matter. As far as Tubbo was concerned, Phil was the best cook in the world. He’d always thought the saying that ‘the most important ingredient is love’ was nonsense until he’d tried Phil’s homemade food.
He slid into another seat, snorting as Tommy swatted at Wilbur’s hand, the older boy trying to ruffle his brother’s already-messy hair. “F*ck off Wil’.”
“Grumpy child.”
“It’s too early.”
Wilbur flicked his forehead. “It’s a Saturday. Carpe diem! Seize the day!”
Tommy gave him a withering glare. “Oh yeah? And what are you doing today?”
“...Going to work?” Wilbur chuckled, indicating his uniform. “The building gets deep-cleaned on the third Saturday of every month, remember?”
Tubbo blinked. “It does?”
Wilbur shrugged. “Seems a bit extreme if you ask me, but… the CEO’s a germaphobe apparently. So, six-day week every four weeks or so it is - you must remember! It fell on Christmas Eve last year?”
Tubbo felt his eyebrows lift. “They made you work Christmas Eve?”
Wilbur shrugged. “They made everyone work that day. Nothing special about me. I tried to get out of it but… well, y’know. I need the job.”
Tubbo bit his lip. It - it was strange, to hear Tommy’s family talk about the way their bosses treated them, the people higher up on the pecking order. In times like these, Tubbo was acutely aware of just how privileged his upbringing had been. It made him a little uncomfortable to think of the way people of his ‘class’ treated Phil and his children - Tubbo’s family. His uncle and cousins.
Thankfully he was spared from having to speak any more by Phil, who placed a plate of pancakes on the table. “There we go!” He checked his watch. “Make sure to save at least two or three for Techno - Friday nights are late shifts, but he should be home soon.”
“Will do Dad,” Wilbur nodded, grabbing a couple of pancakes. Tubbo waited his turn, serving himself and then slapping a pancake onto Tommy’s plate. “Eat that.”
“Mmph,” Tommy grunted, picking up a fork and stabbing it rather aggressively into the pancake. Tubbo laughed as he watched.
Wilbur lifted the carton. “Orange juice Tubbo?”
“Sure, thanks,” Tubbo smiled, sliding his glass over to the older boy. The orange juice in Phil’s house was the cheap, sort of… watery kind. By all accounts, it was pretty dull - some would even say sour . But Tubbo had always felt that glass of orange juice in Phil’s house in the morning was so much brighter and sweeter than anything anywhere else.
A key scraped in the front door and Phil lifted his head. “Techno? Is that you?”
There was no response, but that wasn’t unusual. Techno was always exhausted at the end of a late-night shift at the nightclub - he usually grabbed whatever was on offer for breakfast as his dinner before collapsing into his bed.
However, when he came into the kitchen, Tubbo - along with everyone else in the room - immediately noticed something was wrong.
Techno always looked tired after a shift, but - he didn’t look like this. He looked… drained, his posture slumped, eyes hollow and red - it - it almost looked like he’d been crying. Techno . Crying.
Phil immediately walked to his son’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Techno? Is everything okay?”
Techno’s face crumpled.
“I got fired.”
Silence fell across the room. Techno’s head hung low. “I - I’m sorry, I - I - I’m so sorry -”
Tubbo felt his heart clench. Techno was apologising - to Phil. Was this when Phil’s kindness finally fell apart? Tubbo knew how parents felt about failure - he had been petrified of bringing Schlatt a report card with anything lower than an A, terrified of the harsh words that would come his way. Would Phil be the same? Was this where Phil’s patience ran out - where he raised his voice and got mad? Tubbo didn’t want to see it - he didn’t want to be in the same room as an angry adult - he didn’t -
“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay,” Phil said gently. “It’s alright.”
Techno let out a sob, folding further.
Phil caught him, guiding Techno to bury his head in his shoulder, a hand protectively resting over his son’s head, the other rubbing small circles into his back.
“It’s okay,” he said softly, soothingly . “It’s okay, I’m not mad. No one’s mad.”
Tubbo glanced over at his cousins. Wilbur and Tommy both looked concerned. Wilbur’s face was especially grim. Tubbo knew what he was thinking - he knew how much the family needed the money that came from Technoblade’s job.
Especially now that Tubbo was living with them. A drain on their resources.
“I’m - I’m really sorry,” Techno choked out. “I - I don’t - I don’t even know what I did wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Phil said softly.
“I - I’m sorry -”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“You - y-you don’t know that.”
Phil pulled away from the embrace and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, brushing loose hair out of Technoblade’s tear-stained face. “I know that you worked at that club for years without a single complaint against you. I know you’ve been a good employee for them. And I know you’ll be able to find another job, okay?”
Techno wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “I - I g-guess.”
Phil smiled sympathetically. “Do you want something to eat before you sleep? I made pancakes.”
Techno gave him a watery smile. “P-pancakes would be good.”
Phil guided him into a chair and Tommy slid the syrup in his direction. Tubbo had to smile at the sacrificial gesture.
Wilbur’s phone, which had been sitting face-down on the table, suddenly buzzed. Wilbur flipped it over, standing up as he read the caller ID. “F*ck - I have to take this. It’s work - I’ll be right back. Sorry guys.”
“No worries,” Phil smiled.
Wilbur nodded and slipped out of the room, phone already pressed to his ear.
Techno dug into the pancakes Phil had placed on his plate, his dad sitting beside him and helping himself to a pancake too, nodding across the table and Tommy and Tubbo. “What are you two going to do today?”
Tommy waggled a fork in Tubbo’s direction. “I dunno. But Tubbo was all excited to wake up this morning.”
“Someone promised me we could visit the automobile museum today,” Tubbo grinned. Since he was no longer living under his father’s roof, Tommy had made him make a list of all the things he’d ever wanted to do, all the places he’d wanted to visit, but was never allowed to. This had been first on Tubbo’s list, and despite his initial reluctance to write it, he had to admit he was looking forward to this trip.
Phil smiled. “That sounds wonderful.” He tilted his head. “Depending on what time my shift starts today, I might be able to come along for a bit - if that would be okay?”
Tubbo’s eyes widened. “You’d want to come?”
Phil nodded. “Of course. You’re interested in cars, right? I’d love to find out more about them… although if the museum knows more than you, I’d be impressed.”
Tubbo was not going to cry over such a simple sentiment. “Oh. U-um. Thank you. You - you can come.”
Phil’s smile grew wider. “Thanks Tubbo. I’ll double-check my schedule, but I’m pretty sure I don’t start until five.”
Footsteps approached and Wilbur stepped back into the kitchen.
His face was pale - he looked almost ghostlike.
Phil frowned. “Wilbur? Are you alright?”
Wilbur lifted his phone weakly. “They - I - I - just… they fired me.”
All around the table eyes widened, cutlery clattered.
“What?” Phil gasped.
Wilbur’s voice was shaking. “I - they - they fired me. I - I don’t - I -”
Phil’s chair rattled as he got up from his seat, rushing to Wilbur’s side. ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay -”
“I don’t - I don’t understand, Dad - I don’t - I don’t understand -”
“It’s okay. Just breathe, it’s okay…”
Tubbo’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He frowned, the voices of his family fading into the background as he pulled it out. Due to Schlatt’s control over his life he’d never had much of a chance to make friends, so there were very few people in his contact list - most of whom were in the room, right now. Why would anyone be texting me?
He pulled his phone out and glanced down.
His heart stopped beating.
Father
This tantrum of yours has gone on long enough. It’s been a week.
Come home Tubbo. Don’t ruin my reputation.
Or I’ll ruin them.
Tubbo’s phone slipped out of his shaking hand and clunked against the floor. He didn’t care - he hardly even noticed, unable to hear, see, think past the panic, the rushing in his ears. His chest felt tight - horribly, painfully tight, it was getting hard to breathe - he couldn’t breathe -
“Tubbo? Tubbo?”
Tubbo’s hand trembled as Techno reached out, taking it. “Tubbo? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
“I - I’m sorry - I - I’m so sorry,” Tubbo gasped out. They had to know - they had to know how sorry he was, for everything - he was such a selfish piece of sh*t -
“You - it’s okay Tubbo, you haven’t done anything wrong… what happened?”
Tubbo shook his head, curling in on himself. It had been so stupid of him to think he could ever escape his father’s ever-tightening grasp - he was trapped, the way he always had been - he belonged to Schlatt , he wasn’t his own - he didn’t get to be free . He didn’t get to stay in this fantasy - stay with Phil. He should never have tried to stay here in the first place.
“Hey - Techno, can you…? Thanks,” Phil’s voice said from somewhere above him. Techno’s hand disappeared and was replaced. “There we are - Tubbo? Nod if you can hear me.”
Tubbo nodded. “I - I’m sorry.”
Phil squeezed his hand gently. “I’m right here kiddo. You’re safe. I’m here.”
Tubbo felt tears snake down his face. “I - I know.”
Phil reached out slowly, carefully. Tubbo let him touch his face, wiping his tears away with his thumb. “There… you’re okay. Deep breaths now… that’s it. You’re okay.”
Tubbo shook his head. “I’m - I’m - I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for kiddo,” Phil said gently.
Tommy, who had apparently gone beneath the table to retrieve his phone, sucked in a breath. “F*ck.”
Phil lifted his head. “What is it?”
Tommy placed the phone down on the table, swallowing hard. “It - um - it’s… Tubbo’s dad.”
Phil’s eyebrows shot up. “Schlatt?” His gaze returned to Tubbo at once. “What did he say to you kiddo?”
Tubbo bit his lip. “He - h-he - u-um - he - he said - he s-s-said -”
He couldn’t say it. Just thinking the words made his mind whir with panic. He gave Tommy a pleading look.
Tommy gulped and slid the phone over to Phil, who took it. Techno and Wilbur peered over his shoulder, eyes widening as they read the message Schlatt had sent to his son.
“Prime…” Wilbur whispered.
Tubbo couldn’t bring himself to look at any of them, opting to stare at his own shaking hands instead. “I - I’m so sorry - I’m really sorry, I - I should - I should never have -”
“I’m going to stop you right there Tubbo,” Phil interrupted softly. “You’re not responsible for his actions.”
Tubbo shook his head. That wasn’t true. They all knew it wasn’t true. If Tubbo hadn’t called Phil crying, run away from home - they wouldn’t be in this situation.
What was he running from, anyway? A little discipline? It had seemed like such a big deal at the time, his dad hitting him, but… maybe it wasn’t. Maybe - maybe he was just a spoiled, selfish rich kid, who ran away from his problems, dragged other people into his mess. He - he was - he was so selfish.
There are people with actual problems in the world - and you’re making a fuss over a slap? You’re going to ruin this loving, happy, perfect family… over a slap?
Techno had cried. Wilbur had almost been thrown headlong into a panic attack.
Because of Tubbo.
“I - I’m sorry,” Tubbo repeated quietly. “I - I’m - I can… I’ll go.” Tears sprang into his eyes, but he forced them away, blinking rapidly. He wasn’t going to guilt them all into feeling sorry for him. Not after all the damage he’d already done. “I’ll - I’ll tell him to leave you alone - I’ll - I’ll g-go - you’ll n-never see me again. Th-th-thank you for everything - I - I’m so sorry -”
“Tubbo,” Phil said quietly, but firmly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Tubbo blinked. “But - b-b-but -”
“My brother is not going to threaten me into giving you up,” Phil said, tone leaving no room for argument. “You are not going back there.”
Tubbo shook his head. “B-but - you - he - he said -”
“I don’t care what he said,” Phil said fiercely. “You are not going back.”
Tubbo looked up at his cousins. Wilbur nodded. “Dad’s right. You absolutely cannot go back to that f*ckwad.”
Tommy glared at the phone as though it had personally offended him. “He hit you Tubbo. There’s no way we’re letting you go back there.”
Techno placed a gentle hand on Tubbo’s shoulder. “Y-yeah. You’re family. That means we look after you… no matter what.”
Something warm bloomed in Tubbo’s chest, even as he whispered: “But… wh-what about -”
“We’ll figure it out,” Phil said reassuringly. “I promise.”
Tommy came closer, wrapping his arms around Tubbo. Wilbur joined him, and Phil squeezed Tubbo’s hand gently.
“We’re going to be fine.”
---<>---
They were not fine.
Nothing about this was fine.
It had been a few weeks since Tubbo had gotten that text. Since the small space he’d carved out for himself was snatched away from him - since the security and peace he’d found with Phil had been brutally shattered.
Phil had been trying to rebuild it - he could tell. The whole family had been. They still smiled at him, Phil still cooked for them - there were still board game nights and hugs and even laughter - and Tubbo still slept on the mattress on the floor of Tommy’s tiny bedroom. If he wanted to - if he tried - he could pretend nothing had changed. That his very presence here wasn’t wrecking Phil’s tiny, perfect family.
But he couldn’t bring himself to be that selfish.
He wasn’t blind. He could see how much they were struggling.
Neither of the twins could get a job. Wilbur had been to countless interviews and was rejected at every single one. Techno - socially awkward Technoblade - had been going to every nightclub and bar and hotel - anywhere that could possibly need security… but none of them were hiring.
It was becoming increasingly obvious what had happened. Schlatt had pulled the strings he held as mayor, warned every business in the city not to hire the brothers. He was trying to starve the Craft family into submission.
Phil still had his job. He had earned enough loyalty from his managers at the restaurant for them to refuse to fire him.
But it wasn’t enough.
And Phil was taking on far more hours than he should have to - far more hours than was healthy. His smile was looking more and more tired every day, and his eyes seemed to overflow with a bone-deep exhaustion, dragging him down, making him… slump. He cooked and he cleaned and he held each of his sons - and his nephew - close, but he was hollow. He was overworking himself to make ends meet.
And Tubbo knew Tommy felt it too. His friend had fallen asleep with his phone open on his chest the other night. Tubbo had picked it up to plug it in, and the screen lit up to reveal that Tommy had been searching for a job.
That was Tubbo’s breaking point.
He slipped out of their shared room and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him before sliding down the wood and onto the floor, tears gathering in his eyes.
He was ruining this family.
He had to face that. He was destroying them - financially, emotionally and physically - each day that passed, Phil looked paler and paler. The weight of his family’s impending bankruptcy - eviction, being turned out onto the streets - it was crushing him. And the twins weren’t doing much better. Even Tommy was feeling the effects of Schlatt’s campaign to wreck them.
And Tubbo knew how to fix it.
He pulled out his phone and opened the text app, navigating to his father’s contact. Staring at the message.
Come home Tubbo.
Tubbo glanced around the bathroom.
This place - this apartment with its draughty windows and claustrophobic hallway and laughter and light and love - it wasn’t his home.
He belonged with his father. To his father. He belonged to Schlatt.
Living here is… it’s like a dream come true. A fantasy made real.
But all dreams have to end eventually.
Maybe, deep down, Tubbo had always known things had to turn out this way. He wasn’t - he didn’t get to be happy, to be with Phil and his family. If something is too good to be true, it is, right?
He looked back down at his phone with a sinking heart.
It was pointless, trying to escape. I should have known from the start.
Schlatt will never let me go.
Tubbo shivered at the thought.
Schlatt was going to be so angry with him. If he’d only slapped him when he’d found out about Tubbo’s secret, shameful desire to live with Phil instead of his father… what would he do when Tubbo was back in his clutches once more?
He supposed it didn’t matter. He had to go back. No matter what. It was time to stop being a such selfish f*cking coward and go back to the life he deserved - the life that had always been his.
He hauled himself up and made his way back to Tommy’s room. He might as well get some sleep.
It was going to be the last time he felt safe enough to do so.
---<>---
The next morning, after breakfast - Tommy in the shower, Phil out to work, Wilbur and Techno off to the library to trawl through job listings - Tubbo packed his bags.
Well, bag. He hadn’t taken much with him to Phil’s to begin with. Just his phone, wallet, and school bag.
He wrote a note, as fast as he could. He hoped it was still legible.
Dear Crafts,
I love you all. So, so much. And I can’t keep hurting you by staying here, I just can’t. So I’m going back to my father’s. I’ll try to convince him to leave you alone. You don’t deserve to deal with my mess.
I’m sorry. And thank you, for everything.
Love,
Tubbo
He placed it on Tommy’s desk, hesitating for a moment as his eyes settled on one of Tommy’s old vintage gadgets - a small, rectangular, camera.
He bit his lip.
Moving quickly, he grabbed it and stuffed it into his bag. Tommy had others and he - he needed this one. It was better than using his phone.
And then, Tubbo crept out of the room and down the stairs, through the ground floor of the flat -
And then he was outside.
Tubbo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, resigning himself to his fate - whatever it was. Whatever his father had in store for him.
And set off for home.
---<>---
The penthouse was quiet as Tubbo stepped inside.
For the first time in weeks, he took in the room with fresh eyes. It was beautiful - he’d always known that. The floor-to-ceiling windows, the marble floors, the white couches and countertops - everything was sleek and polished and so, so cold.
Phil’s apartment was always warm. Even in November, when the family couldn’t afford to turn the heating on despite the blistering cold outside, the laughter and light contained within the walls more than made up for it.
The heating was on here.
But Tubbo was cold .
He slipped his shoes off and hung up his coat, feeling almost numb, woodenly going through the motions like a broken doll. That’s what Schlatt wants, after all. He pulled out the camera he’d taken from Tommy, ignoring the pang of guilt he felt, and looked around for a long moment, before carefully placing it on top of a bookshelf, hidden from view.
As he stepped back to survey his work, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps descending the staircase that led to his father’s bedroom.
He spun around in time to see Schlatt standing at the bottom of the stairs, eyebrows raised, a small smirk drifting onto his face.
“Tubbo.”
Tubbo could feel himself beginning to shake. “F-F-F-Father.”
“You came back,” Schlatt said flatly.
Tubbo nodded, swallowing hard. “I did.”
“You left,” Schlatt hissed, stepping closer.
“I - I’m sorry,” Tubbo whispered.
“Damn right, you are,” Schlatt snarled. His hand flashed out and seized Tubbo’s wrist, hoisting it up, dragging him closer. “Do you have any idea how difficult the last few weeks have been for me?”
Tubbo shook his head desperately, trying to pull away. “No - I - I’m sorry - I - I didn’t think -”
“You go running off to my useless-piece-of-sh*t half-brother - you go missing for weeks - do you want to embarrass me, Tubbo? Is that it?”
“No - no - I don’t - I was just - I didn’t -”
I was scared.
I was scared and hurt and in shock and I just wanted to be safe.
Schlatt flung his wrist away with such force that Tubbo stumbled backwards, knocking against the bookshelf. “Please - I’m sorry -”
“You’re going to be sorry by the time I’m done with you,” Schlatt hissed, stepping closer and closer. Tubbo pressed himself into the bookshelf, torn between closing his eyes to block out the world and keeping them open to watch the threat before him. His heart raced, pounding in his chest as he fought to keep his breathing steady. There was no Phil here to remind him to breathe deeply, after all.
To his horror, the thought of Phil brought tears springing to his eyes.
Schlatt noticed them at once, and seconds later a hand collided with his cheek - a mirror image of the strike that had driven Tubbo out of the penthouse in the first place. He gasped in pain, tears breaking free as he lifted a shaking hand to the stinging skin on his face.
“Stop f*cking crying,” Schlatt spat. “Prime, how Philza tolerated you for a day I’ll never know.”
Tubbo hung his head, blinking rapidly as he tried to force the tears away. He knew they only made his father angrier, and right now? He couldn’t afford to fuel any more of the fire raging in Schlatt’s eyes.
“I’ve been spoiling you,” Schlatt breathed. “Letting you go to school and - and wherever you want. All of this could have been avoided if you just remembered you belong to me.” He jammed his finger sharply into Tubbo’s chest as he spoke. “You’re mine.”
“I - I - I - I kn-know,” Tubbo stammered. “I know - I’m - I’m sorry -”
“Things are going to be /different/ now,” Schlatt said darkly. “No more keycard - no more phone. You don’t leave your room - let alone the penthouse - without my permission. Do you understand?”
Tubbo understood.
He was a prisoner. His father was going to keep him locked up until he turned eighteen - probably beyond. Isolated and alone and - and -
And he’d never see the Crafts again.
He’d never see Tommy’s laugh, listen to Wilbur’s music, learn to make baked potatoes alongside Technoblade. He’d never get held in Phil’s arms again.
He was never going to see his family again.
But if he didn’t do this…
“And you’ll - you’ll leave them alone, right?” Tubbo whispered. “You - you won’t… r-r-ruin them?”
Schlatt laughed. It was a horrifying, dark, thing. “You’re not in a position to make demands like that.”
Tubbo’s eyes widened. “You - you said - you said if I came home -”
“I’d stop?” Schlatt shrugged. “Philza took you from me. He knew what it would do - how it would damage my reputation.” He smirked, eyes cruel. “He needs to be taught a lesson. Put back in his place - that whole family does.”
“No!” Tubbo protested, fear filling him. “You can’t - you can’t do that - you - they’re our family too -”
Without warning, he found himself crashing into the floor, crying out with pain as his shoulder hit the hard marble.
He twisted around, scrambling back as he took in the fury on his father’s face. “Don’t ever say that.”
“I’m sorry -”
A hand landed in his hair - but it wasn’t warm and gentle like Phil’s. It was cruel and harsh, and Tubbo yelped as Schlatt used it to throw him against the bookshelf, which rattled against the wall.
He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, panic rushing in his mind as he realised there was no reason for Schlatt to hold back anymore. He could keep Tubbo out of the public eye until the bruises healed, or hire a makeup artist, or - or -
He had never been safe in this place.
But he had never been in so much danger before.
Schlatt advanced on him again, shaking out his fist, rolling up his sleeve. Tubbo weakly raised his arms over his head, trembling with pain and fear as his father pulled his fist back -
And the penthouse door slid open.
And like an - an angel - Phil burst into the room.
He stood still for a moment, taking in the sight before him.
And then he stalked across the floor and punched Schlatt in the jaw.
Schlatt collapsed to the floor at once, crumpling like a paper doll as Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy rushed into the room after their father.
“Ph-Phil?” Tubbo whispered. “Wh-what - I - what?”
Techno hurried to Phil’s side, while Wilbur and Tommy fell to their knees at Tubbo’s. Wilbur’s gentle fingers traced the red mark on Tubbo’s cheek. “That mother f*cker.”
Schlatt’s eyes were dark and furious as he glared at Phil. “Philza.”
“Schaltt,” Phil said grimly. His hands were clenched into fists, jaw set, eyes shooting daggers.
He’s angry.
Holy sh*t.
Tubbo had never seen Phil angry before.
“What the f*ck are you doing here?” Schlatt spat, struggling to his feet. “What the - how the f*ck -”
“Tubbo left us a note,” Phil answered, stepping forwards, blocking Tubbo from Schlatt’s line of sight. “He left us a note and Tommy found his spare keycard beneath his mattress. It wasn’t hard.”
“He’s my son,”
“Your son would rather live with me than with you,” Phil shot. “He ran from you Schlatt. He escaped from you.”
“You had no right -”
“I’m his uncle,” Phil spat. “I had every right to save him from you - from his abusive father who would rather spend the night with a drink than with his own son!”
“I’m not abusive,” Schlatt snarled, inching closer to Phil. “I’m teaching him discipline.”
Tubbo shivered and Tommy’s grip on his hand tightened.
“You make him miserable!” Phil cried. “You insult him - you hurt him!”
Schlatt laughed. “It’s my word against yours Phil.”
Phil blinked. “What - what do you mean?”
“It’s my word against yours,” Schlatt jabbed a finger forward, stabbing into Phil’s chest, forcing Phil to stumble back a little. “You think I’m not going to fight for him? I’ll take this to court and I’ll win - I could destroy you Philza.”
Phil took a deep breath, shoving Schlatt’s hand away. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I? You can’t afford legal fees. No one will believe you - why would they? The word of their respected mayor against…” Schlatt smiled cruelly. “You. And your worthless sons.” He chuckled. “I can see the headlines already… ‘Virtuous Mayor Fights Back Against Money-Grabbing Gold-Diggers’ .”
Phil blanched at that. So did Techno and Wilbur and even Tommy.
Tubbo hated it. He couldn’t stand it. The way Schlatt spoke about his family, as though they were… less than human somehow. It made him want to throw up.
“I won’t abandon Tubbo,” Phil said quietly. “I won’t do that.”
“Then lose him in court,” Schlatt smirked. “Along with everything you hold dear. After all - you have no proof.”
Tubbo took a deep breath. “Yes he does.”
Every eye in the room turned to him.
“What?”
“Tubbo, what do you mean -”
“Shut the f*ck up -”
But Tubbo only had eyes for his uncle. For the man who saved him. A real-life guardian angel.
“He has proof.”
He pushed himself up and dug around in the bookshelf until he pulled out the camera.
And clicked off the ‘record’ button.
He held it out towards Phil.
“I - I set up a camera. Just - just in case I ever got the chance to… escape one day. Just in case.”
Phil took it. His eyes were shining. “Tubbo…”
Tubbo swallowed. “I - I’m - I’m sorry?”
And suddenly he was engulfed in a tight hug.
“Tubbo,” Phil whispered. “You - you’re a genius kiddo. Prime…”
Schlatt was frozen still as Phil unpeeled himself from Tubbo, keeping his arm around him as he raised the camera. “I’ll be taking both of these home with me.” He smiled down at Tubbo before returning his gaze to Schlatt, eyes hardening. “You stay away from him - from my family. I don’t need a lawyer with this footage, brother. One email to a few news outlets is all it will take.”
Schlatt’s eyes were wide. “You - you can’t just -”
“I can and I will,” Phil said firmly. “Tubbo is not yours. He’s mine.” He glanced down at Tubbo, a small, hesitant smile on his face. “If - if that’s okay with you, that is?”
Tubbo wrapped his arms around his uncle, too choked to speak. To say all that he wanted to.
It’s perfect. It’s everything I ever wanted.
And, as he left the penthouse behind, Phil’s arm around him and his cousins at his side…
He realised that nothing and no one - not even Schlatt - could take it from him again.
He wasn’t Tubbo Underscore anymore. He was Tubbo Craft.
And that was the most perfect thing in the world.