Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When was the last time she visited home?

Tommy asked herself, as the view became familiar even in her blurry memory. Fields of golden ready for harvest. Light blue skies of autumn. The river's clear waters wrapped around the village, horsetail weeds growing on its shores. Oh-so-familiar. She remembers living here, no matter how much she tried to supress it. She remembers what's left of her father's voice, of her brother's smile, of her sibling's head scratches and the food her mother used to make-

"How's the view?" Tubbo asked her, eyes gleaming with excitement. It was Tubbo's first time here, after all.

The car's wheels kept turning and turning as she tried to figure out an answer, fingers gripping the fabric of her pants, her seat suddenly becoming uncomfortable. The view was something out of a story book, and yet all she could imagine was the body of her brother, bloody and cold. A butcher's knife in his gut, a puddle of red in front of the ancestral house. She could still remember the night when they took him away. She had experienced things worse then his death, and yet that was the nail in the coffin, the straw that broke the camel's back. The night where all her memories of this place were spoiled. The night where she turned her back to the moon, and ran.

"It's...great." She replied, voice quiet.

It was more than great. It was painful. Painful to know that she used to despise this place. That this was where so much of her trauma happened. Because this place truly is beautiful, it was breathtaking, mesmerizing all that took a glance at it, so homely and peaceful and soft. And yet her mind wouldn't let her remember it as such. No, she only remembered bottles stacking in her brother's room, her sibling starving, her mother deteriorating from grief...

Tubbo's voice snapped her out of her train of thoughts, once again.

"Quackity was pretty tense about you coming here, what's that about?" He questioned innocently, lowering his voice. His eyes locked onto hers, crouching forwards, occasionally glancing at the driver.

Well, how was she supposed to answer that?

Tell him that Quackity shared an important slice of his life here, with her? Tell him that Quackity's first and only marriage happened here, right where they were driving through? Tell him that Quackity was so, so brutally traumatised from this mere location alone that the mention of it sent shivers down his spine?

"I can hear you," a rough voice cleared his throat, hands stiff on the steering wheel.

Tommy sighed in relief. Thank gods she didn't have to confront her 16-year-long trauma and express her feelings — Ew, really — to Tubbo, right here in the car. She knew she could always trust Quackity to get her out of a tough situation.

"Maybe i'll tell that to you another day," She answered, ending the conversation.

Chapter Text

Sitting in the car, head leaning on the window, Tommy can't help but let her mind wander far and wide. How long has it been since she left? Years? She left when she was 16, that's all she remembers. She's 21 now. Time does fly... She does miss being reckless and cheeky without consequence, and she does miss not having to do taxes, but the freedom sure is worth it, even if she has to deal with self-consciousness and insecurities...

Saigon has been a joy to her. A city bright and colorful, with a night life as vivid and lively as she had expected. Gotta be honest, she loved it. She loved the modern feel of the place, she loved the freedom, and of course, the delicious food. Sure, there were the harsh realities of renting and working a 9-to-5 while also running a Tiktok, but she assumed that was a thing everyone had to deal with, no matter where. Despite being so alien, it also felt like....home. People were so warm and welcoming, and she had been to many restaurants and market stalls greeting her with open arms even if she barged in with no warning. The food also reminded her of home, the same warmth and love, despite there not being a special twinge of flavour like Mama's food has. She made many friends just by being herself and talking to people around, like that nice gardener girl at the market ── Her name was Hannah, wasn't it? ── or Tubbo's boyfriend. Her co-channel owner tried to deny his affections towards Ranboo, but he couldn't escape Tommy's watchful gaze, noticing even the smallest details like how he looked at the man.

Overall, if she could rate her experience, Saigon would be a definite 10/10.

But every night, staring at the ceiling at 3am wide awake while Tubbo slept in the bed next to her, Tommy couldn't help but think, how did the family manage when she was gone?

Niki ── her neighbor ── always had the answers, and this time was no different either. They kept in touch even when Tommy moved to Saigon, and every month her landlord always gave her a neatly-packaged envelope, pink heart stamp and all, signed 'Niki' in cursive.

First thing she found out, her grandfather was pissed.

Of course, there was never a time that Gramps wasn't pissed, but this time it was somehow worse. He stormed out of the house with the same butcher knife that killed Wilbur, screaming at the sky, yelling at the world. It was comforting to know that her grandfather really did care, but considering everything else the man did, this didn't even matter. Honestly, the family dog can run out one night and he'll do the same, the bare minimum. Because no matter how much of a show he put on, on the inside, he only cared for her father and Wilbur. And both are dead now. Tommy knew he had lost all hope for this family, only trying to put on the 'great grandfather' facade for his reputation as a level-headed and caring man.

Her mother was devastated. Out of everyone, her mother was one of the only people she truly felt bad for leaving. She still remembers Mama's dark curls, falling over her shoulders, purple dress, and soft, somber eyes. She still remembers the woman's lap, so comforting and warm, and hands calloused and worn from harvesting rice, and yet carded her hair with a gentleness none can truly replicate. Her mother didn't understand much about her gender identity or anything about queer people for that matter, but Mama had supported her all the way through. Gods, she still remembers her mother's soft lullabies, haunting her sleep. So many times she had sung ── cried, even ── herself to sleep with that same lullaby, trying to hold onto what was left of her Mama.

The other person she was scared to leave was, surprisingly, Techno. They had been oh-so supportive towards her for so long, they had also been the only person that truly did understand that she was serious about her transition. Heck, that had been the thing they fought so hard for, acceptance. She knew they had bottled up years of hurt inside them. She remembers it like it was yesterday, vividly so. Blood, spilling over cold tiles as Gramps hit them for the millionth time. Their hands quietly wrapping bandages over dripping wounds. Curled up in their room, quietly humming to Tommy, telling her that no matter if she was a boy, a girl, or anything else in between, they’d always love her, even if no one else did.

So she was ecstatic to know that Techno moved to Hanoi, with Niki in tow.

Of course, after that, Niki’s letters were less about what was happening at home, and more about her daily life and such, and they had become pen-friends of sorts, but Tommy still got little tidbits of things happening at home every time the duo came back for holidays.

Actually, Techno had been the one she saw the most. Every year or so, they’d visit Saigon, half-asleep but still, visibly excited to see their younger sister, despite it only appearing as a soft smile. Time hasn't erased their bond, and never will. She vividly remembers going to the market with her sibling, showing them her apartment, spending the holidays mending their relationship. No matter how hard their childhood had been, they’ve grown into mature and hardworking adults, and she knew if Mama was here, she’d be proud of both of them.

“HOLY FUCK-” The car’s wheels slowed to a stop, knocking Tommy forward. Tubbo quickly lunged over and helped her sit up. Quackity apologized profusely, trying to reach the poor girl, half-bent over with her spine at least a little fractured ── Tubbo said she was being dramatic, how rude of him, ── but only managing to awkwardly pat her head. Ranboo ── who had stayed silent the entire trip, so silent in fact that Tommy forgot he existed ── worriedly watched from his passenger’s seat.

After a bit of struggling, some drops of heat rub ── what would she do without heat rub ── and Tubbo having to get her out of the car, Tommy finally came face-to-face with her ancestral house. Ranboo and Quackity promised to pick them up, once they went to the hotel and checked in. Tubbo put her down, standing quietly at the doorway.

What was the ancestral house for again? Gods, her grandmother would kill her if she knew her granddaughter forgot all her teachings.

Right. It was for worshipping your ancestors and whatnot. Tommy always found that at least a slight bit weird. Not all of your ancestors are good people ── cough cough, Gramps, cough cough ── and not all of them deserve worship either. But she could just…willingly ignore that since it’s a Vietnamese tradition and culture that has been practised for centuries now, because some of her ancestors really were good people, and she supposes the fact that they helped produce the newer generation is a good thing.

Tubbo looked at the doorway, marked with symbols and characters, and scratched his head. Honestly, Tommy had no idea what they meant either, except the large "ĐÔNG A” embedded at the top, so she just stepped in first to dodge the question.

It was just like she remembered. Dusty blue walls that grew even more dull after she left, with large mahogany windows letting light pass through, shining on cream tiles, creases dark with… whatever the fuck was in there. Eugh, Tommy didn’t even want to think about it. Maybe some blood, specifically Techno’s or Quackity’s. Offerings? Lots of leftover or spilled offerings. Incense, of course. Whatever was in there, Tommy did not want to know.

The altar was well-kept, surprisingly. She remembered Techno and Quackity being the only ones who really took care of the place. The pictures of her brother and dad were even more vivid than she remembered. It should be half-faded by now, but maybe the glass frames were really high quality and Gramps spent a lot of money on them. Which…just meant he favored Wilby out of all the siblings. She didn’t need that tidbit to figure that out, of course, Gramps literally left this house for Wilby… She wondered how he felt when Wilby died. She did see him staring at his corpse, jaw slack, eyes filled with rage, but not much other than that. Angry that he killed himself? Sorrowful that there was nobody to pass his house to? Sad, because his favourite grandson died?

Tubbo tapped her shoulder, holding some incense.

“What’s this for…?” she asked, taking the incense from his calloused hands.

“You have to show respect to the elders, you know. We are using their house for content after all,” he replied, hiding a giggle.

“Pfft- Yeah. I doubt they’d like their granddaughter and her friends barging into their house after 5 years and filming a house review,” Tommy chuckled back, before shutting up, bowing to the altar, and placing the incense on it.

Ah, the smell of incense. So many memories.

She remembers a lot of things, just from that smell. Cleaning the altar with Quackity every New Year's. Techno being beat up with all kinds of weapons Gramps can find in the house. Cooking food with Mama, mostly chicken, and almost always burning it. Wilbur drinking, bottles of wine all over the floor, some even spilling onto the tiles. Playing with the kids in the village. Gramps storming around, yelling and screaming at her. Praying to her ancestors for good grades, and maybe, just maybe, that her father would come back. She never really had a "good" childhood, however you define it. And she was happy she left, no matter how horrible that sounds for some people.

Tubbo said he'd go get filming equipment, and headed off. She was left alone in the ancestral house, alone in the quiet place she once called home. It was once her only home. Her actual house was far too unwelcoming sometimes, with the thick smell of achohol mixed with the scent of blood. She'd come here, sit cross-legged on the floor, and have some peace to herself. And thought that her father would come back and protect her from all this. So she kept coming here. Kept praying. Memorized the house, committed it to memory. And yet nothing ever happened. She can't remember when, but one day, little Tommy stopped believing. Little Tommy gave up. Little Tommy sat, back to the wall, crying and wailing, knowing no one will ever, ever come back for her.

Turning around, she expected to see the doorway, an escape from this cloud of memories, but instead...

Brown hair, charred from walking in the sun too long. Tired eyes. No hollowed cheeks, it seems like he never even picked up a bottle. Tall stance, towering almost as tall as the altar, but she thinks it's just her imagination.

"Big brother?" Words slipped from her lips, as she stared in shock.

"What are you doing in the Ancestral House this early?" he playfully scolded before his eyes widened in panic, "Hey! TOMMY-"

Tommy fell over and fainted.

Chapter Text

The sky was dark. Grayish. Stars gleamed in the sky, visible through the window, glimmers of white dappled on a canvas of darkness.

She was in the Ancestral House. Well, at least, not the one she was at earlier, no. This one had the vibrant hue of her childhood. There wasn’t a photo of Wilbur on the altar yet. The tiles were a fainter white, not the cream she knows today.

And oh gods, the floor was cold.

She curled up, only to realize her body was smaller than she originally remembered it. Sure, she wasn’t tall by a long shot. 158cm was shorter than Tubbo. But this was…even shorter than that. Huh.

Her legs weren't the lanky sticks that she normally covered with leg warmers. Her hair was fully black, not the yellow-and-black raccoon-dyed hair she has. Okay, this is weird, someone please tell her she’s dreaming.

Quietly shuffling on the cold floor, she bumped into a larger body next to her. Turning around in panic, she saw Techno, curled up, half-asleep. Even they looked different. No wolf-cut, no scars, not even a strand of dark red hair. This is scary. Oh god this is scary.

It wasn’t bad though. Even if it was winter and she barely had any clothes on ── a single set of pajamas doesn’t count, alright? It needs a thick weighted blanket or a jacket to pair with it ── she felt comfortable. The breeze and Techno’s even breaths were luring her to sleep. She yawned, and snuggled up next to her sibling.

Footsteps. She heard footsteps.

Tip-tap-tip-tap. Footsteps, from far away.

She didn’t pay it any thought at first. Could be the neighborhood cat wandering around or some teenagers sneaking out of their houses.

They got closer. Thump, thump, thump.

They were getting closer. And louder. And angrier. And it was headed towards the ancestral house.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Now she knew who it was. Gramps. She could even hear the faint clink of the coat hanger he taps in his hand. She tugged on the hem of Techno’s shirt, desperately trying to get them to wake up.

Except it wasn’t Gramps.

A monster crawled slowly, surely through the door frame; claws piercing through the tiles, cracking the material. Slimy, sticky, oily. Like some kind of fossil fuel hybrid with Ghibli movie villains. It bared its black fangs, and Tommy winced. Fuck. Fuck this was bad. Fangs dripping with oil and dripping with golden ichor and dripping dripping dripping and the sound of it screaming, everything was screaming, children screaming, screaming screaming screaming MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP-

Before it could bite her like a rabid dog it dissolved into a black liquid beneath her feet, soaking into her clothes, and still Techno was asleep. Well, that guy ── she meant it gender-neutrally, s h u t── could sleep through everything. Thunderstorms, Gramp’s torture sessions, the neighbor’s dog’s howling, Gramp’s emotional damage, and maybe even sleep after tasting Wil’s horrid cooking.

But more importantly, the oil-thing was seeping into her clothes and she was not sleeping in cold pajamas, thank you. And yet her legs were dangerously still. Stiff and sore and all frozen-up. It seriously troubled her to no end. Did she spend too much time editing her videos? Did she not exercise enough? Now she can’t even move. Is this sleep paralysis? She hoped this was a dream. Was this a dream? Please be a dream. Please be a dream. Please please be a dream.

Like it couldn’t get worse, the sludge wrapped around her. It was just her in the middle of a black void now. Everything was black, in all directions, nothing else in there except herself and her increasingly annoying thoughts. Little chatter at first, before it became loud. Her feet sinked into the soot. Static mixed in with meaningless banter, overwhelming all her senses and making herself feel like she had static in her body, too, as her entire being melted into the void.

There was a voice louder than the rest. It was familiar, she just couldn’t pinpoint who it was because of all the others she struggled to tune out. Then, it got louder. And louder. Just a blur at first, before it single-handedly overtook the others.

“TOMMY!”

She twitched.

And then she woke up.

In front of her was a mildly worried Wilbur, except something wasn't quite right. He was floating. Oh gods, he was floating. And he was semi-transparent too. Her brother's eyes mildly softened at the sight of her, before the mischievous spark appeared again. Shit, her inner child whispered, what is he planning this time? But the other part of herself, the part that grew up and healed and yet still held the softer memories of her home in her heart, smiled. It's been...way too long since she last saw him. Five years. Five whole years she hadn't seen her brother. Even if this was another dream, another hallucination, at least she got to see him again.

Well, that was before the less sentimental part of her started speaking. No, started screaming at the top of her lungs.

"HOLY FUCK WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

"Tommy! It's me! Wilbur!" he smiled charmingly, reaching out to touch her.

Now that Tommy noticed, it wasn't just Wilbur. There was her dead grandma, most of her family tree by this point, that lady from across the street who died like 20 years ago, and maybe one or two dead pets from the neighborhood.

Well, it did absolutely nothing to calm her down.

'WHY'S EVERYONE OUT WALKING????"

"I invited them," Wilbur grinned, "while you were fainted! Everyone just thought you were asleep."

Tommy stood up, and ran.

"STOP FOLLOWING ME!" She started screaming even louder, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"

"Honestly, I don't want anything," Wilbur rambled, levitating behind her, "I'm just curious why you can see me-"

Tommy tried to find somewhere to hide, before quickly crawling under a table.

"-While I'm not turning on my 'visible to the living' mode!" Wilbur peeked under the table. Tommy shrieked and bolted through the other side.

"Well I didn't turn on my 'see the dead' mode either!" Tommy shouted while scrambling to hide, "IF I HAD ONE!"

"But this can prove that death isn't the end, right?" Wilbur giggled, following right behind her. She mindlessly scratched the air while looking at another direction hoping he will go away.

"YEAH YEAH CAN YOU DISAPPEAR NOW???" Tommy screamed again.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me?" Wilbur said, mildly disappointed.

"Oh right, yeah..." Tommy paused, before returning to shrieking, "BUT NO ONE'S HAPPY TO SEE A DEAD PERSON!!"

"And no one talks back to a ghost like you do! Are you sure you're really scared-"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

──── ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ────

Tubbo quietly set up the cameras. Hey, it was kinda nice here. The tiles were comforting and softened his step, and the breeze was just the right amount of cool. The sunlight wasn't that bad either.

He took a few minutes to turn on the lights. He remembered how much he and Tommy had struggled to set them up the first time they got them. The manual wasn't helpful at all and the control board had been confusing as fuck. Parts were scrambled all over the floor of their shared apartment, and several noise complaints were sent by the neighbors from the amount of times they dropped it. But now, he brings the trustworthy giant light everywhere he goes, and knows her better than his own hand. A helpful companion, he must say. The lighting alone had saved too many of their videos from flopping.

He draped the red cloth over the spare table he found in the warehouse. Sure, it was dusty, but it was better than nothing. It was good wood, too. If he had his way, he'd steal this table and have it as him and Tommy's new dinner table. It was worthy for such an important role. See, the only tables that Tubbo deemed good enough for the important role of being a dinner table has to be the best of the best, durable and have a beautiful wood grain. Anything other than that, he'd saw and use as wood scraps for any of his little projects. But Tommy wouldn't let him steal anything on the account of this house being, well, haunted, and she was scared the ghosts will follow them home.

Speaking of Tommy, where the fuck was she? Probably checking the house for any possibility of the paranormal, he insisted. Totally not freaking out randomly again.

──── ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ────

Tommy was freaking out.

I mean, who wouldn't? Your dead-ass brother comes back in front of you after years, and is now semi-counseling you on the other side of the table. Everyone was gone now, only her and Wilbur, but that still didn't help. Her breathing was uneasy, and honestly she didn't really want to calm it either.

"-Tommy? TOMMY!"

"Ha-?" She snapped her head towards the location of the sound, and it was just Wilbur going on and on and on about something again. Healing? Something about mental health?

"Gods, you need to calm down!"

"WELL I OBVIOUSLY CAN'T WHEN MY DEAD BROTHER IS LITERALLY TALKING TO ME IN GHOST-FORM!"

"You know what?" Wilbur sighed in acceptance, and sat still as a statue, bracing for something, "poke my arm."

"Poke your arm?" Tommy repeated, confused.

"Poke my arm."

"...OK," She carefully poked the top of his arm with her index.

Wilbur jerked up, before his entire body turned a shade of...green?

"hOLY FUCK-"

"Cool, right?" he grinned, "it does hurt a little- EY! WATCH IT- TOMMY!"

She poked him again and again, watching him shrivel like a sheet of paper and change colors repeatedly, giggling maniacally, eventually hitting a rainbow mode that changed colors every three-ish minutes.

“Fuck you,” Wilbur hissed.

“I know.”

──── ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ────

Ranboo was driving with Quackity. More accurately, Quackity was driving and they were sitting on the passenger’s seat, enjoying the view. It was absolutely great, despite him having seen it at least five times now. Golden fields, a tranquil river, children wandering and shouting…Tommy is so lucky for being able to grow up in such a beautiful place.

They had just been checking in to the hotel they’d be staying at for the full duration of the trip. One or two weeks, Ranboo had estimated. Not too long, since Quackity still had a job to do, but as long as possible so Tommy and Tubbo can film their content.

Ranboo sat by the window, sipping from his bottle, while Quackity drank some iced coffee he bought somewhere when they were driving to the hotel. The light from the GPS was barely present compared to the sunlight filtering through the dark windows.

“What are you drinking?” Quackity asked, steering the wheel and almost knocking Ranboo over. Well, Quack wasn’t known for his driving skills, alright.

“Coconut vinegar.”

Quackity paused, still holding the black plastic straw in his mouth, but no longer drinking his coffee.

“Why are you drinking coconut vinegar of all things??” Quackity questioned, confusion written all over his face, “that cannot taste good.”

“I’d say it tastes pretty OK,” Ranboo said back, “you can’t go wrong with coconut.”

“You can when it’s vinegar,” Quackity scoffed.

“It has the consistency of water, and a slight soreness on the top of the tongue, and a tad bit of sour and bitter mixed with the sweetness of coconut too!” Ranboo defended his taste in drinks, “It’s so good! You just haven’t tried it-”

“And I likely never will,” Quackity cut the other off.

They drove in silence for a while, before Ranboo started finding the seat under him uncomfortable again and had to force himself to break this awkward atmosphere.

“Do you ever just think about cheese?” he mused.

“What-”

“Like cheese is so interesting. We add acid or heat up the milk to break down the micelles in the milk, making them stick together and forming curds that float to the surface and make the cheese that we eat. Like, isn’t that so cool?”

“How do you know this much about cheese?” Quackity sighed, exasperated.

“Books. I like reading books. They remind me of my mothers.”

“...Alright.”

They park at the ancestral house, where Tubbo was setting up the behind-the-scenes stuff, waiting for Tommy to appear. Ranboo’s poor boyfriend was sitting on some chair, bored and disappointed. He opened the door of the car, and ran towards his boyfriend immediately.

“Tubbo? What’s wrong?”

“Hey baby girl-” he chuckled dryly before his face returned back into disappointment, “...I haven’t seen Tommy for 2 hours now. I’m worried.”

“Let’s open the door then,” Quackity walked towards the door with haste, “Do you really believe that the house is haunted?”

“No…” Tubbo stopped him, slightly unsure, “But how can we know for sure? What if Tommy’s gone and inside is just a bunch of ghosts waiting for us to open the door?”

“We aren’t in some fanfic, Tubbo,” Ranboo hugged his boyfriend.

“What if we are and our life is all a lie and Tommy is dead and-”

“Stop overthinking and just open the fucking door,” Quackity scoffed.

Tubbo gently rested his hand on the door handle, fingers curling around the rusted metal, before delicately opening one of two large wooden doors.

First off, it was dusty as fuck.

Tubbo had entered this place once before but oh goodness, it was still quite new to him. So much dust. It clogged up his nostrils and caused him ── and Quackity── to cough uncontrollably. Ranboo covered his mouth and nose with the inside of his elbow.

When the dust subsided and Ranboo’s eyes were no longer burning ──holy heck they hurt── he saw Tommy, sitting on a chair next to some table, and another guy? Tall, brown-haired, and…semi-transparent? HOLY-

“WHO THE FUCK IS THAT???” Tubbo shouted, pointing at the man. Ranboo himself was shaken, and Quackity seemed somewhat shocked too, but with a slight glint of…disappointment in his eyes.

“Wilbur?” Quackity huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, silently shoving Tubbo and Ranboo behind him.

“Oh, Quackity-” The man, Wilbur, replied enthusiastically, before Quackity cut him off.

"Why are you here again?!" Ranboo had to cover his ears from how loud Quackity was shouting. The man's eyes were red, like hurt from something. Tubbo felt like this went deeper than he had originally thought. He already somewhat knew that Quackity didn't like this place, but now he felt like this man, Wilbur, was why, "My life became better when you died, you bastard. My worth wasn't attached to you anymore. Your fuckass grandpa didn't hate my guts anymore, he only grieved you. Now that you're here again, I have to preform the role of a model wife, and no matter what I do, I can never, ever substitute for a real woman, a real wife. And it's all your fault."

"But Quackity-" The man tried to defend himself, but Quackity snapped.

"Shut it!" Quackity growled, "You said that we'd live happily, that my life would be better if I followed you. But everything I got was the two daughters that aren't even mine you refused to raise, trauma, scars," he pointed to the scar of his left eye, and Ranboo winced. Quackity always hid why he got that scar, but the pieces were slowly falling into place, "and a life even more ruined then it was before! And you died, to escape responsibility. So what now, huh? What now?!"

He didn't let the man reply. Quackity turned around, glanced at Tubbo and Ranboo, and left. Tubbo turned his heel to leave, but paused and waited for his boyfriend and his friend.

Ranboo cautiously walked forward, tugging on Tommy's shirt, keeping as far from Wilbur as possible. Tommy glanced at Wilbur, before glancing at Ranboo, before turning to her brother again. She sighed, "I'll…see you tomorrow then."

Wilbur raised his hand out to reach her, but Tommy stood up and followed the other two out.

Wilbur was all alone. Again.