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Chapter Text

Words cannot express the colossal feeling of loneliness and the sudden overflowing of numbness as he felt time and time again more scars buried him to the ground with nothing to get him out.


Seeing his brother being killed by his own father’s hand was jarringly painful enough but he never thought that more wounds and scars will be inflicted on him as time passed by.


To be banished by the very nation you sacrificed so many times, to be exiled by your own best friend who you thought will be there in the very end, was conflicting, to say the least.


Abandoned in a place where he cannot see or hear people other than the smiling man who always told him he is his only friend and ally while destroying his hard-earned work and him in the process, the same smiling man who almost drove him to the brink of suicide only to run away to his estranged brother in the cold freezing tundra.


Tommy still sees Techno as a brother yet a traitor after what he did to a L’Manberg, but he was starting to see the pink-haired hybrid’s perspective on the very country he contributed, he mentally admits Techno was right but he was too prideful to see the man’s point of view even if Techno made it clear he’ll help Tommy to get his disks back while Tommy helps him do some minor terrorism in L’Manberg.


The young boy thought it was easy, he thought he was okay that L’Manberg, his home, and the only memory of Wilbur will be harmed. But seeing his best friend shattered in front of him due to Tommy screaming he is lesser than the disc, Made him weak, made him disgusted at the very thing he wants to be okay with.

He never wanted to choose between the man he cares for and the place he held hurtful yet loving memories deep within. He should’ve known he is weak, he should’ve accepted the fact life can’t go in both ways as Techno, his father and his abuser teamed up to destroy everything he built up with his brother from the ground.


He should’ve accepted the fact his voices and insights are useless from the beginning…


He thought for sure he could heal when Dream finally got what he deserved, he wanted to heal. He wanted to move on with the people he cared for and love.


But why?


Why don’t you go visit him?


Why is it hard to finally be happy with himself through the bullshit and fuckery he felt?


It was never meant to be.


That quote echoes through his mind in endless nightmares was filling him to the brim, beginning to become hard to seal off.

When he stepped inside that cage with the man who ruined him, who he was supposed to finally move on and forget from.

It was his trapped and never his salvation.


He should’ve accepted the fact he’ll never get good things when he was shut in with his abuser.

He should’ve accepted the fact happiness can’t be attained as he was beaten to death.


He should’ve accepted life can never be fair when his vocal cords have been ripped out brutally leaving him unable to scream for help when he knows very well nobody will be there to get him out.


He should’ve known better when even the afterlife was not what he was expected and his brother was still the same man in Pogtopia.

And when he woke up from death and was saved by Sam…

He should’ve already at least ready himself that people would move on from his death when he was finally free physically but voiceless.

Jack has already taken his hotel. Tommy thought he would become furious but the only thing he discerned was numbness...


And when he finally saw Tubbo and Ranboo with a child in their care...they look like a happy family that moved on…


They left him and...he doesn’t know if he should be angry or sad or anything, but he was numb to the observation of his own mental deterioration, he was numb to mentally get angry, to scream even if he was mute.


Mute…


When he became mute, it felt like hell has risen from the ground because Tommy knows his brand. He is loud, abrasive, he doesn’t know when to shut up because that’s how he emotes.


Even though his words are always left unheard and now it’s literal.


He didn’t tell/write anyone he was unable to speak.


Because what’s the point? What will change when he tells the world he is mute? Some sympathy? He doesn’t like pity, he despised it.


But god, he was hoping for it. He was really hoping for someone to ask why he was quiet? why he was too silent? but no one did.


Only Ranboo and yet Tommy is unable to show why. It always felt painful, too tight, to blurry as if white puffs of hot air filled his vision and lungs.


He was scared  but he didn't want to admit it, he was now too vulnerable around L’Manberg.
It's stuffy and closed off around the place he had once called home…the safe place he wants to make.


He doesn’t know what to do.

The dull-eyed boy sat on the edge of his bed in complete silence. It was tight and suffocating, to say the least. He stared at the bag in front of him full of useful and needed things he can survive on.


He made a decision, but he doesn’t know if he should go on with it, but staying in this godforsaken country each and every day in silence with nothing to do felt incredibly painful…

He was supposed to be okay but here he was, mute and scarred beyond repair in a country that made him like this.

He was hoping to see people walking around L’Manberg but the only people he saw were Jack manifold and, of course, Sam nook, still outside his used-to-be Biginnit hotel. He was still wondering why the man is still staying around here considering the hotel is done.


He already knows Ranboo and Tubbo are living in Snowchester with their son happily so what’s the point? He can visit for sure, but being unable to talk can bring to an uneventful evening and be ignored a lot.


He stared at the bag more, decisions fighting desperately with a conclusion to end on. He was tired beyond belief, exhausted mentally and physically that he cannot comprehend sitting here for the next day to redo the cycle of stillness.

He yearns for something but he doesn’t know what is.

These past days or even years there's this gaping hole inside his chest that grows ever so slightly.

He was itching for something, but staying here in L’Manberg is not one of them.


So he stood up from his bed, carefully letting out a puff of air from his soundless throat. He grabbed his bag slinging it over his shoulder to waist, his gray eyes gazed back at his old dirt-shack with emotions he wanted to muster but was unable to.


Chests that are empty lined up in a row pressed against the dirt walls, the soil floor blooming with small flowers showing how much time passed, and his bed clean for the first time in years.


He noticed a compass sitting on top of the chests. He walked towards it, grabbing the string-like yarn attached to the sphere. Tommy’s pupils traced every detail and corner the compass has as it finally stopped onto the letters engraved behind it.


Your Tubbo.

A mellow smile formed on his scarred young face, he gripped the thread tighter but every second he started to let go. He grabbed the note he prepared from his pocket, which is a little crumpled up due to being in a tight space.


He put it down on one of the chests along with the compass, laying above the goodbye note heavily.


He can say goodbye in person to everyone he cared about but he doesn’t want to be stopped, his mind is finally made up and he doesn’t want people to sway his own judgment any further.


He stepped away turning to the door but not without giving another final glance at the used-to-be L’manberg embassy.


He gave a humorless smile finally turning back to the door and leaving the entrance open.


He walked by the prime path, spiking up every memory he can see even if it hurts him, he doesn’t know if he’ll even come back here at all. His eyes wander towards the crater who made a dent in the center of the region.


Tommy stood a little distance at the edge, the crater spans from the docks of L'Manberg until the stairway up the mountain. For short it was huge as the hole ended in bedrock.


His eyes stared at the giant gaping canyon that seems to gaze back at the scrawny teen. He looked up to the horizon far away, the sun rising up slowly for another day.

It’s sad in a way history will never be erased and the past will never change.

His pupils reflected the deem sky full of colors- purple, pink, blue, and yellow. The clouds moving slowly around the earth's orbit as the sun is starting to welcome the people with its warm heart.


Tommy closed his eyes, he breathed in feeling the cold air hitting the goosebumps embedded on his skin, with scars littered all over the years he endured. A shiver wracked up in his body finally letting go of the very thread he used to desperately clung on.

The red thread of L’Manberg he used to dangle between life and death is starting to slip between his scarred fingers.

And he is...strangely okay with it.

He opened his vision slowly, his gaze strong with newly founded determination, and his hand clenched from the adventure he was about to witness.


He needs to move on and being here will never help him.


He looked back at the huge canyon as he cracked a small lopsided grin filled with sadness but with something he cannot pinpoint. He needs to find himself again even if the world doesn’t want him to.

He cannot give up now.

“What are you doing here, Tommy?”


A familiar voice behind him spoke almost jolting up the young boy from his calm stupor “Whoa there! uh...Sorry if I scared you...” The awkward Enderman apologized to the small teen who has finally looked at him.

Tommy only stared back, brows arched in confusion until he registered the question. He nodded slowly, standing up more properly as if wanting to be as tall as the hybrid. Even though Tommy is short as fuck compared to him.


Ranboo was about to talk again until he saw a backpack behind the young man, his brows tying together a little “I uhh...don’t mean to pry but uh- where are you going?” Tommy mentally cursed being caught too quickly in the morning.

But he can’t help but recognize two emotions that are raging inside of him when he sees Ranboo.

And he doesn’t want to say it out loud even though he doesn’t have a voice anymore.

Tommy opened his mouth to answer yet he closed it shut fastly, fingers curling in his palm, his nails digging onto his skin.


He stared at the tall figure in front of him who looks anxious yet calmly patient, waiting for the youngest to answer.


Acceptance and jealousy started to flood him.


Jealousy was never his forte, he doesn’t want to admit he has those feelings when Ranboo is around but as the saying goes ‘you can’t ignore it forever. ’ 

The burning rage and sadness plagued him when he saw Ranboo with his ex-father and Brother as if he has been replaced, As if he was never good enough to begin with.


The jealousy and anguish when he saw Tubbo being happier around the tall hybrid than Tommy will ever be to him.


Each day he was plagued by those emotions till those feelings vanquished into thin air when Ranboo was finally close enough to be heard clearly by the younger teen.


“Tommy?”


A soft worried voice called out for him…


The blond boy realized he was staring at the ground absentmindedly, his eyes flickering towards Ranboo as if checking he was really there.


“Are you okay?”


Ranboo is the only one who asked him that question when no one else did.

Ranboo is the only one who is trying to understand him patiently.

Ranboo is the only one who visited him during exile.

Ranboo is the only one trying to talk to him.

Ranboo is the only one who cared.

And it made his anger boil into tired acceptance.


He looked up to the Enderman.


Ranboo is everything he will never be.


And he's okay with that.


Tommy nodded his head at the question as Ranboo got a little surprised seeing a small grin on Tommy’s face, a genuine one so rare these days.


The blond boy turns slowly to the canyon a little, savoring every bit of tranquility he can muster.


Ranboo slowly yet hesitantly went next to him, looking at whatever the youngest is gazing at and without notice, the blond boy opens his bag to get something he remembered, rough hands holding what appears to be a purple flower.


Tommy looked at it, his locks swaying gently against the breeze as he looked up to the tall hybrid.

He was surprised he didn't burned it, he remembered how furious he was when finding out Tubbo chose Ranboo over him. He wanted to set the flower on fire in front of the two, he desperately wanted to...but he didn't. And it might be one of few things his thankful he didn't do.

Ranboo finally glanced at Tommy, instantly his red and green eyes clung onto the allium flower.
He felt himself stutter a bit when Tommy gently handed it to him.


Ranboo’s shocked gaze stuck onto the plant, his hand gripped the small fragile flower studying the stem and the small individual petals. The tall boy gazes back at Tommy, who is observing the flower he was holding.


Something in Tommy’s cased look reeked with nostalgia as Ranboo tries to spit out words that are understandable.


“You- I uh...Is this the...is this the flower I gave you when...when we first met?” The hybrid’s voice trembled slightly, clutching the flower as if it’s the most precious thing in existence. Tommy’s head perked up to him, a small nod confirmed his question.

Ranboo is...shock. He thought Tommy had burned it but he...he didn't...

Ranboo silently gapes at him, words still hard to conjure up a sentence, so he only utters out a small question.

“Why?”


Tommy only shrugged, his head turning back towards the sunrise quietly.


If Ranboo focused enough on Tommy’s face, he could’ve noticed how watery the teen’s eyes look.


“I...I thought you hated me?”  Tommy somewhat snorted at the notion, shaking his head gently.
Ranboo’s chest started to warm, but he can’t help but notice the bag Tommy is carrying, he can’t help but question him like in the beginning.


“You don’t have to answer, b-but where are you going?” Tommy’s movement halted like a frozen statue, his expression turned sour for a bit making the Enderman scared thinking he messed up.


He opened his mouth to reassure the teen he didn't have to answer but he was cut off when Tommy brought out a small notebook and a feathered pen with ink.


He wrote something in the pages where the Enderman can’t see, till Tommy gave him the notebook.


He glanced at Tommy questioningly but he looked down at the paper. He was met with one small word.


'Leaving.'

Ranboo choke, his free hand slipping through his bangs as he turned back to Tommy with bewilderment, he stared at Tommy as if he was joking, as if all of this are just a huge misunderstanding.


But he was given a sad smile.


And Ranboo finally, yet painfully understood what it meant.

“S-so...you're leaving?” Tommy nodded.


“But what...what about L’Manberg?” Ranboo felt selfish with his question hoping Tommy won’t take it wrong and scream at him but Tommy only looked at the crater and shrugged.


Tired eyes that are so used to be full of energy and wonder. He was so stupid and shitty for worrying about Tommy's wrath than the blond himself, he really is a coward.


“But...what ab-about Tubbo?” Tommy shrugged again, his gaze going back to Ranboo, and hesitantly pointed at him. The hybrid stared perplex at the motion “What about me…?” Tommy pointed at his chapped lips.


Mouth motioning trying to speak yet unable to.


‘He has…’

As he pointed at Ranboo again.

‘you.’

Tommy grinned widely, eyes closed with a genuine expression so rare these months from the younger teen himself…


He mouthed again when Ranboo started to feel tears burning his vision.


‘It’s okay…’

The tall young man stared at him, his head turning down to look at the book reading the words over and over again until his muddled mind started to clear.


He gently gave the notebook to his friend who held it away from his hand.


Ranboo bit his lips, clawed fingers tightening around the allium flower on his lap. He looked back at Tommy, eyes locking away the burning tears that will break free.


“Do you want your flower back?” Ranboo crooked out the question, a forced smile straining his cheeks.

Tommy shook his head, his hands moving sternly but delicately cupping around Ranboo’s as if securing the flower that started their friendship in the beginning.

Ranboo was silent for a moment, tears visioning him savoring The younger boy’s hands squeezing his comfortingly.


Tommy was never one to give comfort, but he tries...and he hopes Ranboo knows he’s thankful.
Thankful for being there when the world was harsh towards him.


Tommy let goes of Ranboo’s hand as he was ready to leave. Ready to finally heal.


He went back to the prime path but not before The hybrid asked him one last question.


“Do you want me to tell Tubbo?” The question buzzed the blond’s mind. He turns his head towards the hybrid who was adorning a small smile, a smile that sadly understands.


Tommy shook his head “Okay, I won’t tell, I promise.” Tommy gave one final smile and a wave.

He mouthed.

‘Thank you for everything.’

He moved, continuing to the prime path’s exit, he heard a distant ‘Goodbye’ from the hybrid.


Tommy saw the buildings that were left from the crossed fire. His heart will hold these reminders, even if it’s heavy, he's okay with it. He hasn't made peace with it yet but he hopes he will someday, he hopes these paths will remind him of good days, remind him on how he ran through this wooden floors with Tubbo just to get Nikki's famous cookies and more.


He finally saw the exit, he stepped towards it closely at the edge but he stopped for a moment, staring at his dirty shoes and to what was in front of him…as if there is a barrier between him and the unmarked territory, he breathed in breaking it down. 

He looks back soaking up every image he can remember, he gives one more disappointed but hopeful smile to the place he once called home.

‘Goodbye L’Manberg, you cursed ass country.’

He stepped out of the prime path, looking across the deem morning light.

for once in his life.

He finally felt free.

Chapter Text

Freedom never tasted this lonely, but he already expected that from the beginning when he finally made the choice to leave and heal. There are times in his travels where he can’t help but look back at his previous pathways as his inner monologue started to whisper uncertainty on his decisions.

But he already made up his mind so a few whispers of doubt will not change him. He passed by a few landmarks moving farther and farther away from his old home. He has to take stops and trade with villagers making his trips more longer than expected.

He was munching some bread, walking on the stone pathway to climb the small green hill. His strands of hair flutter from the puffs of wind. The teen gave out a tired breath, wiping away a few bids of sweat on his forehead. He eventually went on top of the dirt hill, reveling as if what he did was the impossible, because obviously, he did.

He preserved the clarity and beauty of the bluest pastel skies, fluffiest faint clouds that glide along the blue wall.
Silhouettes of mountains that are so far away from his touch, and the green grass and flowers tumbling gently from the breeze beneath the hill he was standing on.

It was breathtaking.


He felt something vibrate against his pocket, breaking away his state like trance, he looked down at the perpetrator grabbing what's inside and pulling out what appears to be a communicator. He observed in slight shock, the blond thought he left this gadget back at his old home but he guessed he forgot of its existence.

Curiosity rippled into him. He scanned the circular metal device that is full of scratch marks but still in a functioning state. He bit the inside of his cheek seeing the button in the middle, his finger itching to press it, reading whatever message that pops up.

He’ll be honest, even though honesty is a foreign language he is still learning. He missed his friends, even if they never spoke to him or even send a glance at his way...he still missed the times where Tubbo would say some random ass shit that made you question his sanity but still laugh at the questionable yet stupid things he has done.

He missed Ranboo’s soft and understanding personality that made Tommy comfortable around the hybrid.

He missed Sam nook, who protected him and Tubbo from the badlands, and has helped him move on with his biginnit hotel even if it seems futile. Puffy too, she was so patient with him all over the months he had talked or interacted with her.

Quackity has been fairly distant lately but he was still around, creating this light and fun aura around the teen and him.

He missed Eret who is still redeeming himself, he missed Fundy being a snarky little shit who steals stuff too…

He missed a lot of people...


And Awesamedude…

When he had finally escaped that wretched prison, he wanted to scream. 

To just yell at Sam, on why? Why did Sam leave him when he needed the creeper hybrid the most. He thought he finally had someone on his side, who was an adult who actually cared for him, he wanted so badly to tell Sam that he was angry, that he was hurt, but due to being mute, he was unable to do so…

But even if he was able to talk, to express his rage, wanting to punch the hybrid's chest as he wanted to scream profanities as loud as he can.

He just stood there. Deathly tired to feel any emotions and just so exhausted.

He saw how Sam breaks, how he vomited words of apologies with no excuses, he saw a disheveled guilty man who is genuinely sorry, who sincerely wanted to fix and redeem himself for Tommy.

The only thing Tommy did was...giving a pat on Sam's shoulder as he passed by without a glance, leaving the older man to...to do what sad wardens do.

Tommy knows his gesture looks heartless, looks cruel. But honest to prime- he was so tired of everything around him that he can’t rationally think anymore.

He sat down on the luscious grass gently with his bag leaning on his legs, still feeling the cold wind fluffing his hair a bit as the mood felt the usual somber atmosphere.

He stared more at the device, thoughts and curiosity glued onto his mind.

It wouldn’t hurt to just peek...right?

Tommy pressed the button, and with a sound of a click. Almost every holographic tab has blasted onto his face with messages from public to private. He flinched, almost getting a heart attack.

But before even dying, he saw the messages.



Awesamdude: Have you guys seen Tommy?


CaptainPuffy: No, I was trying to find him too but there isn’t any sign of him anywhere.


Quackity: Have you checked on him at his house?


CaptainPuffy: Tubbo already checked there and he hasn’t contacted me yet for like, days now.


Fundy: What are you guys talking about?


CaptainPuffy: Read the old messages fundy.


Fundy: OhHhhhh...I thought he was at L’Manberg or something, is he missing then?


Awesamdude: I don’t even know.



The topic is already summed up from those messages, he was so surprised to find out people actually noticed he was gone, he felt warmth undergo beneath his skin but it was instantly removed and replaced with slight guilt when he saw the whispered messages.



Awesamdude whispers to you: Tommy, where are you?



Fundy whispers to you: Bro there asking where you are.



CaptainPuffy whispers to you: Where are you? I haven’t seen you anywhere for like, a week now.



Quackity whispers to you: Yo, where are you? People are trying to find you.


His stomach recoiled while reading the messages till he saw something that deepened the unbridled guilt more.


Tubbo whispers to you: Tommy?



Tubbo whispers to you: Tommy?



Tubbo_ started a call that lasted 4 minutes.



Tubbo_whispers to you: Tommy?

Tubbo_whispers to you: I got your note.

Tubbo_whispers to you: Please tell me you're okay.

Tubbo_ started a call that lasted 7 minutes.

Tubbo_whispers to you: Tell me where you are so I can get to you.

Tubbo_whispers to you: If this is a joke, you got me. Haha, funny so please tell me where you are.



Tubbo_whispers to you: please pick up.

Tubbo_ started a call that lasted 20 minutes.



He read every message Tubbo sent him till the newest one today. And every message he read, he felt something hot in his eyes.

Tubbo_whispers to you: Please...please tell me where you are, it’s been weeks now…please just...just pick up.

Tubbo_ started a call that lasted 40 minutes.




Tommy felt a sense of desperation on every message.

If he doesn’t know any better, he would’ve grin and jokingly say how clingy Tubbo is.

But his heart tightens with his throat, eyes watering as the warm liquid threatens to fall.
He was still staring and scrolling at the sentences, till his vision is completely blurry and the words are nothing more but soft, white and obscure texts.

He stopped scrolling, wiping away the tears that are starting to spill.

Fuck, his crying, how fantastic.

Tommy really really hated crying, he always associates it with something weak and unfitting for a strong man like himself but every experience, every pain, every whirlwind of closed-off emotions he chalked up into himself over the past years is starting to bubble up to the surface.

He always remembers a scene that played on the back of his head in repeat.

A scene where his Brother wailed, seeing the walls of a country they fought for torn down.

A scene where his father cried, cradling the corpse of his brother.

A scene where his older brother teared up, screaming that he is a person and not just the blade to be used.

A scene where Tubbo sobbing silently when they thought it’s their final goodbye.

Scene after scene where adults and children shed tears because of tragedies played on his mind.

Made you think of how much a strong human being would finally break down.

He never cried, not when he saw his nation got blown up so many times.
Not when his dad killed the only person who has been there for him every day and time.
Not when he was exiled and left with Dream to damage him almost completely.
Not when he thought his best friend was going to die.
Not when he was beaten to death by the very same man who abuses him.

Not when he finally realized that Wilbur in the afterlife is the same man in pogtopia.

But why?

Tears started to overflow down to his scarred young cheek.


Why is he crying now when he didn’t in those painful memories?


He wrecked up a hitched sob from his mouth, his palms wiping away the warm shards of water that won’t seem to go away but only multiply more.


Is it because he knows crying won’t solve anything? Is it because he felt selfish and too prideful to show those kinds of emotions?


Or is it because he knows deep within him, nobody would care?


Because for him, seeing the messages that are finally focused on his absence is both heartwarming yet too painful...so painful.

Since when did they ever show their concern when he was at his lowest? When he was at his pinnacle of depression? As much as he hated to admit his age but he was a child for god’s sake.
He hated the word, he hated the fact he was a kid but it was agonizingly frustrating when he is at his last life even though said life has been taken away from him for two empty months.

He wasn’t 18 yet, and here he was, leaving his home due to everything he felt, due to the fact if he didn’t move on right now he will break more and more till he finally comes back to the nether and stares at the lava to complete his unfinished business.


And he doesn’t want that to happen.


A new message popped up on his radar, he wiped away his tears begrudgingly, wanting to see it clearly, still sniffling like the idiot he was.


Ranboo whispers to you: I hope you’re doing alright, remember, you are always welcomed with open arms here.


The warm feeling came again, his sniffles becoming silent while pressing his legs against his chest, wrapping his arms around it to secure himself from falling apart.

It’s bittersweet in a way, Tommy was always pushed into this hero slot by everyone around him.

And he took it without any protest, and now he wondered why...Why did he accept the label when it’s clear to him that he can’t handle the pressure? It was always scary for him, to be standing face to face on a destiny that was presented to him.


Hero’s don’t get happy endings.


A heart-rending smile took place on his face, his palm wiping away the remaining tears that, thankfully, stopped spilling.

The sentence is true now, he’ll never get a happy ending in L’Manberg, he will never prosper as a hero and a leader.


But he remembers why he left in the first place.


His head looked up to the blue sky, the sun up in the blue horizon glowing faintly. He turned at his side, his temple leaning on his left forearm gazing down to his bag and spotting a flower next to it, swaying from the soft breeze steadily.

Hesitantly, his right hand moved towards it, his fingers brushing against the dandelion with a somber look on his face.


He’s still here, he may have died so many times but he’s here.


He may have seen his country blown up but he is still here.


Hero’s may not get happy endings but this doesn’t mean it’s the end for him.


Whatever end he’ll get, he’ll accept it, for now…


He closed his communicator, grabbing his bag carefully as the blonde boy stood up, hands still holding both of its straps.

He looked back at the far valley of the horizon’s skyline, hope fueled him for a new era.


A new adventure.


Let him heal, let him discover the sides he never had the chance to discover.

He smiled faintly, it is such a bittersweet conclusion between him and l’Manberg. He isn’t a hero anymore, he’s just a kid now.


And for all the burdens and shackles he was placed in, he was starting to unlock them in each path, in each decision, and in each emotion, he discovers in this journey.


He sucked in a handful of air, showering beneath the warm heat while his mind roamed with tranquility.


It’s gut-wrenching, but he’s letting go of his old responsibilities and making new ones.


He stepped off the hill and towards the flat surface of the earth, and started walking, passing by the trees and nature that surrounded him. The sounds of crickets in the deepest part of the forest soothe him to his core.

He learned a lot about being mute, how his ears, nose, and eyes became sharper and resilient in a way due to being those senses that will help him notice any dangers.


Hearing the sound of leaves from trees rustling, adjusting on the sturdy air.
The soft songs of chirps from birds above branches, and light feet crunching against the grassy floor full of yellow, red, or even pink leaves from what appears to be autumn. Is more calming than the sounds of swords clashing, adults shouting, withers spawning and bombs exploding.


The smell of almost minty pine trees befalls onto his perception, such as herbs and the scent of fresh soil and wildflowers. He can even smell the river, detecting the dampened aroma as he passed by it. Unlike the smell of L’manberg that is filled with the remaining gun powders or even a tinged of blood.


His vision being invaded by nature around him. Trees that are different variations of brown and almost reddish to his gaze, the rough and scaly texture he felt as his palm pressed against it.

The leaves are vibrant with warm colors with other kinds of shade that signify autumn around these places. Light peeking above the open spaces from the evergreen cover hitting his blond hair as he saw the dust particles come to light.

Grass that is greener than L’Manbergs own gardens that aren’t replaced by the biggest crater he had ever seen and the red vines that littered around the place.


Until he halted his movement, stumbling upon a huge space with no trees around it, only the rows of branches full of leaves that are way up high to cover the huge empty grass scope underneath. It’s like a rooftop but a few strands of faint light hitting the green ground.


Tommy walked forward, scurrying to see if this is a good spot to make a house and finally settle in. He opened his coordinates seeing a good amount of kilometers he had walked on foot, 1,474 to be exact, he can’t help but feel pride swell onto his chest when he saw how much he had traveled.


He tosses his bag as it slopes against a tree trunk. The teen rolled his sleeves to his elbows ready to make a magnificent house, this time it isn’t a dirt shack.


He grinned widely, ecstatic to make the coolest house that will put shame on Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s mansion and Foolish’s summer home.


And even the prison.

Chapter Text

Well, it’s not as big as the mansion or the summer house or the shitty prison, but it’s still nice to look at. Tommy smiled to himself, giving a mental pat on the back, standing in front of the new house or cabin he made.

It isn’t big but it’s enough for him to sustain comfortably inside, with a bedroom big enough to sleep in, a kitchen to cook with, a living room to chill on, and a storage room to store stuff inside. He swung the wooden neck of the axe on his shoulder, sighing in contempt.

It’s been days now, trying to sustain a cozy living space around here is quite hard but with enough determination, he can even say it’s fun. The wooden spruce log is not really hard to get, but making the fences around the house, big enough to hold a garden, took him a lot of hours to do.

He's been working on a small-scale project, making a nice picnic table with a chair in the middle of a forest but it’s contained inside the fences just close to his house. He went back to the crafting table near the wooden barrier, crafting some wooden slabs for the table and seat.

A Lot of ideas pop up in his head, and one of his extraordinary plans is making a cobblestone tower but he moved away from the project because-
1.He has to mine stone in a cave.
2. It will take a long time to do that.
3. his lazy.

But it’s still in his to-do lists though. But there is another idea that screams in his mind.

A flower garden.

Tommy is a man. The biggest man to ever live on this earth and flowers are very unmanly…
Well, if the past Tommy was the one who said that. But now it’s the manliest thing Tommy will ever do.

The teen has been collecting flowers from different biomes he visited or discovered, not sure why but he has now been fascinated by the colors, the different breeds it has, and the unique smells it emits.
He just likes to have it around his house, and the thought of sitting down at his newly made picnic table surrounded by flowers as nature bordered around him gave the blond a mixture of Excitement and restfulness.

A small smile came to place when he finally put the last piece of what the table needed, a chair, obviously. His hand grabbed the headrest of the seat scooting it over to him, he sat down with a tired slump while his axe lay on the green ground. His head leaning behind the wooden top frame of the chair making his head tilted upwards toward the sky, covered behind by leaves from the evergreen hair.

He stared up comfortably, vision dawning upon some fallen leaves that are too far away to hit him, the stream of bright blue skies preening above the green roof daze him in a relaxing way.

His mind filled with silence.

Tommyinnit never liked silence because his thoughts will burden him, he always needed a distraction, a person to converse with to hide behind the overflowing thoughts that will stab him if he is vulnerable.

But here he is. Alone and quiet, yet it’s the calmest time he was ever thrust in, maybe fear of the anticipation of voices in his head made him avoid being lonely. Exile never treated him like this, exile never gave him the tranquility, the peace, the time to breathe.

But why is this different? Why isn’t he thrashing around like a caged animal due to the silence, the same isolation of never seeing anyone?

He closed his blue hooded eyes, ears focusing on his surroundings. The sound of leaves falling gently to the ground sometimes make him paranoid that the smiling man was around, the birds chirping make him somewhat flinch and look around at any sign of hostility and the painful reminder of a family member.

Fear is still present just beneath his ribcage, beneath the deepest part of his heart and mind.
Yet why does he feel the blissful scent of freedom now? Why does he feel the overwhelming sense of fascination throughout his environment he never thought he’ll ever exhibit since L’Manberg has first fallen?

His head turned lazily at his bag that was sitting on top of the new table in front of him, he grabbed something inside of it, finding a particular item that started all of this, well, one of them at least.

The cat disk.

He stared at the vinyl, emotions festered fastly but died out at the same rate, his fingertips touch the smooth lines that are embedded on the black disk. Eyes downcasted enough to shut his vision again. He rested his back on the chair, the disk held by two scarred hands sitting above his lap, his head leaning against the headrest again, eyes still closed as he hummed a soft tone that his voiceless cords can muster.

He still can hear the guitar strums from Wilbur, strumming till there is no tomorrow and only focused on the now. How both of them will scream out the lyrics obnoxiously till people told them to shut up.

And how in the coldest of nights where is the most quiet inside their warm house and tents, he filled it with sound, with his voice drowning away the silence, conquering everyone's attention towards the brown-haired man.

Music is always part of his family, Phil will hum a soft tune while rummaging around the house to either clean or just cook around the kitchen, how techno would whistle lowly while going outside to gather resources, and how he would open a jukebox so music can flow throughout there house while he sang along.

 

Even if his voice isn’t as gentle as Philza.

 

Low as Techno and smooth as Wilbur.

His voice was his and his only.

So he hummed, ignoring the feeling of his throat tightened by the nostalgia, by the steal, by losing a huge part of him. Or losing all of him completely.

Yet as much grief and torn his heart can muster, he felt warm.

He opens his gaze again slowly, meeting the golden feathers of trees that fall, yet it glides like a kite in the still breath of wind till it stumbles gently on its final destination. The birds ease him, chirps sounding like melodies from his old jukebox that soften him when no one will, and seeing them fly freely from another tree to the next bubbled a spark in his irises.

He sighs, finally standing up from his warrant rest. He looked down at his other hand holding the disk.

Attachments were his weakness, the disks were his weakness, and every time when he looked at the vinyl, he was blinded by hostility, to keep, to protect, to kill. He was the easiest to control but at the same time, one of the hardest.

But now staring down at the disks…

Resignation replaced all those hostilities, regret replaced all those possessiveness…

And Acceptance finally came to place that the disks were the problem, his blind pride was his problem…

His stubbornness, in the end, became the determinant of his own choices.

So he put the disks aside, putting them back in his bag. He went to his inventory seeing it was full of flowers and seeds ready to build an empire of flowers to intimidate those who looked or even glimpsed at his house.

His hand is covered by soot and dirt, burying the roots of the last batch of flowers in his inventory. Leaning towards the ground where the flowers were now stem, he patted the brown soil.

His head looking over the fences and out to the trees, seeing the forest start to darken due to the sun finally resting. Tommy stood up grabbing a bucket full of water, pouring a good amount at the plants.

He walked along the cobblestone path in the middle of a flurry of flowers on each full side of his house. The aroma of an abundance of florets filled the area in a pleasant scent that was full of refreshing serenity.

He moved to another cobblestone pathway free from flowers, heading towards the left side of the field, a small circular space empty from plants and only green grass, stood the picnic table, now with a small wooden shade atop of it acting as an umbrella, where a tea set lay on the cloth.

He put down the bucket on the red and white checkered fabric that covered the tabletop, he took a seat on his chair, relishing to let his muscles rest for a bit before he went back to his cabin.

It’s been days now since he started planting them, it took longer than he wanted it to, but gazing upon the yard full of soft pastel colors from different types of variety the flowers held, he can proudly say it’s worth it.

He cracked his knuckles but stopped for a moment seeing how dirty his palms and fingers were. The blond boy’s fingertips were ingrained with dusted dirt, his palm rough from planting too much until he noticed scars, healed ones.


Tommy likes getting his hands dirty from work because he is married to the grind. He likes working hard even if he sometimes steals some shit from other residents from l’Manberg. It was simple at first, building his country to the ground up, every sweat and determination focusing on that goal to make a safe haven where they can be free from tyranny.


But his hand started to fester away from dirt and aspirations to blood and death. Where more scars and wounds littered his body till he cannot count it between his fingers.


Scars from fighting with dream and his followers or anyone, and scars from the people he used to clutch on for guidance...


He clenched his palm softly, his pupils capturing a group of bowkays that was closed in his peripheral vision.


Their petals varying from pink, white and green, and yellow. He felt a bitter smile interjecting onto him.


He wonders if it’s normal for families to fight, to scream at each other…


To hurt one another.


But for his family, it’s almost strained between them, who in their right mind thinks blowing up his home is sending a message?


They hurt him just as much as dream did.


His father was supposed to be there for him, he was supposed to at least ask him if he was okay . Just for someone to at least acknowledge the blonde that he isn’t fine, not in the long shot...but his own dad never did, he left with Technoblade, he chose favorites and only blew up his home as a means to communicate without words that he disowned Tommy.

Technoblade hurts him for his cold demeanor, his indoor personality made the blond feel like an intruder when he talks to the pig-hybrid in pogtopia.

But he physically hurt Tommy as well. The pit felt like where his connection to his older brother vanished, he will admit that he was so adamant to fight Technoblade, much to the dismay of the hybrid.


Yet after everything that went between them, Technoblade gave him a home when he escaped from the grasps of his abuser, Tommy really thought that their relationship would mend but that went downhill so fast that the dull-eyed boy can’t process what just happened.


And Wilbur…


Tommy sucked in a handful of air, the sweet smell of plants gathering around him.


What is he supposed to think about the man who verbally abused him? Hell, even hurt him physically? It felt so much like exile...or exile felt so much like Pogtopia.


Wilbur is his friend...his brother, the one who always got Tommy's back on the brink of downfall.
But he changed one more way where Tommy can’t even compute without hurting himself in the process.


The teen used to wonder if it’s his fault his brother became like this…
He wonders if it's his fault that the brunette got killed.

They all hurt him, they all left him.


And the worst part is.


He couldn't hate them, even if his brain wanted to, screaming and begging to end this familiar feeling.


His heart can not do what his mind wished and kept hoping, and hoping , and hoping …
Like a child waiting in this vast world for something, someone to hold him, whispering that it’s going to be okay.

Tommy chewed on his lip, grabbing the small metallic kettle to pour himself some tea to ease something in his chest. He brought the small teacup to his mouth with both of his hands, the warm porcelain pressed onto his palm, the smell of Chamomile Tea Pervade his nostrils.

The scent of warm herbal, sweet, and fresh that beckons him to sleep in the cold night comfortably.

The taste of sweetened green apple and Honey, Tommy smiled a little remembering a certain someone. The liquid mouth-filled silk on his tongue bursts in melancholy flavor yet remains clean as he down it onto its last drop.

The unsettling anxiety dropped down cushioning the kid to calm from the thoughts that swarm him.


He finally stood up, grabbing the tea kettle set and passing the flowers to his front door. He looked back at the field that gave a sense of a safe place he always dreamed of.


He should sleep so he can wake up early to plant more armies of flowers.


He opened the door and finally rested away from the world he used to think of as a cage.

Chapter Text

      - -


Yup I have an instagram if you guys wanted to see my pile of shit UwU
: https://www.instagram.com/spenobii/

Chapter Text

"Caw"

The crow mewled, their head dipping sidley at the teen, sitting on top of the handkerchief that laid onto the kitchen table inside the blond's house.

The teen only sighs, nodding his head to the blackbird that they can move now, even though their left-wing is bruised missing a few feathers that is an important contribution for them to fly.

"Caw!"

Tommy clicked his tongue, grabbing the scissors to cut through the remaining bandage that is wrapped around the bird’s bleeding wing, he put the scissors down and then started putting the medical kit back in its rightful place.

The Crow was stubborn at best, always moving around not wanting to be treated, which Tommy understands. Philza’s crows don't like him anymore, they used to when he was little but when Philza’s opinion turned sour on Tommy, the whole crow community rallied behind the old man on his behalf.

But Tommy seriously doesn’t give a shit anymore when he literally woke up at 4 AM in the morning due to hearing a bird squawking in pain outside his window, he thought it was just a random bird that was hurt but, of course, the universe wanted to make things hard for him and gave him a piece of Philza’s chat.

Tommy has two options.

1. Just ignore it and go back to his deep slumber or 2. Check what the hell is happening.

And it’s already obvious that he chooses the second option, look, as much as Tommy has bad memories when it comes to the blackbirds that scream death if he so much as look at them, they are part of his childhood, they somewhat raise him in a way.

Tommy felt a sharp peck on his arm, he moved it away from the smug-looking bird, he glared at them with a deep frown but it just melted away in an instant, replaced by a dejected small breath.

Tommy is too tired for this. He stood away from his chair, leaving the crow behind him as he rummaged inside the upper cupboards taking out a singular golden apple, he placed it down to the counter while grabbing a small plate.

"Caw!"

The crow bellowed as if trying to get the teen's attention which did work. Tommy whistled softly back at the blackbird, who in return stood quiet for a duration of Tommy cutting the golden apples in slices.


"Caw! Caaaw!"

Tommy finally turns back at the injured flock with a small plate of apple slices. The bird still looks smug as if proud they finally got Tommy’s attention, but instantly their beady eyes track against the golden slices, their gaze shining in hunger.

Tommy grinned amusingly, placing the plate in front of the crow and the winged creature didn’t waste time to hungrily peck onto it. Tommy huffed in regale, finally sitting back at his chair again and not being pecked on by this rude bird.

The background in his house is silent, only the bird’s constant beak hitting the apple can be heard. Tommy turned to the window in front of the side of his table, his gaze moving above the garden and fence to where the crow was found.

Beneath the tree trunk where the bird was sprawled in pain, unable to fly because their secondaries part of the wing was practically torn up a bit, bleeding profusely on the ground.

Thank god, he knows how to treat bird wings because of the bucket hat man. Tommy’s stomach recoils somewhat, slumping slightly against the chair not trying to suppress the memory that keeps dwelling deeper at times.

He can’t really overpower it forever, the whole reason why he was even here is to heal and find himself again even if it’s incredibly hard to do so.

His finger tapped against the wooden tabletop. He recalled the time where Philza’s birds often annoyed the hell out of him when he was still younger but it was always in a light attempt to get the boy's intuition.

They often plan with Tommy to prank on his two older brothers and Philza, but when they get found out they always dump the blame on him but Philza always knows the crows are a part of the grandmaster's plan.

They always fly ahead with Tommy, either to squawkingly annoy him or just to hang out with him like a bodyguard in the air, with the eyes and the non-existent ears patrolling the area.

And sometimes...when things bother Tommy, the crows always notice it, they always try to assemble comfort around the teen to either snuggle onto him or give him stuff as they rumble a soft purr.

His eyes crinkled, a sour taste left his mouth, nasty and unbridled with memories he often wanted to forget.

It’s such a shame that era in his life ended too soon. Life really does go on and on without any pause of a revelation nor a discussion.


It’s always left unsaid inside a basement no one really visits anymore.

He felt something pinch on his arm again, this time it’s like a gentle tap. He looked down at the bird who stared back at him, curious eyes darting onto the young boy, waiting for Tommy to respond.

“caw.”

The sound was almost silent but the boy still heard it. He whistled back softly making the bird jump a little, beady gaze shining in what Tommy can describe as both surprise and...relieve? It’s hard to tell if a bird even feels emotions or not.

The crow bopped their head energetically as if their wings weren't broken. It made the teen grin widely “Caw!” they pipe loudly, Tommy recognizing a familiar nostalgia coming back even for a bit.

It’s sad that Tommy can’t understand what the blackbird is saying, only Philza knows the language of the crows or someshit. Who knows? Maybe the bird is cussing him out without Tommy even realizing it.

He looked at the clock behind him that was plastered on top of the door, 6:30 Am.

Tommy clicked his tongue again remembering to water the flowers before getting breakfast, he stood up from his seat intending to let the bird sit on the table patiently. The crow tilted their head.

He sucked onto his bottom lip. He planted his hand on his chest and pointed at the door signifying his going out. While pointing at the crow, to the wooden table gesturing to the injured creature to stay here.

“Caw! CAW!”

Tommy pursed his lips, expecting this outcome to happen. The bird hopped a little recklessly trying to fly but they only winced painfully in the process. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose really wanting to ignore the pout in their stare.

Tommy sternly glares back, both of them starting to form an intense staring contest, and he swears to fucking prime the bird is slowly doing the goddamn puppy eyes. Tommy threw his arms up with a deep frown trying to look intimidating, but the crow only titters quietly at the blond.

Tommy huffed irritatingly, putting down his arms at his side, finally giving in this shitty ass contest.

He leaned his shoulder towards the creature who jumped on for the ride, Tommy clicked his tongue again, steadily turning towards the door with the rude bird who was cawing energetically.

It’s gonna be a long day…

Tommy wrote something on his notebook, the Crow still on his shoulder tilted their head. Tommy was back at the picnic table, scribbling questions towards the bird to find out how they got here in the first place.

The teen knows that Philza’s crows can read human literature, smart beings really. Tommy showed what he had written, handwriting a little crude but understandable to decipher.


‘How did you get here?’

The bird cawed. Pointing at the pen Tommy is holding, the blond gave it to the crow who snatched it with their beak.

They leap onto the table, scribbling roughly on the paper what appears to be a squiggly rectangle standing up. Tommy looked back at them and to the paper while the bird gave him his pen back.

Tommy scribbled.

‘Netherportal?’

They nodded.


‘Do you know where it is?’

They hesitantly shook their head sadly.

‘How did you get injured?’


The boy gave the pen back the blackbird who scribbled a really crude Z
They gave back the pen to the child with a soft squeak.


‘Zombie?’

They nodded.

Tommy clicked his tongue again, closing the notebook with the pen inside. The bird cooed depressingly, their folded wings dropping silently.

Tommy’s brows furrowed at the display, he gave a small sigh. He went to his inventory finding leftover sunflower seeds just left in stock there. He took a small pile, placing it in front of the sad bird.

The fledgling noticed the small stack, their mood instantly shifted in temptation but at the same time happiness. The crow sprung joyfully relishing the taste of the Sunflower seeds.

Tommy’s cheek rested against his knuckle, elbows leaning onto the tabletop watching the bird feast on.
A reminder settled in, he is really lucky for having sunflowers in his garden for stock and beauty. He's been teaching himself how to use plants to his advantage.

Like making tea and medicine, or crafting ornaments such as flower necklaces and bracelets, crafting became one of his coping mechanisms when times got hard for him. He loves the way his fingers interwoven with the stems and petals.
He also loves making edible food out of it, liking the taste he made with his two hands, smelling the fresh perfume of newly made tea never tires him out but only to energize the teen for the day.

“Caw”

He snapped out of the stupor and back at the black creature, gaze still unfocused slightly. They squinted their beady eyes at Tommy examining the boy thoroughly, yet Tommy noticed that they were focused on the Thin horizontal line on his throat.


A healed scar.

Usually, Tommy would cover it up when someone stares at it for too long, The uncomfortable notion choking him to sorrow and anger due to the pitiful gaze that befalls the broken teen. He really loathes it if someone even tries to touch it, but nobody does.

And nobody did, he doesn't know if he should be happy about that even if he despised the touch.


And even now he still bears those thoughts.

He missed human interaction occasionally, and he will confess that the silence can be too loud for him at times. He hums to keep the silence at bay, making small noises if he can to keep away the quiet even for a bit until he is satisfied to be in the noiseless environment again.

He doesn't have a jukebox, not knowing why he didn’t carry it with him, guess he forgot about it when things become too audibly loud for him to think straight.


Tommy whistled at the crow who shook their head when they finally came back to their senses. They cooed again but gently this time, they bopped their head down slightly at the now gone seeds.

And before Tommy can even think, the bird launches at the boy’s shoulder, taking their rightful place again. Tommy let out a surprised squeak, almost succumbing to his small heart attack.


“Caw!”


They chirped pompously, even simpering at how shocked the boy is from a few seconds ago. He grimaced with an aggravated glare at the crow, but the creature isn’t to phase by it and instead was more amused.


Tommy huffed with a soundless grumble.


‘You are so goddamn annoying.’

He wrote it in his notebook, they only tittered further at the teen's pain. Tommy tiff grumpily, putting away his only communication to call the bird insults with. He stood up, gripping the watering can from the floor beneath his table.

They walked around the area, providing even the farthest part of the garden some watering, the bird seems content and surprisingly quiet for the duration of the time.

It was actually a nice morning for the both of them, the bird at times cawed threateningly at mobs that were either a threat to them or just a normal passive animal crossing their small land.

The minor had to click from the back of his throat at the feathered creature to calm down, it didn't work at first but slowly they finally got the note, yet they still do it just to get under his skin.

Tommy tends to check on the bird’s broken wing not wanting to see any further damage for the creature, he has to change the bandage at times for cleaner ones cause who knew the bird wings can bleed a lot?


It really is a good thing that Tommy has healing potions in stock or the crow would 100% die of blood loss.

He kind of remembers one memory where Philza saved both him and his brothers from being shot up by some stupid ass skeletons, but the older man’s void-like wings paid the price a little by being pierced with some lousy made darts.


And that's the same time where he was taught how to heal scarred wings that can become permanently flightless if not taken into care and consideration.

At times like this, Tommy doesn’t open his arms to the silence but instead, he hates it, he loathes it. Trying to find sense in those around him but it was too quiet, and unbearably so when all he can hear is his shuddered breathing in the middle of the freezing night.

The cold air that invaded like imposters inside his room bit his pale skin that shivered in both panic and coldness.

His breathing rapidly.

In and out

In and out

In and out

He repeated the cycle, over and over again. He sat against the wooden wall to ground himself from the enclosure that was gaining on the teen on all sides, knees buckling to his chest with his arms wrapping himself away from the world at least for a moment. For a second to just think .

These kinds of nights never felt good, and he should know that. The panic attacks that struck him are unbearably painful, heaving each air sucking up a smidge of serenity.

He hates that he dwells further into his memories, his traumas. Yes, he did let himself remember the past, even the bad ones but he has a limit on how deep he gets with it.


So when days like this came in, that downtrodden him to remember that he isn’t in L’Manberg anymore or to the arms of his best friend, it pained  him. He still isn’t used to it, to remember all horrible and somewhat repressed memories to crash down on him.


His sniffles filled the stale room, teeth biting harshly on the bottom of his lip that almost drew blood, the boy sucking for air like a drowning animal.


He doesn’t even know if this is the process of healing, he still doesn’t know how to heal in some way but he's trying so hard to figure it out, to figure how to get by it with no less than a scar in his mentality but that's just wishful thinking on his part.


His heart thudded against his ears, feet, and hands trembling at the weightful turmoil as his nails dug into his legs, forehead laying against his knees.


Vision becoming, blurry with or without tears to blind him. It felt like he was having a heart attack, he felt like he was dying.

He breaths


In and out

In and out

In and out

“That's it, you're gettin’ a hang of it.” the hybrid spoke, monotone but soft. Like warm hot chocolate in the middle of the tundra diamond sky.

His throat squeezed dry like sandpaper, his stomach churning in the process like a blender when his glazed eyesight looked up to the man he sought refuge from the demons that almost took away his soul.

In and out

In and out

In and out

“Close your eyes Tommy, and breathe in ease…focus, okay?”

He nodded weakly, holding onto the flat tone voice like a lifeline to bury himself with. It's the only thing he can hear, the only thing he can recognize.


The only thing he wants to remember at the moment.


“Okay...now open your eyes and try to recognize what I’m holding, can you do that for me?”


Tommy opened his eyes, trying his hardest to recognize what’s in front of him.


A strewn out blanket on the floor next to him, and the bedside right in front of him, he memorized the colors

The blanket is a pale blue sky.

The Bed mattress is white like clouds, fluffy and soft without anything to disrupt its shape.


“Repeat after me, okay?” His expression is so soft, yet the same-faced warrior that killed hundreds after millions.

And also his brother, who doesn’t know how to converse emotionally.

“1,  2,  3,  4,”

“4,  3,  2,  1...”

“ Caw... ”


The boy yelped at the sudden noise, eyes wide trying to detect where it is frantically but finally dropping at the crow that is right in front of him. Their head tilted, scanning the child in front of them.


Tommy would’ve snapped at them if he had a voice, he glared at the creature in front of him to communicate not to bother him right now.


He buried himself in his knees again, withering away from the bird’s gaze like a flower. Holy shit- don't tell him he's ashamed of looking like this in front of the crow? Prime, how pathetic is that to feel small in front of a creature smaller in size?

He’s dumb to forget that the bird is in his room, sleeping in a box full of cushions right beneath his bedside. He's getting stupidly forgetful now.


He felt a rising panic coming again. His effort of calming down became worthless in the end, this is just a waste of shitty time. Prime, why can’t he just be normal? Why can’t the memories disappear? Why can’t he finally rest-


A soft purr came next to him, he felt a soft touch in his hip making the disheveled blond flinch.
He finally came out of his shell, staring at the bird who was rubbing their beak and head on his side as they gently crooned in comfort.


And it worked, it somewhat did. The teen gawked silently, tears still slipping down on his chin one by one with a sniffle.


The low sound touched his panic-inducing state, turning his attention on the sound, clawing his ears away from his still rapid heartbeat, and finally moving away from the breathless water he is drowning underneath it.


His shaky hand moved down to the creature who nestled warmly onto his side, his palm carefully gliding along the black glossy feathers on their back. Experiencing the sense of touching something so familiar than his own aching legs that were still pressed against his chest.

He remembers preening his dad’s wings, taking away the broken and the disheveled ones, and leaving the unbroken ones that are stable to still fly in the sky. 

He often asks Phil if he can have wings, to fly in the crystal clear heavens with him when he was still a starry-eyed child.


Phil will always fondly laugh at the notion with a tinge of warmth in those blue irises that are full of secrets and adventure, the old man will often answer that maybe it will happen, maybe Tommy will manifest wings of his own, giving the child hope from those words.

Fueling the dream that Tommy held to fly into the clouds.

Tommy hummed a lowly tone, focusing on the creature who still purred. He sang softly, scratchy but subdue in a faint of the night dark sky outside his safe place.

The bird is still an annoying prick at times but he's thankful that they gave company to the young boy.


It felt at least different this time for once.


Often, he fought it alone by himself, handling the wave of sleepless nights when painful reminders crashed onto him. He wants to go outside in the cold blistering world, to sit down on the table and look at the plants and to the starry skies but he pulled himself back remembering harmful monsters that roam. He should really mob-proof his house.


Tommy leaned the back of his head on the wooden wall.

Only focusing on him and the crow who made him realize maybe having a companion won’t be bad, even if it’s just for a while.

Chapter Text

‘Back off.’

“ Caw.”

‘I ain’t giving shit to you feather boy.’

“ Caw.”

‘You make my life miserable, you know that right?’

“ Cawww.”

The crow snickered, depths of amusement sparkled between those bastard eyes of theirs. The blond child only glared heatedly in return, scribbling mercilessly onto the pages with no care of correcting his misspelled words. Besides, he can’t spell efficiently due to not having proper education and only being taught by the people around him.

‘U are an arsehole who is addickted to seeds, so no, I wont give anymore shitty cocaine seeds for you.’

They narrowed their gaze at the boy as if offended by the fact that this child wants them to have a withdrawal from the sunflower seed addiction, how dare this gremlin control the creature who strives for freedom and destiny.

They just want to get high on seeds.

Tommy moved his arms to his chest forming an X as he shook his head sternly to take back control this few weeks.

‘U r the reason why this relationship is not working out smh’

They squeak in offense to those accusations written down, mocking the bird in its core. They chirp indignantly, head held high acting as if they are immuned from the minor’s words. They turn away from Tommy, giving the silent treatment that made the pale boy huff in amusement.

‘U hurt?’

Tommy whistled to get the bird’s attention to the note, but they didn’t budge, really adamant not to talk at the snickering boy.

‘Cant believe Im given ‘the silent treatment’ from a birb.’

Still, the bird didn’t turn to his direction, their small head held high in pride. Until all that pride vanished when they heard rattling behind them. They instantly moved, breaking the silence they had already forgotten due to their addictio- fondness for the tasteful seeds.

Tommy held a small violet pouch in his palm with seeds inside, knowing how the bird likes them. 

‘Im breaking so many ground rules rn, youre such a dirty crime bird.’

The bird squawks in anticipation when a pale hand slithers inside the pouch, their tail shaking with so much dopamine it can challenge the existence of prime itself.

But the feathered tail stops shaking in glee when they are finally given…

One seed.

The bird stared beneath the table they were standing on, witnessing the saddest image that can give them long-lasting trauma. And to the bastard child with a shit-eating grin.

‘What? atleast i give you some.’

The crow is above from hurting children, but Tommy is no child. But a gremlin of deception. They will drag this blond to hell themselves.

They jump on Tommy, not caring about their wings that are healing fast.

War is war. And weakness shall be left behind.

Tommy let out a silent screech of terror from his chair, but Tommy laughed quietly in the process, almost choking from the air he is using as octaves.

Tommy caught the bottom of the bird’s body not wanting them to fall and break their goddamn wing again. Tommy still wheezes, extending his arms away from himself not wanting to be stabbed by the bird's beak.

“ Caww! ”

This is their sonorous war cry.

“ CAW! ”

Ferocious.

The blackbird finally gave up, they lowered their head in disappointed silence. Tommy put back the bird onto the table, still controlling his laughter at the bottom of his throat.

And when the bird is finally on the table, free from the restraint of their oppressor. It is a trap for the hate crime the gremlin has committed.
The bird charged again to the battlefield that is always meant to be and Tommy screamed in silence with no shield to save him this time.

It was a nice afternoon after the bloody war happened, both of them sat at the picnic table in silence. Tommy wipes away the scratches that didn’t really hurt, it’s like being scratched by a cat but the feline has clipped up nails and only left thin white lines that can be rinsed off with water with no scars left behind.

The bird was enjoying the stolen seeds Tommy gave for mercy. The teen grumbled, his mouth moving as if muttering in his own breath stringing curse words to another.

The wind is a whisper that sways the flowers like a gentle swing, the sunset color leaves above them rustle beneath the blue skies of the day. It’s peaceful as always and it never made the blond tired, and even more, so that he has a companion now, a creature of voidless death but a creature of chaotic goodness that has a sarcastic attitude that jumps off from his own.

The crow really reminds him of one of those black cat memes, just a void full of oddly mystics. Almost a creature of unknown origins that is full of mystery.

Tommy slumped relaxingly onto his chair just enjoying his time, enjoying the moment before he had to roam around the woods to find this so-called Netherportal that transported the bird here, maybe he can mob proof the Area in the process.

...

He wonders if Philza is here. How did this crow get here in the first place without the angel of death himself? The crows are literally always on Philza’s side and it’s oddly weird just seeing a lone bird without their flock.

If Philza is truly here, what would he do? Tommy unconsciously bit his bottom lip, gaze straining at the flowers that are pastel green. Would Tommy be angry that his safe place got found out? or would he not care?

Tommy is confused, like really confused about his jumbled-up emotions.

He inhaled to calm himself down and it seems like the crow noticed the stressed-out bubble that surrounded him. They cawed softly, almost worriedly in a way but Tommy waved it off with a reassuring smile to ease the bird’s worries.

He took out his notebook.

‘Wanna sit at the flower field with me?’

The crow tilted their head confused until the child pointed at the flurry of colorful plants around them, full to the corners of the very large fences that surrounded them. The bird nodded erratically, excitement shaking their raven tail.

Tommy leaned his arm in front of the creature who hopped on steadily for the ride. He stood up, walking along with those flowers that are a knee-length of Tommy’s height. Petals brushing against his legs till Tommy was in the middle of the vast field.

He sat down, letting the bird jump onto his knee with a cheerful chirp melding on their beak. They both enjoyed the rapture company they had from one another. Silence can still be their conversation and the natural sounds around them can be their song.

Tommy moved a bit, startling the crow slightly as their curious gaze trained against the blond’s hand that pulled out a couple of flowers around them. Tommy hummed, his fingers interlacing the stems and head of a gladiolus, touching the pink petals with a soft hum.

He started making a small flower crown, only using three different varieties of colors.

He used to love making this, and even now he still enjoys doing it. 

How he loves seeing the people around him get giddy at the simple gifts he gave to them that held so much meaning for the blond.

How he rejoices when Techno complimented him on his craftsmanship.

How prideful he is when he sees Philza wear the gifts he made.

And how he felt loved when Wilbur hugs him, muttering a sweet small thank you under his breath.

It felt euphoric that even the smallest things he made gave brightness around the world he lives in. Warm light embracing his child-like wonder to create, to learn, to give.

Ironic since he acts like a raccoon back at L’Manberg that steals things that aren't his, to begin with.

He wonders why he stopped creating, why he stopped giving.

He just guesses that wars and betrayals, brings out the worst of people, and he is sadly one of them.
He stared at his unfinished creation…

“Stop running you little shit!”

"Fuck you bitch! your twig legs can’t catch the almighty TommyInnit!”

"Fuckin- PHILLL!!”

Philza hummed thoughtfully, brushing Techno’s long pink hair as they sat down on the table right in front of their outside house in the middle of a barren land, yet full of trees and flowers around them, even the view of shadowy mountains in the faraway skyline of there home.

“Can’t help ya mate, my hands are tied.” The elderly grinned, putting his hands up slightly showing pink soft strands around his fingers.

“That’s a shit excus-”

“Trying to get dadza’s help wilbur? Pathetic.” Wilbur turned back at the gremlin with murder in his eyes and Tommy knew he has to skiddadle if he wants to live.

“You are in thin fucking ice, you petulant child.” He seethed, continuing to hunt down the energetic child who screamed in glee.

“Just like your legs, more thinner than dad’s old frail ones!”

“The fuck? My legs are not that frail.” Philza laughed, braiding the final strands of the hybrid's hair who was enjoying the chaos that was unfolding in front of his soft red eyes in amusement of his two brothers.

“That's what old people saysSS-” Tommy yelped, feeling the back of his collar being gripped tightly and pulled upward in the sky, his feet not touching the green ground anymore.

“You're in on it now child.” The beanie wearing man grinded on his teeth. Tommy gulped while he hurriedly put his palm together in silent prayer.

“P-please Wilbur, you wouldn’t hurt a poor boy, a poor child will you?”

Wilbur stared at him, his circular glasses displaying his murderous intent.

Tommy sweats more with a nervous chuckle for any mercy he wishes to get.

“Okay, that's enough you two.” They both turn to their father, each having varying degrees of emotions on their faces. Wilbur is aghast by the halt and Tommy with a shit-eating grin knowing Wilbur is a pansy when it comes to their father’s orders “Wha- but dad! He just broke my goddamn guitar pick!” Tommy put his hands up in defense “Not gonna lie, I never knew those things can be flimsy and weak as fuck.” He shrugged, ignoring how red-faced his brother was.

“Shut the fu-” “Wil.” A soft warning made Wilbur frown deeply in a scowl. He lets go of Tommy, tying his arms together like a child in a silent tantrum.

“You know that pick is Important to me, right?” The brunette whispered. Phil nodded in understanding to his oldest “I know.” Tommy stared at his two family members in front of him. His grin slowly diminished when he saw how angry yet hurt Wilbur looked. It’s more genuine than he anticipated.

Before Tommy can even say anything. Wilbur went back to their house, passing by without a glance at any of his family. Tommy only stared at the retreating figure while he cannot help but feel a slight spike in his stomach.

He heard his father sigh, the blond elder turned to Tommy with clear worry lacing his eyes, those that saw eons before him “You should go apologize to him, Tommy.” Tommy puffed up his chest pridefully while looking away.

“Why should I?” Tommy didn’t do anything wrong. He just wanted to play with Wil’s guitar, how would he know thin plastic can easily break? “Because Tommy…”  Phil continued “Wil got that pick from an important friend of his. And even if it's just a plastic pick, he still owns and likes it.” Tommy felt a hand ruffle against his blond locks, he looked up at Phil with confusion.

  “Just think about it, mate.” The elder finally said as he turned back to their house to counsel Wil.

Tommy frowned, fixing his hair a bit before repeating the words his father tossed him.

Tommy is a child full of pride, saying sorry isn’t part of his vocabulary at all. All he does is not bring it up and hope that his family will forget about it, but seeing Wil’s despair when he broke something that is actually precious to him made the blond think twice.

   He heard rustling next to him “Well, that's something.” The monotone voice chimed, Tommy scowled at his sibling, tying his arms together with a heated stare at the house they lived in “Canned it, Techno.” he muttered.

  “But for real, you should apologize to Wilbur. Never seen him this upset before.” Tommy felt more horrible, and he hates it “You don’t have to repeat it dickhead, I already know that.” The hybrid raised a brow at the youngest next to him.

“Well. Do you?”

He was about to spit on Techno with more words that he can think of, but all died off in the tip of his tongue when his mind came to place again. He sputtered silently with a hushed recurrent of their father’s words.

Tommy only stared at the ground below them, his thoughts puzzling for any solution to do something.

He spoke, more unsure this time.

“Do...do you think I really fucked up?” Techno hummed at his question “What do you feel If I break or take something important to you?” Tommy winced a little, his hands gripping his other arm at his side.

“Angry?”

“Betrayed.”

Tommy flinched on the unexpected answer “Why would he feel betrayed anyways? Yeah, I broke his pick- but I didn’t…” the youngest gaze moved a little from the ground and to their home as if waiting for an answer he still can’t give. Guilt swallowed him.

“Because you're our brother Tommy. He trusts you.”

Tommy all the more felt dreadful, but a small warm feeling broke into his chest. A fire flickering in the cold wind.

“...What do you think I should do?” He finally turned to Techno, his expression broken in guilt and hesitancy. Techno, with his mask on shrugged again. “Should I say sorry or something?” Techno looked down at him, the braid on his shoulder moved slightly with him.

“Words are just words, why not give something in return?” The child pursed his lips together “Like, a present?” “Something like that.” Tommy moved his mouth to refute his brother’s idea but he stopped.

He thinks more deeply “You take something, you give something.” Techno’s voice sounded farther away “I’ll go see what Phil and Wilbur is doing, don’t stay out too late.” He waved as if already knowing what Tommy is going to do.

Tommy stood alone, but not without thinking of a plan to earn Wilburs forgiveness. A determined glint flickered in his sky blue irises. He seeks out, trying to find any flowers he can get his hands on and try to think more of Techno’s and Dad’s words to understand better.



Stars align the vast sky, the wilderness quiet in the midst of these hours as a child, full of nervousness, came home. He opened the door of their house, not expecting to be this late till the sky is nothing more but a dark blue full of glowing fireflies in its ceiling.
He tiptoed on the wooden floor to the kitchen, hunger rising in his stomach due to not eating dinner that he probably missed.

He opened the lower cabinet, grabbing a cookie jar to snack on but it was foiled when a stern ‘ahem’ caught the child red-handed.

Tommy almost dropped the jar in shock but thankfully he held it more properly on his chest. His head snapped behind him like a raccoon in high alarm and was met by brown dark eyes.

“You’re late,” Wilbur uttered, narrowing his gaze at the boy in front of him and was leaning at the door frame. Tommy cracked an anxious smile, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

“HEeeyyy...wil.” His voice cracked on his amazing greeting. Wilbur raised a brow at his direction, leaning against the doorframe with a sharp watch at the younger boy. Tommy gulped.

“Where have you been?” It’s a stern question with no room for any arguments. Tommy’s grip on the jar tightened the same to his thin-lined lips, he looked at the ground in contemplation if he should give it now or tomorrow.

Because in all honesty, he is incredibly unsure if Wilbur would even like it. It’s such a simple thing to make but for Tommy it held meaning, it held all of his sorrys and sincere apologies.
Wilbur stared at him, worried boiling the tall man seeing his brother this quietly apprehensive to answer.

“Well?” He spoke more softly, gently coaxing Tommy to speak.

Tommy put down the jar on the floor, biting the bottom of his lips standing up. Wilbur raised a brow confusingly when his younger sibling shuffled forward in front of him, still looking at the ground as if refusing to meet his brown ones.

Before Wil could even speak. Something got shoved almost onto his face. He stood back abruptly in a startle what he thought Tommy was about to throw at him.

But nothing came of it.

Wilbur saw what the boy was holding clearly.

A flower crown full of yellow blossoms of different kinds, colors from mornings and sunrises. Bundle up neatly in a circular hoop of their own green vines.

“Wha-” “It’s a flower crown,” Tommy interjected tightly, still staring at the ground hard refusing to look up to his brother. “I uh…” the younger one cleared his throat “I made this umm...to give you something.” He didn’t even realize his hands are slightly trembling in both embarrassment and
Timidness that doesn’t suit the loud obnoxious child at all. “I broke your pick, right? So I just- I think that maybe I should be the bigger man here and umm…” His sweating like a fucking ice cream.

“To apologize.” He whispered in finalty.

The silence between them made the blond struggle more, paranoia filling his chest like a goddamn buzzing beehive, sweat piling up more and more. Tommy bit his tongue hard trying to think. To just say something to make the silence disappear.

Until he felt the flower crown on his hands being removed.

“You made this?” The brunette questioned. warm. Tommy’s chest full of buzzing anxiety slightly disappeared.

Tommy let his arms fall to his side, he gruffly murmured “Obviously, no one can make better flower crowns than me.” Silence came again and Tommy forced himself to look up at this sibling in front of him. Ready for any expression his brother would give him.

Wilbur stood there with the flower crown in hand. His other hand brushing against the yellow petals delicately. He stared like a man who had melted in the warm loving heat of the sun. Clutching it like it’s the world on his palm.

  Tommy’s eyes widened, not helping himself but sputtering some words that sounded like a hopeful whisper. “Do you like it?” Wilbur turns to him, chocolate warm eyes staring in a new form of delicateness that Tommy can’t describe. But something in his chest lodges. Relief? Joy? Who knows, but it’s pleasant either way.

  Wilbur didn’t answer the question and instead turned to the cookie jar that was sitting across the floor. A grin spread across his face, one that associates in the dirty crime boi community.

“Wanna empty some jars?” And that made Tommy’s gremlin energy shake in full capacity. A wicked grin spread in his face, both of them ready to be yelled at by Phil in the morning.

“Hell yeah.”

He ripped his gaze from his creation and back to his feathered companion. A mellow smile came to place.
While the bird isn’t looking he slipped it on their head making them withdraw a bit when something touched on top of them.

The crow looked up at Tommy, finally noticing the crown full of flowers that were placed onto them. Tommy took out his notebook scribbling a bunch of words.

‘Do you like it?’

Before Tommy can even show his question to his companion. The bird cawed cheerfully, bopping their head happily by the present, they turned to Tommy puffing up their chest in a prideful manner as if the bird is showing off their looks.

Tommy snorted, finally showing the sentence he was supposed to earlier. They nodded frantically, their head siding left and right letting the boy show their good looks in delight by the new and improved style.

 The spark came to his chest again, seeing the familiar glow in the bird's eyes. It's bright, it's happy. and it’s because of Tommy.

 ‘Wanna make more?’

“ Caw! ”

Guess finding the nether portal can wait.

Chapter Text

In the beauty of all things considered, he used to see the world in rose-tinted glasses when he was small. A paradise, a place of safety. Always marching along with his family for guidance, for the smidge of love and joy he can hold close to his chest.

He always loved the outdoors, the scenery of green and ocean blue. Where the mountains are bigger than life itself skyscrapers of nature but he never got the chance to climb them, to see it at the highest top. Where hills are smaller where he can step in the edge but it was never enough for his small self.

He never saw the world as cruel, his innocence shining brightly from the reality of life. Phil will always hold them closely, hiding them away from anything that can break their innocence from the outside they once called paradise.

And life goes on, and innocence changes to hope, to downright insensitive. If you act like a child, you are stupid. If you act all happy in your little bubble, you are selfish.

And Tommy learns that the hard way, and even now he somewhat holds that perspective in his mind. But despite that,


He was once a child and still a child.

And he found that innocence he once buried in the ground flourished to a small sapling when living alone with his temporary companion in the middle of the woods.

The responsibilities he now holds are not those of wars, sides and high expectations, but taking care of his plants, making lunch for him and his companion, and just resting. Giving him the silence and noise from this side of the world he never got to see from all those years of carnage.

And once more again, he steps up the hill with his bird companion on his shoulder. The height is so low yet so high, enough to see the unclouded view of the sky so clearly. The mountains in the distance, silhouettes that range from giants to dwarfs in comparison that Tommy felt like he could climb it easily as he did once.

The bird cawed at his side, he turned to them with a small nod already knowing they should rest here for the meantime. It’s been a long day for them, trying to find the nether portal is harder than he had expected it to be.

He sat down, content to embellish the wind that softly patted his hair and skin. They jump on Tommy’s knee letting their unbroken wing open for it to feel the air on their black feathers that ruffle in the process.
They enjoyed the silence for a moment until Tommy remembered a certain book in his inventory.

He bought out a book that can help him stop writing every goddamn word when he needs to communicate, his fingers ached at just the thought of him writing every. Single. Time.
The bird seemed to notice what he was holding, tilting their head in shining curiosity.

The book has a violet leather cover, the edges looking a bit burnt but what made it more understandable why Tommy has it with him is the Title.

‘Sign language’
(English version)

Embedded in a blackened ink sign. Tommy smiled like a madman knowing what words he wanted to learn first and his companion already knew in dreadful disappointment. There was this saying that Tommy heard and highly agreed on ‘ Swearing in a foreign language is the first step to fluency ’ sure, he knows alphabets come first but the curse words are the best part of having a fulfilling life and Tommy’s life right now is devoid of another word for cat.

He found this book in one of the places that are burned down in L’manberg, in an abandoned library full of old dusted books nobody is willing to take, and it seems like god has pitied him due to the teen finding this book on one of the chests behind the burned counters.

The bird cooed wanting to see what Tommy was reading, so he let his partner sit in the middle of his lap, his arms on their sides and a book in front of their small bird structure. He flipped the pages with eyes full of sparkling excitement.

But each page flipped he was feeling a sense of void in him, another page flipped, a pale notion was pouring onto him next, until he was at the last page. 

The bird looked up at him confused, till they saw the considerable bewilderment and betrayal in the blond's eyes, looking like a man who had seen all the bullshittery in his life but this, This is a new bullshit level he hopes not to go upon. And yet here he is.

Tommy is a simple man, with simple words with a side of curses. All he needs in his life is that and only that, and yet the world no- the universe took that away from him, his is truly broken beyond repair now.
He flipped the book behind, instantly catching what made him more depressed in life.

‘Family-friendly version’

Just there, on the bottom side behind the book, it mocked him, poking him like devils with pitchforks. There is no family or friends, but only chaos, and Tommy will do it as such.

All he can sign is loser, butt, fart and other abhorrent childish shit you see in storybooks for children. He may be a kid but he is an evolutionary one with big brainpower, and all of this is a disgrace to humanity, a crime towards him. Whoever made this book he will find them, ending this tyranny that has provoked the blond.

“Caw!”

He snapped himself out of his plans of murder to his partner who was poking the book with their beak wanting them to read more. Tommy huffed, this book is still useful though, but 90% of it is now a husk of expectation he once resided on.

‘Hello….goodbye….good morning....godnigh-’


“Caw!”

Okay, wrong sign. Tommy sat across from his companion who had the book away from the blond's peering eyes, trying to remember the signs he had to drill into his mind while he was beginning to lose any sanity he had left.

‘Hello...goodbye...goodmorning...goodnight…’ okay, he is starting to get it.

‘Hume-’

“CAW!”

Tommy is ready to commit war crimes against humanity.

Tommy doesn’t know how much he repeated what he had wronged, it’s been like...10 mins? 10 mins of complete and utter torture. He thought he’ll be a master of this, oh- how stupidly wrong he is.

He signed again, fuming a bit inside.

‘Hello...goodbye...goodmorning...goodnut-’


“CAW!”


He threw his hands up in total rage, like a baby having a temper tantrum. This is it, this is where his villain arc will start and nobody, NOBODY would stop him and if they do, he will give them flowers that symbolize hatred out of spite.

He flopped his back on the ground with a full deep frown attached on his face. He is ready to hunt down who made this book, they will have to find mercy in the hands of the devil, and that devil is him.

The bird huffed as they crawled on top of Tommy, giving a caw of disappointment. Tommy mouthed ‘Shut up you prick.’ his companion only titters while sitting down on the kid's chest relaxingly.
Tommy didn’t even move not wanting to admit that laying down is actually really comfortable, he moved his head to the side seeing the horizon again. The fuming rage induces to a calm amber.

Is he giving up? No. He ain’t giving up shit, giving up is for pussies and he ain’t no pussy. The bird cooed at him, their head bobbing sidley as if trying to communicate they should continue their search for the portal.

He huffed lazily but agreed nonetheless, he sat up holding the bird gently and letting them sit on his shoulder again. He grabs the book that gave him pain, putting it on his inventory as he stood up.
He looks one last time at the view in front of him, finally continuing his hunt for the netherportal.

His palm brushed against the brown bark, his gaze analyzing every background that might emit a purple glow while walking forward to anywhere and beyond, he turned to his companion who was thinking as well, trying to remember how they got here in the first place.

They passed by trees and anything that blocked their path in hope for anything that looks suspicious on their radar.

“Caw…”

They huffed a bit, their unbroken wing sluggishly rubbing their face gloomily. Tommy frowned slightly thinking of anything to give the bird some small hope. His hand moved slightly with hesitation finally rubbing his fingers gently against the bird's head.

The bird froze in surprise but they instantly melted on the blonds' grasps. They rumble a purr, allowing the warm palm to pat them. Tommy chuckled at the bird’s soft act looking back at the surroundings around them.

Green, yellow, red, brown anything that made autumn look warm bordered them, Tommy spotted a tree that is taller than any hill they stepped on earlier, he whistled for the bird’s attention to the sapling they are now standing in front of.

They stared up at the huge tree in awe before Tommy grabbed his notebook and pen.


‘Wanna climb it?’

They nodded their head, determined as hell but a little apprehensive due to sitting on Tommy’s shoulder he needs to use when climbing, but as if Tommy read his partner’s mind he pointed to the top of his head.

‘Seat on top of me, don’t get too egotistical kay?’

The bird was lifted to Tommy’s head as they puffed their chest pridefully. They nestled down on the blond’s golden locks cawing like they are the kings/queens of the world. Tommy only rolled his eyes at their display, he readied himself stretching his body a little so it won’t ache because of climbing.

He grabbed the vines tightly and starting to go up, grabbing the nearest branch he could hop on steadily.

“Tommy, What are you doin?”

His brother called out from underneath him, a tone of being done with all of this. Tommy sat on the highest branch he could reach. He looked down at Techno with an arrogant smile, legs dangling on the edge.

“Who's the tallest one now, pig boy?” Tommy cackled, finally being the tallest of the family, Techno clicked his tongue “Halt your insecurities and come down here before you get hurt.” huffing at the child.

Tommy’s face contorted to confusion to a blown-up angered expression full of hidden embarrassment “Who are you calling insecure!? You dickhead- you got nothing on me!” “Of course I don’t, because I’m not insecure, unlike a certain shorty.” Tommy was a fuming grenade at this point, but of course, being the middle child of the family, Techno honestly didn't care.

Tommy didn’t come down, his arms crossed stubbornly at the command. The hybrid only sighs knowing he can’t leave his little brother here alone as much as he wanted to, another person turned to a lost orphan in the bucket lists was once again isn’t crossed.

He sat beneath the bottom of the tree grabbing what appears to be a book from his inventory, the small sibling narrowed his gaze at the book. The silence covered both of them and only page flips are only heard subtly.

Tommy leaned his back against the hardwood, letting his other leg swing freely in both contempt and irritation. The two of them didn’t utter a word nor a sound. The smallest chewed his lip a little, stubbornly fighting his boredom due to a lack of noise to fill the air and the second oldest was taking his time with his book, satisfied with nothing to be annoyed by his reading time.

But nothing lasts forever when it comes to the hybrid’s satisfaction.


“You always read, isn’t it getting boring by now?”


Tommy peered down at his companion who raised his head and one single brow to his annoying sibling “No, and it never will.” He stated simply, turning back at the pages he wanted to resume on “But- it doesn’t have pictures! Only a block of texts and shit.” The blond complained with a whine escaping his lips. Techno rolled his eyes once again at his petulance “That's why we have minds Tommy, to imagine what we have read rather than rely on a single static picture.” The hybrid explained nonchalantly as if talking to a toddler even though he kinda is.

Tommy frowned yet he stared at the small obscure texts on the book beneath him, curiosity bubbled on his younger mind.

“All the books you have are just full of tragedies, why's that?” He muttered questionably, tilting his head on the eldest weird interests.

Techno perked up at the question not expecting that from the blond, but he calmly explained while flipping to the next page.


“Because it’s more interestin’.”


“Why?”


The pinkette can’t help but chuckle lowly at the child’s innocence who in return pouted angrily at him. “Because it has more depth to it, more...connected to reality in a way,” Techno muttered with a hum.

“So...what you are saying is that...reality is full of tragedies?” Techno nodded still glued to the book, but his attention was fully on the blue-eyed kid. The teen was in deep thought for a second before uttering more sentences “What's wrong with happy endings?” He looks at Techno, wanting to be answered.

The hybrid stared at the page statically for a moment, his mind processing the question. He finally moved a bit but still not looking at Tommy, leaning against the tree like a comfortable chair.
“There's nothin' wrong with it.” He spoke more softly with a shrug, “But personally, I don’t think happy endings exist.” 

Tommy paused at the statement, he stuttered “I-if it doesn’t exist, why should tragedies then?” His fingers fiddled onto each other, still puzzling the ideas that were given to the child. His brother flipped another page.

“I don’t believe tragic endings exist either.”


His eyebrows furrowed more confusingly at Techno’s words “Than...what exists?” he shrugged as a reply but he still answered.

“Death."

“Oh…”

He winced at the answer, not expecting that at all yet he was still given more questions than answers “I...uh still don’t get it big man.” grinning faintly but it was clear Tommy is feeling dumb even though Big T is the smartest and only man.

Techno finally turned to him, tilting his head upward to see the conflicted blond.

“You’ll understand it when you get older.”


Tommy stared at him like he hadn’t just heard that from his sibling, till his muddled mind cleaned it’s bullshit, he was truly disappointed for not getting a more clearer answer.

“You're acting like dad, a cryptic asshole.” Pointing that out with a grumble, Techno only went back to his book with a hum as his reply. The youngest still glared at the figure who didn't pay any mind to him.

Silence envelops the two of them again with nothing to talk about, Tommy was still quizzically in thought trying to find the answer that would make sense in their conversation, but none came.

A sigh came out, frustrated and once more bored.

“What are you reading anyway?”


“The mythology of Zeus.”


“That asshole?” The blond query with a distasteful groan “Yup” He popped off. Tommy was once again silent before breaking it in a few short seconds.


“Can...you read it to me?” Piping hopefully like a child for a bedtime story, Techno only cracked a faint smile “If you finally come down, I will.” Tommy only frowned, displeased by what his payment was “Oh fuck off.” he sneered willfully, but there is no heat behind his tone.

Techno still focused on the book, carefully reading the words in thought and keeping the small hushes of stillness close to him to focus. Something rustled above him, leaves and branches to be precise before a small thump of feet has fallen on the green grass.

Tommy stood properly with a prideful aura around him, obviously not wanting to look somewhat desperate for any companionship to lessen the quiet that bothers the kid.

He plopped down next to Techno, arms tied to his chest. “There. Happy?” Techno nodded, a smile visible in place.

“What part do you want me to read?” He asked as Tommy leaned closer to his shoulder, comfortably settling on his older brother like a warm pillow but Techno didn’t mind, Tommy is small so he is pretty much light.


“Where Ares beat the shit outta lightning man.”

Techno snorted, flipping the pages where that scene took place.

“Typical.”

His eyes were wide as saucers when he saw it, there in the distance was a faint purple glow just further away from them. Gripping the sturdy branch that was in front of his chest became tight, his feet standing carefully on another branch beneath them was freezing still.

The wind is blaring at the two on how high they are, higher than the hill they just stood on hours ago. The forest that was once a huge terrain is nothing more but a skewed view up here.


The sun was at full view just in the center of the land they stayed on with the blue sky basked in clouds, his breath silently hitched from a familiar feeling. Like a certain mountain he climbed with Tubbo just to meet the man of tragedies.


He shook away that feeling knowing there is no time for his memories to meddle on. Tommy isn’t afraid of heights but it was still terrifyingly pretty. His companion was cawing excitedly, chirping in happiness when they spotted the portal.


He cracked a smile in return, subdued and tiny, still staring at their destination. He traced where it was headed, not wanting to get lost when they finally knew it’s close to here.


Tommy’s hand felt numb, static in a way he didn’t understand. His breathing was faint, hitching in the middle of his throat, and yet he ignored it, pushing the rising vile he doesn’t want to discern right now.

The bird chirped, brushing the side on their head on Tommy’s golden hair that glistened in the sun soothingly. His eyes blue yet grey like storming clouds blinked from the impending rise he was noticing.

He looked away and started climbing down, he was not in a hurry but he wanted his time of descending to be slower.


A few minutes or even half an hour later he was finally at the bottom, hopping on the green soil with a crouch. He relaxed his muscles in a second before standing up and leaning tiredly on the huge evergreen tower they climbed down successfully.


He breaths in and out, air shivering in the corners of his mouth. He wiped the sweat off his forehead staring straight forward at their supposed mission, and once more. He exhaled out to ease what he was holding in and sharpening his priorities, cause god knows it’s not the time to have another emotional fest.


He straightened himself up sluggishly and started walking. The crow cawed cheerfully, chirping out sounds that Tommy guesses was a song while bopping in their own tune. Tommy let out a silent chuckle joining in the crow’s drowning excitement.

The hums he uttered were punching away the inevitable, he focused on the noises that got rid of something partially inside.

Even though he knows it will come in all force later.

The whispers of something enchanted were getting nearer…

Apprehension was a cold foreboding emotion in the forefront of his mind. Panic wranged on his chest full of fearful expectation.


His heart was beating so fastly, rapidly uneasily like he had runned from enemies and monsters of all kinds.


His hands shivered from the icy cold, like the night of exile with no warm blanket to cover him but only loneliness, full of dread at what's to come for the next day.


His lungs are filled with misty smoke, like bombs that emitted around his home from the people he once loved and cherished in his child-like hands.


And when he finally saw the portal, the violet hue felt like a violent punch on his dull gaze. He winced at the vibrant glow taking a step back from a portal that could lead him to his old home…


To his old life…


“Caw!”


The creature cawed, thrilled to find a way home, buzzing happiness was settling on their chest that was brimming with a hope to finally go back. But they stopped.


Their companion let out a shaky noise, incoherent of any words or even syllables. A ragged breath, a shivering notion, a panicking tremble.


They look back at Tommy confused at what they had heard, until they saw Tommy on a verge of a panic attack.


Tommy almost stumbles in a haze but he holds himself up in time for him to carefully hold the bird off his head and put them down on the ground so they won’t get hurt by anything brash Tommy expects to do.


He leaned shakily against the tree that he was next to, using it for a way not to fall and break down stressfully.

Why is he thinking about this now? Shit- if there's a portal then people can come here, especially Phil and Techno, especially dream.

And he doesn’t- he can’t...He slid his back down right against the wooden tree to a caged sit, sobering himself from the possibility of people dragging him back to the place that started all of this mental damage he has to hold.


And the worst part is, he knows he’ll stay back there again, continuing the cycle he wishes to break. It feels like...if he steps into that goddamn portal he’ll instantly head straight back to L’manburg, in hopes to see people and find evidence physically that he was missed, that he was worthy to be loved again.


The communicator, the messages were left untouched for a reason. To think for once in his goddamn life about himself, and not to be swayed by other people’s choices because he hates that he knows full well he is still an impressionable child, a kid that is still finding for anything to latch on to and never let go.


If he comes back, he’ll be easily swayed by hugs, touches, warmth, and hell- even words.


Dependent and independent was mashed onto Tommy like a sick mixture that he still doesn’t understand…


Dependent on love and any affection, drunk on validation and acceptance.


Independent on getting what he wants whether it’s tools, armors and to make conflicts, and endure punishments.


And more and more that he doesn’t know yet.


“Caw…”

They crooned worriedly. They carefully snuck next to Tommy snuggling at his side while emitting a purr for the sickened boy. Doing everything they can to make him feel like he isn’t alone.

He noticed but he didn’t comment on it, he sniffled as tears started to come down, raindrops that used to be cold on his cheek now felt warm.


Even now the process of healing was a puzzle piece to him, what is the right way to heal? Is he doing this wrong? Or is this just the process?


It’s tiring and painful but most things are too.


And he held that weight for so long in his past and he's still here...that must be something at least, right…?


His shivering stopped when he focused on the rumbling purr his partner gave him, eventually, he looked back at the portal that was a distance apart from them.


What would he do if someone came out of that portal? Will they drag him back? Berate him like a child for leaving? Or would they just...visit? Just be there and not try to persuade him?


Thoughts and thoughts and thoughts were piling up. He closed his eyes tightly, leaning his head against the bark.

He focused on his friend, basking a bit of warmth that made his chest ease in relief. His head cleansing the anxieties slowly when he finally inhaled the fresh minty air gripping him away from the edge of hysteria.

And when he finally felt his panic-induced state was cleared aside, he changed his sitting position tiredly, tying both of his legs together while startling his friend in the process but they calmed down eventually and jumped on his knee with a coo.

Tommy turned to them, teardrops still visible on his face but it wasn’t raging with turmoil anymore, his mouth pressed into a thin line that bordered between a frown or a smile.

Tommy gathered them in his arms gently, giving them a hug close to his chest. The bird’s beak pressed tenderly against the blond’s cheek with a rub of reassurance.

Their purring gave the teen a sense of safety and the warmth they gave was a sense of shelter.
They sat there for god knows how long, but it was enough time for Tommy to completely ease the turmoil he once held.

He finally stood up in a careful manner, still holding the creature close to his chest.

He wiped away the remaining tears with a sniffle as he turned back to the portal, only hesitance filled him…
He looked back down to the crow knowing this warmth needs to go now. Even if he doesn’t want to...

He whistles, tone still shaking, grabbing his friend’s attention. They look up at Tommy, still with concern in their beady eyes.

He pointed at the portal respecting the bird’s decision to go home, it seems like the bird understands what he's trying to communicate…

“caw…”

Crooning they shook their head, their beak pointing on the still bandaged wing. Tommy curses silently at himself, how could he forget that the bird is practically helpless from mobs- especially from the nether?

But either way, his companion snuggled on his chest with a still purr not stopping to comfort their fledgling. Tommy sighs, turning to the portal one last time, checking what location it’s in so they won’t forget it.

He signed hesitantly, trying to remember a simple word he had wronged earlier.

‘Home?’

He questioned the bird who nodded eagerly, wanting to go back now. He smiled warmly.

Yeah, they should go home…

Tommy yawned, rubbing his eyes when he finally woke up from his comfy bed, his body still lethargic by the tiredness. He stretched his arms up hearing a satisfying pop before putting his arms on the soft blanket his legs were covered in.

Blurry vision turned more clearer with each second till he could see properly again. He inhaled the scent, tinged of soft honey with lemon that lingered in their room.

Tommy checked on the box that was next to his bed, expecting to see his friend still sleeping but surprisingly, the bird wasn't there.

He scratched the back of his neck confused, they might be in the kitchen or in the living room. Tommy grabbed away the blanket as he settled both of his legs on the edge of the comfortable bed, he sat for a while getting rid of his drowsiness.

And when all the tiredness was drowned out with a bit of energy he stood up heading towards the door that was already creaking open. Maybe the bird did get out to the kitchen.
He closed his eyes when an incoming yawn came again, his hand pushed against the door frame, his other rubbing his still exhausted eyes when he was finally greeted by the kitchen.


It was quiet, too silent. Not chirping, no scratches of claws, no nothing...


When his vision slightly cracked open to check on the table, it instantly snapped open when he noticed the open window with the curtains blowing lightly against the breeze.

But what was more jarring to him was the laid-out bandages on the table. He cautiously went there, the kid’s gaze bouncing around the room trying to spot his friend.


Something thick and heavy compacted his throat when he took steps forward...as if he was walking on landmines.


Till he was in front of the brown coffee table.

The bandages looked like it was ripped off carelessly, he scanned it...and he froze when a sudden realization dawned on him.

These bandages...were from the crow. His chest tightened but there's something more on the table he hadn’t noticed down to now.

On the other side of the table, laid the flower crown he had made for them. Unbroken, untattered, and still complete.


His breath hitched painfully, wait...


Shakily, his hand moved to grab it, he sat down on a chair. His hand brushed against his blond hair and the other held the small flower crown.


His expression turned from confusion to heartbreak to complete and utter acceptance.


He chuckled, too tired and shakily than he wanted it to be.

Emotions festering so fast and so slow he can’t process it properly, he's having a headache again...

He closed his eyes once more, gripping the crown to his chest like it was going to disappear too…


What does he expect? Sooner or later they have to go…


Everyone has to... 

Chapter Text

Attachments. A word that represents everything wrong and right on this server, attached to people or objects whether it is healthy or not but it’s still the same thing, the same value that other people hold to one another to the point they gripped on their own attachments so they won’t lose them. Whether it’s fighting people, breaking bonds that were once strong, or starting a war just to keep what is precious to them.

And Tommy was the start of that stigma, the discs were his affinity, a devotion to protect and keep away from prying hands. He was so adamant that those vinyls were his only weakness to the point he deems it more important than his own friends, the people he cared about.

He still remembers the pure anguish and hurt in Tubbo’s eyes when he screamed at him that he is lesser than what he appears to be, and Tommy will forever store it in mind even if he wishes it to go away, he guesses it’s a reminder of his own selfishness.

Even if he was working to get rid of his obsession towards those discs, it was a hard feat to come by. He still felt it, that old frugal string was still attached on his thin scarred fingers, the almost broken tightrope that circulated around his neck and heart, and the cracked chains that still shackled on his ankle. 

Obsession is addictive, poisonous, and sweet in a cup of coffee brewed in one intoxicating liquid.

And now sitting on the picnic table, he was having one of those withdrawals again. He was recounting the objects and people he was attached to, whether they were toxic or not.

He knows already that Tubbo is his attachment, he was practically his best friend, his brother without blood relation like Wilbur, and yet back then he downplayed Tubbo’s actions whether it’s good or bad because of his damn prideful arrogance, leaving Tubbo hurt.

Yes, he's mad that Tubbo exiled him, he's mad that Tubbo instantly moved on from his death and married Ranboo without his knowledge but Tommy can’t bring himself to be a selfish prick like he usually does because Tubbo is not an object he was attached to, he was a person. Not a government, not a child soldier like he was. He is Tubbo I like da bee underscore. A person who was there for him in the beginning and hell, maybe in the end.

And he was starting to see his toxicity when he stood there, in a place that is full of obsidian walls on all sides, hot and damp with the near incoming tears as he saw Tubbo who was apathetic on the fact he was about to die for some plastic discs that Tommy is stupidly obsessed with, like the brunette was some kind of pawn, and maybe...That’s what Tubbo really feels when he was around Tommy.

And Ranboo? He doesn’t know. He was still confused when it comes to the ender-hybrid, but it was clear the tall teenager is growing on him like Tubbo, even though the jealous animosity he used to hold against him. But he was there when Tubbo wasn't, and he will be forevermore grateful.

And his family?

Fundy was his spark, his daring nephew who has the fiery spirit like his old man. He still remembers that joy, that special kind of wonder when he saw him for the first time, in the arms of his brother bundled up in warm caramel cloth. He looks so small, so adorable and he melted instantly when Wilbur let him hold his nephew close to his young heart, and on that day he swore a promise to protect the small fox.

Tommy’s forehead leaned against his tangled fingers that formed into a bridge, elbow leaned against the clothed table, eyes closed tight in utter grievances. He smiled, deplorable that he broke the promise due to his idiotic belief that traitors are not meant to be forgiven, how incredibly stupid he is.


Once more again, he thought deeply about the three most influential people in his life.


Philza minecraft, the one and only man. What was he supposed to say about the old man anymore? He knows Philza is not a bad parent by all means, but he was a neglectful one when Techno started to show signs of voices that whispered deathly chaos. He never spared time, not even a glance at the two who waited for their turn to be seen again.

But it never happened, the only thing that occurred was Philza and Technobalde leaving due to the voices becoming more violent. And the worst part is. Tommy can’t blame Technoblade, even if he was a child who was prone to being jealous he knows it’s not the hybrid's fault for this happening.

But by the primes He hoped they sent letters and visit at least once a week, just to be acknowledged that Wilbur and him are here, waiting for the old man to see them again like they used to. But that didn’t happen, and years went by like a flash of a polaroid, and that single teardrop of hope was wiped away from the handkerchief of being used to it.


And when he did visit, well...Tommy should’ve known better than having faith in a perfect reunion he used to wish for as a child.


And Technoblade. Good ol’ Technoblade. His sibling, his friend, and his enemy.
At the end of the day, there is no hatred held against the Hybrid, he is his brother, the person who reads him stories underneath the tree they always come across when the sun settles brightly against the world, the one who holds the most annoyance yet fondness over the blond kid. He was the protector of their family next to their dad, he may act nonchalantly, emotionless even but he cares more than what people think.

Tommy can never detest him, even when they fought many times. In the pit, the first bombing of L’manberg and doomsday, he held no hatred but strain. A strain aspiration, a fading optimism that maybe they’ll make amends. But Tommy should know now he can’t fix what's already broken, and that string of attachment Technoblade was once connected to him was snapped by the scissors of betrayal only leaving the kid to pick up what was left of their falling out.


Betrayal…


Tommy’s mouth turns into a bitter smile.

That word is an echo that grows louder, a memorial of what has broken their family apart, making mistrust fester into a wildfire of anger and resentment.

Maybe he did hurt Techno, make him feel like an object rather than a person who is his family…
Maybe all of this can be a result of his oblivious obsession with what he wants. But Techno isn’t innocent. And neither is he.

And Wilbur soot, a showman of huge theatrics with a fiery mouth full with words that enticed people, but a teenager having to raise a small brat of a child. He could’ve left, go on the biggest adventure he can ever witness and yet he stayed. Stayed for the small blond against all odds, and when they left to pursue something more bigger on what they hoped to be. A new beginning, a new story, a new symphony.


Trust has never been scarier.


Beneath his hands still graces the rough frigid walls of the ravine, tight spaces that held no air for the kid to breath properly, and his ears can faintly hear the anguish in his Brother’s voice, the insults that splattered like acid in Tommy’s skin left a dented scar and cold hands gripping his wrist to a violent purple hue.

But he still trusts him. Because Wilbur was there when no one was, not his dad, not his other brother, but him. Trust was something Tommy will always hold, loyalty is what he can offer and for gods he gave what he can give. Because Tommy believes that giving can mend his brother's anger on the world that forsaken them.

He believes that if he gives, gives, and gives, then maybe....even for a little bit, he’ll see the Wilbur who stayed with him in that house they once lived in, extinguishing the burning flame of his fear, and hold onto his belief that Wilbur soot will come back.

But it didn’t, and this Wilbur sees life as a show, a game to find out what blows up greatly in his insanity. He danced around the smoldering pit of hatred he presumed was there, he sang the melodies of flames from burning ashes.


He grabbed the mic and walked up to the podium of lunacy for one last show.


He never stopped dancing till the curtains of blades finally fell upon him.


That string, that fragile thin rope was still there. He wished desperately that he could just rip it away from him, cut it off without looking back at those old memories he still has in his heart, taunting him of the things he will never have again.


“I'm proud of you, Tommy. I'm proud of you.”

He closed his gaze tightly.


He never got the chance to grieve properly, never got the chance to divulge in those memories to cope with what he should do…
And now he has the chance to...but yet, he doesn’t know how to do it.

He moved slightly on his chair, He removed his head away from shivering hands and up to the fields of home he made for himself.

He remembers what dream told him while in exile, how attachment is the antithesis of being burdened by, how it can suffocate you greater than the vast sea of waters. He joggled with the thought if it’s true.

Because he saw it all, the ugly sides of being attached. It can be used as leverage against you as it can tirelessly make you hope that you’ll get it back without knowing when, and even if it isn’t taken away for it to be an advantage, it can make you toxicly infatuated like a fucking obsessed moth to a blistering flame.


But he saw the other side as well.


The beauty of bonds being created between trust and commitment, whether it would be platonic or not.
A person who will be there in the darkest times, and lightest days that makes life worth living in despite the pain it came with it.


“You and me, versus Dream.”


How it can be fulfilling to know you're not alone…


“Dream, please detain and escort Tommy out of my country.”


Despite the aching agony that they will leave you, abandon you…even hurt you...


“Yeah. It's alright. It's alright, hey! It was fun, we said our goodbyes already, at the start!”


But they will still fight the world for you, despite how unfair it is.


“We won...”


Tommy whispered with bated breath, staring at the sunrise that colored the sky warm. They're back here at the bench, where everything has started.
Tommy looked at Tubbo with a victorious wide toothy grin, is this what it feels like? When the shackles that tied against them all these years were now broken? To breathe for the first time in a world that was never kind to them?

Tubbo laughed with a joyous squeal, pumping a fist in the air for the freedom they had won for the first time in ages. He looked back at Tommy, eyes sparkling for a new life ahead of them.


“I like it, it's... Yeah! That's crazy!”


Tommy planted his palm against the soft tabletop, pushing himself off from the chair he once stuck to like glue. He closed his eyes with a soft inhale of air trying to calm himself away from the memories that both gave him pain and happiness.

He moved, still his fingers grazing silently on the table motioned with him till it had fallen off the edge and to his side. He looked up afar the skies that are not covered fully by leaves anymore due to trees shading so much this time.


He stared at the sapphire sky so clear without any clouds to bury it like snow, as if waiting for a certain bird companion to come back even if he knew they wouldn’t.


He sighs, there beneath the crackling anticipation he tries to shatter to bits of pieces and thrown to the pit of glazing acceptance.


His hand waved farewell pitifully to his partner that wasn’t even there. The blond smiled painfully as he clenched his hand while falling back to his side.


Days like this will come, people will leave you. It will be painful but that’s part of life.


He turns to his house ready to rest inside for a moment.


And we have to keep living.

Stitching is a good pastime when there is nothing to do, how a little strand of strings can meld into something new, or how it can fix something that is ripped apart. Tommy has been enjoying himself by making scarves, socks, and even clothes that can fit a grown person.

He started when Pogtopia rolled on, it's pretty hard to keep your clothes unharmed when you're being hunted down constantly, also not having the freedom to buy clothes in fear of getting caught. So Tommy became the bigger man as he tried to learn what the hell stitching is.

And for primes, he can still feel the sharp needles puncturing his fingers by accident.

It surprised him off guard when he realized he's actually enjoying this kind of handmade craft, usually, it’s just some things like flower crowns and small little rocks with googly eyes but knitting is unheard of on his radar because he thought of it as tedious.

Tommy hummed a quiet little tune, a needle sliding in and out of a cotton material he was planning to make as a newly improved sweater. Despite the aching recovery he got earlier outside, the blond happily yet calmly enjoyed himself on the kitchen table with hot steaming tea just in front of him, waiting for another sip of leisure.


He heard a tap on the window next to him, he instantly turned to it with a smidge of expectation but it was washed off by the flurry of raindrops hitting the panel.


His eyes fixated on the small droplets that slid down one by one on the glass, blurring the window like a splash of paint in a canvas. The feeling of anticipation was long gone by now with a disappointing slump by his shoulder.

He laid down his craft on the table, bringing his hands out to get the teacup to his lips. The warm liquid and the combination of a lukewarm home he sheltered in blast away his anxiety to a more mild range of greyish-yellow.

He put down his teacup in front of him, his thumb rubbing the porcelain cup with his gaze fixated on the greenish liquid.


“It’s going to be okay Tommy, Techno is alright.”


His grip tightened around the porcelain cup glaring at it as if it did something wrong. The deep worried anger scratched beneath his chest settled as he finally looked up, a blue leer meeting old ones.

Philza stared at him, brows furrowed but holding onto a calmer look of concern with his hat off showing his blond locks disheveled in a way like he had woken up, and dark shadow beneath his eyes showing how tired he is but still, he had that small smile that shambled away Tommy’s unsettling ambiance.

Tommy’s lips tightened, he peered above the velvet sofa’s headrest they were sitting on, looking at the entrance from a hallway where Techno’s bedroom lay. He chewed on his lip looking down again at the cup he was holding on like a shitty form of a stress ball.

“But he...he almost threw himself off a cliff for ender’s sake!”

His shoulder shook lightly at the recent event from the afternoon. He can still hear it.

Wilbur’s pained grunt from a bloodied broken nose, his shallow breathing as he laid onto the ground trying so hard to escape from his brother's grasp while Tommy stared helplessly on the sidelines, so conflicted about what to act on first. Whether he should defend Wilbur or call their dad.

But before anything violent comes again. Techno’s posture became rigged like a puppet being cut away from their strings and without a minute of waiting the hybrid just ran. He ran at the ledge with an intent to jump off.

If Wilbur wasn’t there to catch onto his twin, they would've ended up with a casket instead.

The young blond shivered, hunching over his drink with his vision tightened to a close. Thank ender, he was there to call for Philza. Thank ender, Techno is sleeping peacefully in his room, and Wilbur healing in his. He should’ve done more, he should’ve done something to lessen the hurt that his older brothers are experiencing.

He should’ve fought Techno away from Wilbur or- just try to help Techno snapped out from his raging thoughts, he should’ve done more but he just stood there, he just-

“Tommy, listen to my voice. Calm down, it’s okay.”


His father ushered him to complete and utter silence, his hands gripping Tommy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. He breathes deeply still not looking at the elder man in front of him. He let out a shuttered exhale as he spoke frail, he didn't like how he sounded.

“I-I should’ve done something…” The cup in his hand shook weakly “and you did, you're the one who even called me.” Phil reminded sternly, burying that token deep within him.

“But I should’ve done more!” He spoke barely to a yell. He looked up to the old man, finally giving eye contact. Vain ones meeting concern ones. “And you did enough.” The winged man alleged, softening his expression towards his son who was on the verge of crying. Even though Tommy refused to cry because big men don’t cry and he should know that.

“But...but...they got hurt...” his words were almost whisked away by the wind on how silent it was but Philza still caught it “And you’ll get hurt too if you tried getting in between them, mate.” “Why would that matter?” he argued, yet it was a weak one when disputed by his father.


“To us. To me, to Techno and to Wilbur.”


The golden boy stared at him, before squinting his eyes flustered. He mumbled, “why do you have to bring yourself and them against me?” His dad only chuckled back, face contorting akin to warmth.

“If not, then what's stopping you? yourself?” Tommy’s about to argue, agree to the notion he has self-control but he halts. The words he held onto his throat vanish like a fog being blown away by the wind of doubt.
“I don’t know…” he whispered, gaze settling onto the living room table in front of them. Both of them were silent while only the crackling of the fireplace could be heard next to the two.

Does he have self-control? He never thinks before he does something, whether it will hurt him or get screamed at, all he knows is the now and never the when. He needs someone to ground him, someone to make him realize what he is doing can be something comparable to a flood or a large gigantic rain wreaking havoc on a small town.

But he closed that thought off knowing Techno and Wil are more important than those things. So he broke the silence, mumbling a question that is always rising in his mind when things like these happen.

“What are we going to do?” Philza’s eyes flickered still holding onto Tommy's shoulder comfortingly “This is I…” his getting more frustrated at each doubtful thought crossing him “This is happening too fast so goddamn frequently that I’m scared what will happen to Techno.” tone trembling marginally.

He doesn’t want Techno to hurt himself any further but he doesn’t know how to stop it. He doesn't know what to do…

“You don’t have to think about that, Tommy.” Tommy stared at the man who held a determined glint in those irises that saw the world more bigger than him “Techno, Wil and you will be okay.” softly, his hand moved away from his shoulder to Tommy’s blond hair, petting his head as a means to soothe Tommy’s stressful restlessness.

“I’ll find a way, and I’ll make sure of it.” Tommy's gaze bore of something, between the line of relief and prospect, having faith that things will be okay.

He finally grinned, the one that screams 'TommyInnit' but something deep still stuck onto his chest“ As long we’re together on this. Promise?” He held his pinky up, wiggling it making Philza laugh a little at his display, he put up his pinky finger as well, still stifling a chuckle as they sealed the deal together. Between parent and child. Between Independent and dependent.

Sealing Tommy’s hope that things will be okay with his family.


“I promise.”

His feet landed against the cobblestone path he just made. The blond wiped away the sweat off his forehead with a pickaxe in hand, all the while feeling so proud of his craft. People may say wooden slabs or just wood, in general, is a good pathway block but those are just lying mouths of ones who have never seen or got enlightenment in life.

He stopped at the end of the trail, more presumably the fence gateway that sealed off the forest outside. The path ranges to his house, to the picnic table, and to here. He also got a chance to Mob proof some areas around the land when mining cobblestone, but he isn't finished with that, planning to mob proof at least a hundred blocks from here. He's gonna need so much coal and sticks.

He moved back to the picnic table, happy to walk on something so majestic he worked tooth and nail for.

It’s been a rough couple of days. Well, if you call it a couple of days from what just happened yesterday but he isn’t that clingy for a bird.

He halted his steps, mouth tittering to a frown when confronted by a patch of sunflowers he had just passed by. As if time just stopped for a moment.

Brows creased forward while looking back at the so familiar plants. Ray of yellow florets similar to the sun, so vibrant with life. Leaves greener than any normal tree leaf as if it had been dyed so carefully and so neatly, and the brown disc in the middle pointing upward to the sky waiting for more sunshine to come.

Longing filled him but his lips tightened, burying any feeling so similar to it, yet he noticed it, just for a bit. And so he smiled, it was tiny, but it has something to it, something so much more even if it so little. Bird or not, they were his companion, a worthwhile friend. Forever thankful for their presence.

He turned back to where he was going, his grip on the pickaxe lessened even when he didn’t discern how hard he held it.

And when he was finally where he yearned to be. What he saw on top of the wooden table made his heart leap to his throat, his thought having so many things to punch onto his brain.
His breathing was almost gone with a poof.


“Caw!”


They crooned, staring at Tommy akin of warmth, but at the same time the still familiar bastard beady eyes that grin. Tommy was baffled, aghast. Not knowing if he should cry tears of joy or just curse at the bird angrily or both.

He stepped forward hesitantly. He didn’t believe this, is he having one of those illusions similar to exile? He hopes to fucking not. But before he can even step one more time, his companion launch towards him, flapping their now healed wing like a goddamn speed jet.

Tommy let’s go abruptly of the pickaxe he gripped as a lifeline and now to the feathered creature between his arms catching them close to his chest.

The blond is so fucking confused and bewildered but his friend didn’t mind that one bit, their head and beak rubbing his cheek with a cheerful chirp. Before the kid can even communicate or even do something. He heard another ‘caw’ and it’s not from his friend.


He froze like a fucking deer in headlights, whether to faint right there and then. When he finally but slowly looked up to his house roof.


There, on the wooden slabs, not many of them, but still lots of them. Is a group of fucking crows who we're scattered on his roof. They sat with curiosity lacing their gazes, piercing it deeply to the blond who was pale in shock.


Tommy wonders what he had done wrong in life, why he had done for him to be smitten like this? Any lighting strike is better than what is happening now.


For the love of god or any primes out there, why?

Chapter Text

Tommy wonder’s how he got to this point, without expecting that there might be a possibility this might happen in his life. But he knows so well that this becoming real is one in a million universes to none.

Yes, he expected himself to wake up alone in his own bed, do chores alone, cook and eat breakfast alone, and tend to the flowers alone because that’s the reality in his life now. He doesn’t hate being isolated but it can become kinda boring and somewhat wistful knowing there is no one here to converse with.

But here? The now? He is fucking drinking the word disbelief, shoving the subversion of his own expectation on what will happen in his life up to here.

He didn’t think of the possibility of fucking birds or let a lone a murder flock kicking down his door and announced their existence back again in his everyday life.

He will never in a million years be taught of the possibility of sitting down on his picnic table outside his cabin; he will be swarmed around by his old flock. Two birds sitting between both of his shoulders, one nestling down onto his head like some sort of nest, and one who is responsible for this terrorism sat between his arms innocently as Tommy held the sign language book in front of them still in a state of shell-shock.

Although, those aren’t the only ones who are here. Some are perched above trees, some on his roof but mostly on the table he was using. The birds surrounding him leaned with curiosity over his arms to see what he was reading, some just sitting there vibing to hell and back.

Tommy just...wished he was dreaming but in the deepest part of his mind wished to never wake up and stay here . Despite the trickling fear that Philza might notice something’s up.

He just...doesn’t understand. Why are the birds here? The blond is so certain their attachment is like super fucking glue against the older man yet they’re here, for what reason?

It’s bothering him so badly to the point he tends to go auto-pilot for a second, slipping in and out of existence if that’s what it’s called.

Nevertheless, he tries to put his anxieties aside to think clearly. He should focus on the now and leave the future problem to future him. He swears he can hear his future self cursing profanities at the blond.

He looked down at his old companion who was purring subtly against his chest, now that he was thinking about it. The birds who are perched onto him are purring, his brows furrowed but he didn’t think much of it.

He whistled to get his companion’s attention but unfortunately, it was noticed by the flock around him. Some tilting their head at him and some not giving any shits but if you catch their movements a split second he should’ve seen how their feathered tail twitch slightly at his call.

He was met by stares, pricking his skin not pleasantly but not horribly. The kid just doesn't know how to describe it.

His companion finally looked up with a tilt of their head. Tommy raised his other hand a little as he tried to remember the exact signs.

His fingers twitched hesitantly as they moved.


‘Do you guys want to eat?’

While signing, he turned to gaze at the birds who surrounded him. To the roof, to the table, and to the trees. Counting them to see how many apples and fruits he should take out enough for brunch, Also taking note of how many birds will either make his life miserable or give him the smallest tiniest joy from them. And it seems like they’re 18 birds here, plus his companion.

He gently pushed himself off the table, standing up properly so the birds who are perched onto the boy like fucking statues won’t fall off and well- die I guess. He signed until he halted his fingers to properly know what to communicate.


‘Join?’


At first, it’s just his partner and the several birds that used him like a tree to sit on, but now a certain something spark inside his chest, something he really wished would just disappear right this instant.


Yet he didn’t stop it.


‘You, them?’

His friend nodded cheerfully while the other crows looked at eachother confused- oh yeah, he forgot. The murder flock doesn’t even know sign language let alone him being utterly mute , oh- how it would make Tommy’s life more easier, truly .

But as if their possibly existing brain cells are connected, his friend chirped at their flock by communicating Tommy’s sign language to them.

The birds perked up, some nodding their heads happily, but few still skeptical yet decided to ride along with it.

The blond lent his arm as another branch for his companion, He noticed how the birds on him didn’t dig their sharp claws in his feeble skin, on the contrary, the way they sat didn’t overweight the kid at all. It’s like they're just some kind of weird-ass stuff toys with a smaller amount of weight than a normal toy should have.

So Tommy, the very unbothered gremlin went to his home to fix a shitty feast for the measly bugs he wished to swat away while on the process of trying so hard to wash off the incoming fondness he’s starting to hold for the murder flock that barge in like a fucking wrecking ball.

He opened his door like it’s some kind of sacred place, which in Tommy’s opinion it is. He moved aside the entrance letting a bunch of birds in, Some stayed outside but the blue-eyed boy still let his door open ajar if they decided to come inside.

He let the crows scurry around his domain while he focused on making lunch, the birds that once sat on his body flew off with a conquest to venture out curiously in his home and only his companion remained on his arm.

But Tommy has to move his limb in order to do shit but they already did that for him, by hopping off onto the wooden counter. He should really give a name to his companion, now with the increase of their bird-pals coming in.

While he does his work, the birds in the background are about to reenact the birth of chaos. But respectfully. Because it’s their first time here. They don’t want to be rude.

So chaos is in the form of just a few birds huddling onto the warm soft sofa while the other few are hopping around the floors, the table, and the counter to just observe their environment. It was really cozy in their opinion.

His companion was taking the role of a guardian, Aka a babysitter to a bunch of chaotic fools who are strangely behaved. It’s not like the black creature wanted to lure their flock here but the murder are always a curious bunch with the sole intent to find adventure.
They look back at Tommy, cutting up a few apples and mangos with ease.


Tommy hummed hearing the crows behind him. Claws scraping the wooden ground, a few soft caws emitting from the group and the flapping of wings filled the once silent air he used to live in like a caved blanket that sealed around the pale boy.


Days, weeks, or even months have passed in his wake, there was no full-blown anger that bubbled up on the surface, no vile taste of grudges he once held onto as if that’s the only thing he can strive off and live, and There are no wars coming out of nowhere or himself…


It was peaceful.


It always has been in this small secluded house he honed of.


Yet, now it was filled by small sounds from a flock who never once glanced at him. It's not the loud screeching of death upon him anymore, but now it was domestic, nostalgic...It’s both painful and sentimental. But he still readied himself because knowing that this? Everything that is happening now?

It's as temporary as snow being left out by the slowly heated sun.

He flinched in pain with a silent hiss escaping his mouth, accidentally cutting himself with the knife. 

He held swords and weaponry sharp enough to slice a man in half precisely, and yet he accidentally cut himself with a kitchen knife of all things.

He pulled his hands away to his chest like he had burned himself, making the knife clutter onto the cutting board loudly.

His companion instantly noticed the distress and so were the birds inside his home. Without a second thought, the group of birds was pipped, both worried and concerned for their fledgling which made the blond keel over by the sudden sound. But his friend seemed to notice, making the small bird piped loudly at their flock to quiet down.

They listened, yet there's still a few caws of concern. Tommy turns to them slightly, giving a small awkward grin to let the birds know he's alright, enough to cement the creatures to silence. He turned to the sink to clean off the small cut with a subtle embarrassed grimace forming his face.


His friend stared at him with concern whilst all birds who remained in his house flew to the countertops to check up on him, who was filled with the same feelings.


It’s weird, like, really weird.


Something latched onto his chest. A familiar pinning he hopes to subdue as time goes on.


He was so used to people being wary of him, afraid of the war-ridden child would hurt them or wreck tragedies around like some fucking party. Because he was known for that, he was known for being selfish and prideful, not caring if some get hurt in the process just to get what he wants.


He once remembered the feeling of someone genuinely being worried about him. Not by fear of the boy invoking anguish against people, or hurting them in any way. But worried that he got hurt, that he got damaged by something big, or something so small.


It’s been a long time since he was ever cared for...or even the feeling of being cared for…


It was so foreign, yet so familiar.

It’s both scary, yet so incredibly...sincere...

The crows still stayed around him, in a way similar to a parent looking over a child fondly...They cooed with silent concern that isn’t pity, Their gazes soft with no jabs of mockery.


It was one simple emotion, one simple yet layered word that never made sense to him.


But as the cold water washed the small speckled blood off his finger, in a way like washing a small part of him that formerly held the golden child down to his knees.


Maybe he’ll make sense of it, not now, but someday.


Tommy took out a small band-aid from the drawers beneath him, slapping it onto his small cut with a satisfied hum. He showed it to his companion and to the birds that surrounded him like some kind of engagement ring. The worry in their eyes melted with a squeak of content as if Tommy did something incredible, it made him snort.

The cut didn’t hurt, and it was enough for him to carry 5 plates and a big bowl of fruits in his arms no problem.

The group followed him outside, his friend flying next to him as another bird took their place on his blond locks, purring.

It was warm.

When he was finally out, he noticed that all of the birds that stayed outside were on the picnic table. The blond’s eyes narrowed, discerning the small flock who were huddled in a circle with their heads raised up to the sky as if calling out to the great beyond. Wings open, connecting to one another similar to holding hands. Their black feathers acting like a hooded cloak made them look so sus and mysterious.

Comparable to followers having a kumbaya session and he doesn't know what a kumbaya is but it sounds funny.


But what caught his attention was his sign language book. In the middle.


As if they’re doing a cult summoning with it.

What the fuck…? He shouldn’t be surprised, being surprised by this is like being surprised that an active bomb just exploded.

He should drink more water and sleep off this bullshit.

But one bird broke the silence and it’s the bird on his hair, it seems like his companion is too dumbfounded to even speak like he was.

Maybe this isn’t a daily thing?

When the cult leader notices the sound of destruction, they squeak loudly at their edgy peers, alarmed, and all scattered like rats in the forbidden sewers.

Tommy just wants to have a good day.

The afternoon was a pleasant event for the group. The birds were at the picnic table with plates of fruit to munch on, the table was small so Tommy had to resort by taking out another small table for the remaining flock to sit on. It’s a feast in Tommy’s vision, to say the least.

A hand gripped gently onto the iron handle of his watering can, finally having his time alone from the flock who he enjoys the company of. But Tommy would rather die again if he was forced to admit it out loud, he may be mute but he has hands of communication.

The flowers beneath him bounce slightly by the dripping water hitting them. It was slightly colder than the usual autumn temperature and the wind was slightly freezing. It seems like winter is coming.

He moved around a few areas that need more watering before finally settling into rest. He liked watering the plants, it was a calm pastime like sewing when there was nothing to do for today, and it used to be what Tommy thinks of as tedious.

He put down the watering can next to a patch of flowers, passing by to rest next to the murder that seems satisfied from their lunch. He sat down at the chair making the birds perked up by his presence, they chirp happily.

Until they pushed something in front of the table to him. A plate with clean leftover slices of mangos and apples. They chirp at him, wanting the blond to have lunch too, and no, that did not make his heart go ballistic.

He huffs wanting to look tough but a warm smile betrays all those aspects. He mouthed at the group ‘Thank you’ and it was enough for them to caw joyously plus a bop of heads, as if they did something remarkable. Tommy only rolled his eyes taking a slice of apple with a nibble.

His friend flew to his shoulder with a warm coo, and- Oh , would you look at that, they were wearing the flower crown Tommy made for them. They express pride from it, showing the crown to their flock who in return pipped, gazes struck with interest and want.

Some birds tilted their heads and some cawed to his companion who returned it but smug. Their wing spreads to Tommy as if pointing at him. The pale boy finishes his slices with a gulp and a rise of a brow. Shame he cannot understand crow language.

His flock cawed, tone like they’re... begging? No. he thinks they’re asking. It seems like they want to have a flower crown too, often, Tommy only does this rarely but now his hands itches of reluctance. He sighs, Why not? It doesn’t harm anyone or him, and he doesn’t have anything to do today so…

He nodded to the flock who all cawed victories. While he tries not to smile too widely.

‘Do you want your name to be Delilah? Or Elijah? Both of them seem poggers.’

The murder flock scattered around him on the flower field, contrasting between the blackened feathers they yield and the pastel colors of plants. A child sits at a center with a notebook in hand while being sat upon by birds on his head and shoulders once again, plus on his knees as he sat criss-cross.

Some chilled with a new flower crown and nickname they loved very proudly, and a few who were enjoying their time, sitting around to look at the colorful florets during their wait for a crown they would highly protect with their lives.

The creature picked a name their fledgling offered happily, all the while excited to be given a flower crown with it. Their feathered tail shaking ecstatic. The boy chuckled while holding a yellow flower crown as if he's giving it to the new lineage of kings.

‘I hereby bid you Delilah the great, Do arson and make me proud’

The flower crown sat atop of Delilah with unfiltered happiness, delighted to be part of the flower crown squad. Crows all-around click gleefully for a new crow to join the cult, but Tommy doesn’t know it was a cult even though he was elected by the flock to be the grandmaster of flower supremacy.

Tommy hummed. His friend with no name yet snuggled closely to his golden locks that shined brightly beneath the sun.

Eventually, he finished the flower crowns, giving them to the remaining flock who happily took it with a new name. Tommy smiled at the crows who excitedly showed off their new crowns to each other until he remembered something inside the house. He excuses himself from the murder flock leaving them behind for a bit.


As the child leaves. The crows glance at each other suspiciously, as if they know well they’ll backstab each other like the medieval ages. 

They resorted by grouping up with the ones who have colors of buds similar to theirs, making groups of all kinds.

War is brewing around the factions. Beady eyes narrowing to one another in a cautious manner as they went to their colleagues that have the same shade of crown, ultimately making a rift between the once-solid murder flock.


Implementing segregation amongst themselves. If you do not have the same color as a certain group, you will be fed unrest.


There are four monarchs, but it used to be one whole country which was once a peaceful civilization. No wars, no sides but only prosperity.


They named this garden of land ‘O'live Garden’...Until a crow named Bepis the Keepis made a faction of his own, making every crow similar to Bepis join his side and hold a vision for a new country called ‘The red flowers of the land.’


But Crownelis the Phoenix, the one who held the purple crown of prosperity forbade it, only making a huge divide full of wars and suffering. He wishes for peace but the way he did it only made the crow civilization scowl. And the only thing he can make is another faction of his own called ‘The Amethyst of order.’


The war grew worse and worse between the colonies, only making some crow kind beneath them rebel and creating another group of their own.


The one called Theodoreth the greatest, was once trusted to those she thought of as great. But as anguish festered, her’s did as well. Anger held her while spite grew to the Government that took it all. The anarchists of the land who once saw the greatest things but now lowest of the low, they are bid as ‘the woes of white’


And the last group, the one at the neutral side of all fury and anger. Their leader was so intimidating and feared, none of the factions intercepted with them, not even Crownelis.


Robert the Robert, they have an Applebee's. Therefore a powerful ally with no one but themselves, they are called ‘The yellow merchants.’


But there is one crow who was once a friend of Bepis, who still held wonder and hope of no other. They have no name, but a flower crown that has all the colors of the factions combined.


They are Tommy’s first friend, also the first ones to wield a flower crown. the one who took all the brunt of anguish on having every color of the factions, but they have one blossom that no one has but theirs. 

A blue flower.

Desperate for peace or at least for the war against monarchs to stop. They called for a meeting of every faction from the once loved land now filled with fallen flowers.


Every Leader of every faction steps forward to the middle of the turf. With compromise and empty promises to give.


They all stared at each other, narrowed eyes and tight beaks, words that may or may not hold meaning.


Crownelis spoke of the language they all know.


“Caw caw caw-caw!” He accused the one who started this conflict, but he was only met by a spiteful glare from Bepis.


“Caw. Ck-caw.” He sneered back, jarring everything that Crownelis has done wrong and will not accept to be the only one held accountable.


“Caw- CAW WAWA- '' Crownelis laugh at his face, acid dripping in every syllable until he was cut off by Theodoreth who scowled at both of them.


“Caw caw caw- CAW CAW-” She furiously snarled at the two, giving all of the blame and faults to both of them. Both Crownelis and Bepis.


“Caw!” Robert piped up, happily announcing a new Applebee's building being made with new item menus.


“caw.” they were all silenced by the Nameless crow, beady eyes boring holes to those who were to reenact violence than calm words.


Bepis spoke, suddenly solemn when it came to the Nameless crow…


“Caw…” he spoke of their now broken trust to one another, the promise they once made to never leave the other behind. The crow with no Name only stared at him, both sad yet stern.


“Ck-caw.” they whispered, finally telling Bepis that their once beautiful friendship turned sour the day he chose his ideals as the only way to live.


They turn to the other leaders as well. The Nameless crow that has no faction, has no sides, but only their own judgment and determination “Caw ck-caw.” they asked- no, order for the conflicts to stop, to finally have peace above the land.


The three leaders look at each other. Bepis who sadly nodded, finally wanting unity to be upheld.

Theodoreth still held a deep grudge yet nodded as well, wanting for this meaningless violence to stop.


And last but not least Crownelis, the one who was once the ruler of all scowls at the mention of peace, but silently he hid it in, wanting to use this as a way to let the other factions think he accepted peace but really he wanted power. He nodded as well, still, he was given a doubtful glance from both Bepis and Theodoreth.


They were about to seal it with a bow of agreement, making the Nameless crow smile for a new decade or century of harmony to come.


But all disappeared when She, Robert, the founder of Applebee’s, the merchant of neutrality laughed with chaos and mockery.


“CAWAWAW-AWAWA!”


She smirked with fake grievances.


“caw…?” Theodoreth took a step back, her claws scraping the ground with hesitancy. Bepis and Crownelis starred in surprise, while The crow with no Name froze in dread until they rushed to see what she had done.


“Caw ck-CAW???” She smiled wide as if asking a dumb child.
The three of them spiked up, wings ready to combat what the hell this Applebee’s manager is talking about.


“Caw…”

And everything made dreadful sense when the crow with no Name spoke in fearful whisper.

All of the faction leaders looked around the trees above them and witnessed horrors beyond their crow years.


Apples. Everywhere. Red as blood vines and shiny like sharpened blades on the branches of trees, and there at the wooden bark are the followers of Applebee's who stared down at them menacingly.

Do they really think this will all end by not having Applebee’s everywhere? Where Applebee's be the true rulers of the land? How pathetic.


“CAW!”


With one-worded order, the followers strike with fast glides of blackened wings. And the faction leaders wasted no time to call for their colleagues to back them up.


War started once again, to the ones who are saints and the ones who aren’t.


And the Nameless crow gazed hopelessly to a place where peace is supposed to prosper, but yet again was ruined by another faction who thirst for control.

Peace can never truly come to those who wished hard, huh?

The factions fought hard, leaving no flower crowns to stay in their enemy's head behind. Long winded it was.


But all froze for the Nameless crow when they saw their used-to-be brother, but still a brother nonetheless, sparred with Crownelis.


Bepis fought hard. Wings and claws tired of the baseless movement of violence but Crownelis didn’t stop his batting wings for power and glory.


When all is said and done, Bepis’s crown fallen off his head, and he too stumbled down with no heart to bear.


All the no-Named crow can do is watch with despair. Their brother, a used-to-be friend fallen by the one who's supposed to reenact peace. Was murdered with no mercy.


They flew to them when Crownelis left with a cackling laugh. Stumbling breathlessly to their friend who was now dead.


They looked at Bepis’s flower crown that was knocked to the floor and to him .

His friend, his ally...his brother, laying atop a bed of flowers.

And they wail, they cried for his fallen brother, regretful of everything up to here.


There is no mercy. Not to the ones who have big dreams or the ones who have small dreams. Mercy is in the eyes of the beholder, and there is no beholder to be seen.



Until a whistle.


From the founder of this land, the one who made this area of flowers. All came to a halt like a powerful force not to be reckoned with, and all looked at the source.



Okay, what the hell?


Tommy just left for half an hour. A half an hour.

To like-  get some sunflower seeds and fruits for them to munch on. His eyes traced over to the birds that scattered around the flower field like it was some kind of mock war.

He saw birds laying like they’re dead or someshit. Tommy is having an incoming headache again, but it all came tenfold when he looked up at the trees and he saw fucking apples everywhere.
On the branches and on the grass…

He guesses this is where all his apples went, how fantastic.

He felt something drip above his head, he looked up seeing the sky enveloped by gray clouds. He sighs, foot-tapping at the cobblestone pavement still narrowing his gaze at what the hell is in front of him as the rain starts to pour lightly.

He whistled once again pointing at the door, needing all of them to get inside before the weather started to get heavy. And he was so ready to scold them when he saw some flowers broken. He is very tired of this shit, man.

But despite his annoyance, he doesn't mind it at all.

Shockingly.

Tommy was pleasantly surprised to see the flower crowns he made were all intact, no petals being ripped apart nor crowns snapped in half. The blond was so certain they would either lose it somewhere never to be found or just plain broken.

But now looking at the flock that is confined in his cabin who are all just chilling at the sofa or at the table and other furniture to be found in the big enough living room. They are rather...Protective of their crowns, crowns that are either on their heads, their necks like a necklace, or just next to them very closely.

Just that knowledge alone made Tommy’s scolding words disappear. He is getting too soft and the great Tommyinnit isn’t anything that is related to soft.

He thought as he almost finished making the filling of a Sunflower seed pie he found in a cookbook. A cookbook that was abandoned by Niki.

His cabin was lively despite the cold weather outside, he whisked the batter thoroughly whilst he stood next to a closed window, eyeing the outside flower field.

Baking was another thing he started when he began living here, it reminded him of the simpler times of Philza baking cookies and making hot chocolate when the snow or rain started to pour on the earth’s surface.


How warm and filled the house is with roaring laughter and snarky comments from brothers that are still together with no strain to part, and a father who will always groan disappointingly at each shitty joke their still innocent mind can make.


It also reminds him of Niki, a sister he will always see as. How the pink-haired girl would always call Tommy and Tubbo to taste her latest creation, cookies, muffins, cakes, and any pastries which will always make their mouth water for more. Niki is a mother to all, a strong and compassionate woman who always cares...Until…


He stopped stirring only leaving him to bore at the raindrops hitting the panel yet again. People may think he is naive, a child who never stops to look, to understand nor to care.


But he recognizes what it’s like to be stared at with pure animosity, hatred, and disgust. He is no stranger to fake smiles, fake hugs, and words of comfort laced with slyness.


He knows so well Jack and Niki hated him with a burning passion to the point they teamed up for his possible death.


Even if he doesn’t know why Jack abhors him or Niki despises him.


He will never have the heart to hate them genuinely.

Maybe it was guilt of not knowing what he did wrong for them to have those resentments or the pure exhaustion of holding grudges full of temper…


Or maybe both.


A piped beneath next to him took the blond out of his blind stupor. He looked down to his feet with a raised brow seeing a crow named Pete who seemed to appear saddened by something, and that something is a broken flower crown clamped gently on their beak.

They crooned wistfully, making the blond put down that batter-filled bowl next to the sink as he crouched down in front of the dejected bird.

He opened his palm softly for them to give the flower crown to Tommy, and as he finally got the snapped crown he started to fix it with no worry. The crown isn’t broken beyond repair, it just needed a bit of fixing.

Pete observed how the kid fixed it swiftly, their sadden look disappearing instantly when Tommy placed it on their head.

The bird was once again ecstatic with joy, they squawked at the blond pleased while going to the living room with a bounce back to their flock.

He stared at the leaving figure without realizing a small fond smile started to stretch on his face.

He stood up, finishing the pie he intended.

Something tender grew increasingly once again and Tommy only hoped for it to be slow .

Slow enough for him to have time of this solitude he always knew, just for a bit. before the inevitable happens.

Grabbing the now empty plates of the used-to-be pie, he contemplated how fucking sonic ass fast the crows ate it. When he ate his pie it was slow, savoring every bit of filling and bread. The crows just fucking slaughtered it with no mercy to be given.

At least they’re clean when eating. He tried to get every plate on his arms in a balance and to start cleaning, but most of the birds helped him thankfully. A few of them grab each plate they can carry with their claws and a few clean the living room that may or may not look like a disastrous mess because of the crows.

Tommy scrubbed the last plates, giving them to the birds for them to put inside the cabinet while he grabbed a blue cloth that is attached to the upper cabinet's handle to dry his hands properly.

When everything seemed clean, he went to his bedroom to grab a few blankets for the birds to bury themselves beneath when sleeping on the big couch. He whistled for the murder to come, feeling incredibly tired with the want to sleep.

When the murder finally gathered at the living room couch confused, he looked at his first friend with his hand signing.

‘Sleep. Night.’

His friend perked up but still cawing at their flock of the message. A lot cawed like children not wanting to sleep but some seemed happy to follow. Tommy was just too tired to listen to these rebellious birds.

He put his hands up, leveling his chest to halt them from their teenage angst. Grabbing two blankets to drape the birds beneath carefully and going back to his room to sleep from the cold night till he felt a small tug beneath the cuffs of his caramel-colored pants made him froze.

Brows furrowing, he looked down once again to be met by Pete tugging him to the couch. The birds seemed to notice their flock's action and cawed, wanting Tommy to join the sofa cult.

Tommy, too exhausted to argue anymore, just sighs defeatedly. He's been sighing a lot huh?


The flock scooted a slot for Tommy to sit on, happily chirping as the blond sat in the middle. He was so goddamn thankful the sofa is big enough to comfortably fit them all.


He drapes them all under the white cotton blanket, but a few birds move to Tommy, moving to his lap and to his chest snuggling on the child like some kind of warm furnace. It should be heavy for the blond but strangely enough, it’s...pleasant and comfortable.

Oh, prime, he's becoming soft, this is bad. He leaned his back and head begrudgingly against the soft sofa before remembering something.


He gazed at his first friend who tilted their head to him, still with the flower crown being worn like the rest of the flock.
Tommy gently took out his notebook as he eyed each page flipped until he stopped on a certain paper.


He turned to his companion for them to see it.

‘Name???:’

-Frida

-Evania

-Clementine

-Hien


The bird inspected each name for a moment, thinking deeply about what name suits them before finally picking. The pale boy looked at what they had picked and smiled once again. He wrote something on the pages.


‘You have good taste, Clementine.’


Clem purred with a happy chirp lacing their beak, snuggling close to Tommy’s side.


And once again, Tommy let himself lean cozily on the sofa and to the birds lightly. He glanced at the sleeping birds and to the ceiling above.


It was silent.


Only the tapping of raindrops and quiet snores from the crows was the only thing he could hear.


His eyelids started to get heavy by the warmth and comforting presence that surrounded the blond.


But not before feeling a small familiar string being attached to his fingers once again.


But this time, it’s not suffocatingly tight to leave a bruise nor loose enough to be snapped off by one wrong move.


It just felt...right.


So finally, Tommy let it be acknowledged. For now and Maybe Tomorrow.


He drifts off to a place with no nightmares to wake him drowning.

Chapter Text

His hair is getting longer.


Staring at the mirror inside his bathroom, he started to see the small changes in his appearance.

Noticing the long golden tail behind his nape he tilted his chin to see it more clearly. His bangs covered his right eye almost completely while some golden strands curled on his forehead, sideburns, and both sides of his chin.

His hair is a complete mess, but in a way that looks charming. Tommy racked his formed, fingers intertwining onto the yellow threads of hair with eyebrows tying.

Blue eyes which don't seem blue at all. It’s more similar to greyish blue, storm clouds of thundering rain coming to dull the weather to a more murky blanket. Eyebags dark but not horribly as they used to, bearing just a slight amount for the teen to appear tired, almost similar to wrinkles if he's gonna be honest.

His hand brushed to his cheek absentmindedly, the other gripped the marble counter tight.

The healed scars littered the kid’s face. on his chin, cheeks, and on his nose, covered by a white band-aid. And on his neck, the same white line installed on his throat, always making him squirm just by someone staring at it.

When the birds got here for the first time their gaze tended to land at his throat, it’s uncomfortable but he tried to rub it away knowing he can't bring himself to glare nor sign them off. He really is getting too soft over the past 2 weeks because of those wretched creatures staying here.

But he's been noticing they stopped doing that since day 2 arrived as if they knew it made the blond self-conscious. He hoped to prime that isn’t the only reason because damn- that’s incredibly embarrassing to think of. He sighed deeply, finally focusing on his full form.

White clean sleeves covering his arms along with healed scars and the red-white T-shirt appearing too big on him, it used to fit the young blond perfectly.

While staring more at himself, he felt something bitter growing inside of him, something lurching of uncertainty.


Long blond hair, blue eyes, and a face that seems to be years old.


He looked like a younger version of Philza.


He lurched mentally when he fully realized it, uncomfortable by the resemblance.


It’s kinda funny when he thinks about it.


If he was still the bright-eyed 8-year-old kid from their childhood home he would've been so happy , prideful to be mistaken as Philza’s biological son. He will go on, and on, and on telling people he's going to be the next Angel of death, and tremble before his might. He would even show off his long hair as if it's some form of evidence he is related to Phil.


But now looking at the mirror finding similarities from a man he should be happy to look like.


He was fully conflicted about what to feel. He doesn’t hate what he looks like, but he sure as hell isn’t loving the appearance. He's just...confused on what to emote, what to perceive. He only stared at the mirror thinking what's the right way to discern his jumbled-up emotions.


Philza...isn’t the best figure he should look up to now, he isn’t a horrible man and he is a decent father, at least, he used to be.


For prime sake- Tommy doesn’t know anymore. Emotions, opinions, everything about him is hard to discern, so hard to know undoubtedly.


But one thing is for sure, his opinion of Philza dwindled day by day since he left home, and even more so when he came back to L’manberg just to ruin things more.
Even when he was here, even when Tommy was finally in front of him waiting to be noticed…


His own father looked away like Tommy wasn’t even there to begin with.


Yes, they did interact, they did talk, but it only seemed one-sided.


And now when everything is all set and done, he was wondering if he should...move on.


The hand that cupped his scarred cheek went away, holding onto the marble counter in a tightening manner, he gazed down at the white porcelain sink thinking so deeply. It’s muddled, it’s blurry, cloudy.


He often wondered when he sat on the picnic table outside his cabin, observing his den with a faraway look.


What would it be like if he just stopped waiting?


He's been waiting for a long time now. There's no one at the horizon coming back to hold his hands anymore. It's only him standing at the waiting place, rooted at one thing, a goal he thought would’ve come back.


He waited, he waited, he waited…


And he waited. till snow finally emerged above the passing clouds,


When he finally looked up, cold, bitter, and heartbroken. He started to step forward. One at a time.


Could he just run without looking back?

Blue-faded eyes closed tightly, breathing deep within.


Everyone left him, and it’s his turn to leave as well.


And still, it was hard.


He opened the faucet splashing a handful of water in his face, getting rid of the sharpening heat seeping his pale skin. He inhaled in and out.


In and out.


Before moving to get a clean towel to rub the cold water off his face. With one final wipe on his left cheek, he folded the towel, putting it inside a drawer underneath the marble counter.

He fixed his hair while consequently getting irritated by the process without having any rubber bands to hold it in one place. He huffed, finally giving up not caring if he looked like he had just woken up from a raging storm. He turned to the door leaving the bathroom to his bedroom but not without closing the door behind him.

He checked his room if it needed some cleaning though it was already clean since he did the chores early. Tommy may be a mud eater and at first glance a dirty-ass raccoon. Which is true, but he's turning over a new leaf, less mud, and less raccoon business if he do say so himself.

God, he is such a big man.

Shaking off the melancholy feeling, he exited out of his room to see the kitchen and the living area being smothered by birds. Lots of them.

Tommy isn’t prone to be surprised, quite the contrary, he is a very hard man to surprise. But he will forever be in quiet shock despite knowing he’s going to be unfazed by this someday. It’s been 2 weeks after all.

He is still not used to this, although he's in the 5 stages of grief, almost reaching acceptance and sometimes backing out if things get too mind-boggling. He moved to the kitchen passing by crows and making sure he wasn't accidentally stepping on the ones walking on the wooden floors.

Grabbing a blue mug from the lower cabinet, he puts it on the counter whilst reaching the metal teapot to make coffee for the morning, but not before being perched once again by crows. He's becoming a sentient tree for these rat bastards at this point.

A few crows piped up saying good morning and Tommy returned the favour by signing with a still yawning smile.

As the teapot whistled, he started making breakfast for him and his companions. With a content hum, he looked out at the window seeing more birds sitting inside handmade birdhouses settling onto trees, above and below.

When the birds came here for the first time the blond was so sure they would leave when morning came. He thought they would never come back, only visiting once. He already accepted the possibility despite his stubborn heart saying otherwise.

And they did leave in the morning, well, some of them. But the ones who left came back with more birds on their feathered tails.

Let’s just say more flower crowns were made and sunflower seeds being much devoured. At least there weren't any mock wars being summoned out of nowhere, well, he hoped so.

As the crow population grew, his house wasn't big to fit all of them. So being the smartest, desirable, amazing king he is. He built birdhouses. At first, it was a daunting task but as days came by it started to become a routine, the crows even helped him.

Handing the boy birdhouses for him to nail on the wooden trees or strung on branches, also giving him materials as well.

He was so sure he didn't have many nails in his storage room, he wondered where they got them from.

He whistles softly for his companions alerting them that breakfast is ready. They assisted him by grabbing some plates as Tommy held the food for the picnic table outside with the other half of the flock. It’s an everyday routine now, he often eats outdoors with the murder; they're practically his roommates.

The blond went to the tables putting food on plates that were already set up. Crows fled around him with caws of good mornings and warm greetings, he too returned it with a cheerful hum.

It’s a lovely cold yet warm morning today, the soft embrace of winds and the usual sound of rustling leaves, plants, and florets. Also, the tinted aroma of soft flowery, and minted scents linger in their surrounding territory.

He sat on a chair next to his flock who were on top of the tables. He sipped some tea, not really hungry at all but that didn't stop the birds from pushing a plate of breakfast close to him, squawking for the child to eat.

The murder chirped to one another happily and to Tommy as well despite not knowing what they were saying, but either way. It doesn't matter, just being there is enough for him to smile warmly.

The flock bicker in a jest holding no resentment to one another but only a familial way. Teasing, fighting with food, jabbing each other with wings like kids, and some annoyed with them who just wanted to eat in peace.

He leaned onto the chair relaxed, taking in the comforting presence of his flock. It's something nostalgic that often bathes him in a familiar emotion, either a warm blanket or a blistering fire burning him to a crisp.

There's a fine line between it. It reminded him of family dinners or get-togethers. How his dad would fuss over the youngest looking like a stick for not eating enough. his siblings jabbing one another In a teasing motion with feet kicking at each other beneath the table snickering, making Philza get concerned about what the hell they are doing or Technoblade getting annoyed while, he too, kicks back but harder.

But at the end of the day. They see each other. They relish and love the presence of one another. Words of teasing are fondness, joking kicks only reserved for the people that are family, and concern from a dad who still sees you. He missed it. 

He wonders how long that age of his life has come to a close. Is it when Techno's voice started to become more violent? Or Phil and him leaving? When did the familiar but now foreign life come to end?

But it doesn't matter anymore even if he thought of it now or later, it ended and it truly doesn't matter when it did.

He gazed at the birds who were playing around with their now finished plates, they peeped at Tommy, springing around trying to get the blond's attention.

He signed with a slightly confused expression.

'What?'

The birds puff their chests up showing the clean table, and plates now gathered in a stack properly. The flock looked very proud of what they accomplished. Comparable to children cleaning their room for the first time when their parents didn't ask them to.

Truly, it stabbed Tommy's heart like a fucking arrow. No, he is not soft , he is not melting. He is like ironman, metal, and cold.

But it didn't stop the blue-eyed kid from holding a gentle gaze and an amusingly fond smile on his face. He signed.

'Thank you.'

He still isn't amazing with sign language and so are the birds too, but they do know simple greetings and easy-to-remember signs to communicate. But they are still learning together.

Tommy grabbed the plates while the birds stayed outside, but some of them flew around him, and a few perched once again on the now dubbed sentient tree they are affectionate of.

It's a nice morning.

The ladder cradled beneath him carefully, his arms extending to the wooden bark with a nail and hammer in hand. Two birds named Summer and Winter helped align the birdhouse in front of him so he can nail it to the hardwood securely.


He hummed a tune, a familiar one he remembered playing on the piano. Yes, Tommy is a pianist, a very good one in fact, so he is very talented and amazing so keep clapping.

He placed his palms against the top rail of the ladder while observing the high ground of their safe place. Birdhouses nailed against a lot of trees in varying degrees of height and also being strung against sturdy branches he carefully hand-picked scattered around them.

The faint rays of sunlight showered the leaves in stardust, the blue skies of wooly clouds leaped close to the golden child’s vision. He breaths in, releasing a deep breath simultaneously huffing out a frosted fog.

He looked over his shoulder to the cabin that was being set upon by plenty of birds on the rooftop, but he didn't mind it. The crows from the roof notice him watching so they cawed back with a light chirp.

He waved heartily before withdrawing to his work, the two crows gave him another birdhouse and he started nailing it on another space atop.

He wonders when Clementine and their group will come back. When he woke up Clementine needed to leave due to something important back at the snow biome along with four birds who we’re Bepis, Robert, Crownelis, and Theodoreth. He bid them farewell for a safe trip back to the cold tundra.

He is still a tiny bit anxious about Philza and Techno or anyone finding out where he is, but the birds knew his discomfort so they didn’t tell a soul. Although, Tommy never outright told the birds he was uncomfortable. They really are very fucking observant.

He guesses that’s how they all found out he is mute.

He climbed down when he was done, muscles aching and hands sore. Turning back to the picnic table seeing plenty of unfinished birdhouses sat atop the now big counter. The table used to be small, but obviously, a lot of creatures stayed so he made it wider for all, more rectangular shaped with three big umbrellas sticking in the middle of the wooden counter in a sided line.

He sat on his chair once again. He liked sitting outside when it’s morning and midnight, now when it was ridden of mobs to keep the outside place safe regardless of time.

He slumped against his seat, but ultimately, he laid his head against the table with arms beneath him acting like a pillow to carry the blond’s head comfortably. Tommy stared straight, peeking above his arms to the unfinished birdhouse in front of him.

He studied the still discarded woods and incomplete volary. Unconsciously, his hand moved. Fingers touching, inspecting, and feeling the rough ligneous entrance against his rough calluses.


He sometimes thinks…

Or often he tries to without blocking it. Did he ever do this with Philza? Did they ever...try fishing together? go on adventures just the two of them? or did they ever build a house even if it’s small? Or anything at all?

Just living life of a new scenario, a new memory for just the two of them to hold and no other?

He wanted to say yes, he wanted to tell himself those memories and experiences existed. But he now knows better not to lie to himself. He did have fond memories of the winged elder, but never just them, never just Tommy and Phil.

Is it late to do this kind of thing with Phil? To bond over something simple like father and son? His hand pulled away from the columbary to lay at the table.

He’s asking too many questions, too many queries when he knows it might never be answered. Not Phil, and not even him.


“Toms, just staring at you is making my backache.”


“That’s just a you problem, to be honest.”


He said bending his back a little more on purpose just to see Phil grimace in pain, worth it.


The fireplace crackled with warm heat bathing the living room where the family was confined. Techno and Wilbur sat on the red sofa. Phil is on a single cushioned armchair just across from his kids, wings tucked behind him comfortably, and Tommy on the carpeted floor in front of the sofa grinning like the little shit he is.


“Man, family night blows.” The brunette grumbled, slumping further onto the cushioned headrest next to the pinkette who was also bored out of his mind.


“You have no right to speak when you're the one who refuses to play anythin’.” Techno countered, huffing with his elbow propped above the sofa’s arm and a hand supporting his cheek. Wilbur only glared back at the hybrid.


"Well Techno, I rather not play card and board games that suck ass.”


Tommy only snorted. Grinning beneath his hands, he murmured “If you aren’t so bad at it, then maybe you would stop bitching about how shit you are.”


Wilbur’s head snapped down at his putrid sibling so ready to drop-kick a child “Careful kid, you're at a disadvantage right now.” Despite the easy access of being kicked off of existence, fear does not exist within the youngest so he still mocked the one above him.


“Say’s the one who’s always in a disadvantage against me in Uno-”


“Okay, I have enough of your bullshit . Techno, hold me back-”


“That’s enough. I don't need any wrestling match with low critical ratings in front of me.” Philza invaded between them with a stern sigh, really regretting having chaotic shits beneath his wing.


Wilbur sat back down slumping with a more prominent grumble escaping his lips, arms crossed against his chest. Leaving Tommy snickering and Techno wanting to sleep once again.


“What about this?” The elder sat forward a bit with a smile crossing his face, a hand resting on his knee with his elbows propped onto the armchair. “Let me tell you a story instead if you guys really don't want to play anything.”


Techno held his index finger still nonchalant “That's just Wilbur thou-” “Shut up.” He seethed but Tommy sat up excitedly when their dad mentioned a story and it was enough for Philza to do just that.


“I remember distinctly when I first traveled around the overworld, and how I met my first ever flock.” The two teenagers on the sofa instantly listened to Phil, already curious about the tale their father was about to install on them.


It’s not the first time their dad told them stories of his experience, but it was always about things on his lone adventures and never his relationships with people.


“Flock?”


The blond pipped slightly confused, he heard what a flock is. His dad called them his flock many times so he assumed the word meant ‘family.’ Which is weird because it meant Philza used to have a family before them.


“Yeah, flock. I met them in a faraway land above the flowing meadows of gold, and the largest trees that can compete against mountains.” His words swayed with memories, but there was something more beneath the man’s words, something Tommy didn’t notice nor understand.


“It was a silly accident, I’m still new with the whole elytrian thing. Bloody hell, my wings can’t even balance me in the air even if my life depended on it.” He chuckled faintly, eyes crackling with amusement “Did you crash-landed or somethin’?” Techno raised a brow at him, Philza scratched the back of his bucket hat- free head.


“Yeah, I crashed headfirst onto a tree.”


Both Wilbur and Tommy choked, making Philza even more embarrassed by the reminder. He rolled his eyes at the little shits fondly but still continued his story.


“I was around 18, still incredibly wide-eyed and excited about...anything really. So a new flock was so unheard of in my still fresh mind.” He leaned more against the sofa, gaze focused on his children but it had a faraway look.

Nostalgia, It speaks.

“It’s been a long time now, their names are skewed but what they look like is still on the top of my head.” He pointed at his temple until he lowered his hand slowly, an expression of deciphering came to view “It’s weird…I think it should be the other way around…” Mumbling, the siblings incline forward, and each felt something brewing below their skin.


“There are three of them.” He put up three fingers. His gaze wore his heart.


“1st, who is so weird both in humour and mannerism, but he's smart. He can speak with elegance, charisma. A leader in every sense of the word." His hands moved similar to a storyteller speaking to a bunch of campers in the lapis night while the fire crackled in the middle of them.


“His voice smooth as silk of a royal robe, eyes blue as the ocean mirroring the morning sky, and hair golden brown like a sunset painting the far-reaching heavens.”


They were invested in the description of who this mysterious man is, trying to piece what he looks like just by those few words.


“Sometimes when he talks, you get the recognition of mischief in his voice. Like he was hiding something you wished you would not be a part of. In other words. He's a little shit.” The siblings snorted and so was Phil, grinning softly at a long remembered memory.

He moved to the next.

“And the 2nd was quite the opposite.” He put two fingers up.


“He's not good with words, rather he's good with action, you get the feeling he's an introvert just by being around him. But when he gets comfortable with you, you can finally see the side that made him unique.”


The aged blond tapped his fingers against the armchair. Wings folded loosely.


“He’s good at fighting, moving like a graceful dancer with an iron fist. Hiding behind a cold facade to appear tough but in heart, he's a big softy.” He chuckles earnestly, staring at the fireplace.


“He loves books, you can just- see how his hazel eyes grow vibrant just by mentioning a bit of literature, how his expression turns to excitement through challenges. And how his chestnut hair is always messy from exhilarating fights that keep his heart beating fast for more.” He clenched his hand, motioning a victorious fist for a moment.


The two on the couch kept their gaze locked onto their father and so were their ears. But Tommy, on the other hand, was thoroughly confused, eyebrows knitting. Feeling familiar with these unknown people.


“And the last one is…” He trailed off.


Something changed in Phil's voice, so was his posture. He turned back to his children who gave back puzzled looks. His mouth turned into a thin line. frozen.


Tommy doesn’t understand it, like, at all. His dad appeared to be...sad? No- that isn't right.

Is it...The same as losing something dear to you like Wilbur finding out his guitar pick got broken? 

He doesn't know, but there's something more the youngest doesn’t infer.


“I don't remember.” he whispered, gaze bore on his lap “I don’t remember what he looks like.”


Tommy’s chest tightened, he doesn’t know why.

“But...I remember his smile.” The elder breathed, little light came again to his ocean irises.

 “A smile that can brighten anyone's day when the sky is nothing more but dark and gloomy. Giving back hope when it was, well...hopeless.” his mouth upturned, a hand racking his long hair and wrinkles becoming more noticeable.


“And his laugh, that bastard laugh that cackles loud and clear, persuading people to laugh with him despite whatever the hell is happening around us."


His tone was painful but it was affectionate like all the other descriptions he gave of old friends.


“He was annoying. He was endearing. He was everything.”


The fire crackles, the room cozy as though a blanket is wrapped around the family. The breathing of siblings was quiet but comforting, knowing they’re not alone but together in one single space they enjoy being with.


“It’s a shame we split ways.”


That made Tommy tilt his head curiously, still, the suffocating feeling was there.


“What happened?”


Wilbur was the one who asked, elbows propping on both of his knees leaning forward to their dad. Interested in what ensued in their father's first flock.
Their dad tapped an index finger on his chin, thinking.


“I guess....we just started having our own interests, our own dreams, our own beliefs.”


The way he talked was unsure, as if even he didn't know.


“Each one they just...left. Leaving me behind to wonder...what's next?”


He shrugged, expression pinch but a tight smile was still there


Techno scoffed, tying his arms together “Well, that was rude of them to do.” muttering under his breath, Wilbur nodded in agreement.


Tommy only stared at the carpeted floor, deep in thought.


It’s…foreign to him. Friends separating? That was bonkers as hell. But then again, he was a bit lost on what to feel, what side to choose. Whether he should agree with Techno and Wil or just...feel something else other than saying it was a dickhead move to do.


Well, it is a dickhead move, leaving their dad and practically abandoning him made the blond mad but he wonders...Is Philza angry too? They left their dad so Phil should be angry.


But as he looks up to his guardian, he doesn’t see anger. Only fondness, sadness, and reminiscing. Things Tommy can’t comprehend yet. Things a child still can’t grasp.


So he can't help but question. An old mind echoes, so his mouth moves without any thought.


“Do you still miss them?”


His family members snapped their focus on him.


The blond elder’s expression jumbled messily, like different kinds of colors mashed without any plan. Even he doesn’t know. Until it went still and turned to something soft. Acceptance. It was loud, but it was quiet. It was between that.


“Yes.” 

He simply stated, his posture melting. Gaze darted on his hat hanging on a rack beside the door. He whispered in a hushed tone.

“Sometimes...I even wonder, despite a hundred years had passed when all of us left to pursue something bigger. Do they still think of me as I think of them? Do they remember me as I remembered them? As blurry as it is…”


A second of mourning crossed the immortal's face but he shook it off with a familiar tilt of a smile.


“It used to hurt. A lot. But it ended when I finally met the people I needed.” He looked back at his family with a store full of affection.


“All of you.”


Wilbur can’t help but give ‘awwws’ as Techno tries to hide his red cheeks by coughing on his arm wanting to look unaffected while he fails to do so.


And Tommy put his hands up with a giant frown, heat rolling on his face angrily embarrassed.


“Not this sappy shit again!”


Wilbur ruffled his golden hair and jabbed his other arm to the pinkette who was still hiding this gross mushy feeling he saw cringe “You guys are so weak when it comes to dad's coddling.” He laughs.


The youngest buried his face onto his palm, hiding his wide wobbly smile from his family.


“Oh look, is big man Tommyinnit smiling?” Techno mocked jokingly. He snapped his head towards the second eldest, trying to give the scariest glare known to existence. But instead, he looked like he was about to cry tears of joy, even though he does not cry and he does not feel joy but only hatred.


Phil cooed while both Wilbur and Techno panic by throwing blame on who upsets Tommy.


He would seriously trade his family for a corn chip. But even he knew he wouldn’t do that.


He would never even trade his family for the universe.

So…


What is capitalism you may ask?


Well, Tommy knows it’s bad, very bad, no good business strategy. But you know what else is bad? Wearing wet socks. Disgusting, horrid but accepted in any society.

He spits on the faces of those who accept it. A disgrace.

He said taking off his wet socks in self-hatred. The birds are getting stronger, this is no good.
Today they became bitches and dropped a bucket full of water on his face. He is absolutely furious.

Pranks may be accepted in his payroll but it was only accepted if HE did the pranking, this is illegal in the highest order of society ever. Smh.

These crows may be acting like angels these past days but oh- that ain’t the case. These creatures are from the devil themselves and he knew that fact for years now, those little shits are born to be tricksters, and honestly, same.

Tommy has been a goody-two-shoes for almost 5 months now, he changes a couple of things about himself he sees unfit for his health and tries different coping mechanisms to use as a means to give him a good way to be entertained while healing.

But what didn’t change is pranking people, albeit it’s more sedate than an average TommyInnit prank because he really doesn’t want anyone to get hurt just by some joke he thought was funny. He's laying off with the whole violence thing, thank you very much.

And that's where capitalism came in.

He changed to a more dry attire, inspecting himself in the mirror with a now more messy hair dangled up like a nest, how fitting. He rolled his eyes sarcastically, not bothering to fix his curls.
He patted his clean T-shirt down with a very lovely plan to annoy the birds.

He doesn’t really care if it works, he just wanted to see the birds be annoyed with each other because he is quirky like that. He went out from his bedroom to see his flock either tittering quietly or regretting what they did. But Tommy knows those are not regrets but the evil laugh of a homicidal maniac.

He glared at them with no heat behind his pupils, he went to the storage room to grab a single chest and a sign-carrying it out of the area. The birds tilted their heads curious what their fledgling was doing, still humored by their prank earlier.

Tommy went out to the garden and being very not clingy birds, they followed him to see what he was planning, making sure he won't do anything to hurt himse- them.

The blond was in the middle of the glorious cobblestone path. He puts the chest down and planting a sign next to it. The murder from the outside peeked up from their small houses confused.

The ones that followed Tommy flew over to see what's happening until they saw what the sign said.



Birdhouses for rent:

1 seed For a 1 week stay.

Pay while you can. If you're poor then that's cringe.

Prime, he feels powerful. Is this what assholish innkeepers feel? He’s becoming a businessman, but he will make sure not to become corrupt because that is a massive L in his personal opinion.

Puffing up his chest with a shit-eating grin, he turns to the birds who seemed lost and confused. They look at each other and at Tommy. Expression indicating ‘wtf?’ the minor nodded solemnly but failed to hide his obvious humoured-full smile.

He signed, still hesitant if what he gestured is concise.

'Pay up or pay down.'

The birds are baffled, absolutely shocked by this fetus's audacity. This is treason, but who says it is to the one who owns this land? Monarchy sucks ass.

Tommy was already satisfied with the reaction, but he wanted to fuck with them just a bit more to see if it really works, not because he wanted to exploit the birds, but curiosity is melded in his blood since the dawn of time.

He whistled with the gremlin grin of his

He patted the sign whilst leaving them to their budgeted doom. Already planning when to get rid of the chest and sign when it either fails or not.

He gets wet, they get rent.

Oh- how cruel the world is, truly. He laughs evilly, on the inside .

Okay.


What?

The birds around the blond outside looked at him, proudly smug.
And as the amazing prankster he is- is not fucking deflating. He doesn't deflate, he is not a balloon both metaphorically and literally.

But damn did he sag like a pile of overly-wet sand crouched down in front of the open chest, eyes wide in pure shock...

Seeds, lots of them. Some seeds from different plants and biomes he never even fucking been to or know- So much it filled the chest to the brim it tumbles out off the fucking casing.

Look, Tommy is a man of profit, usually, he would jump up and down, pumping fists in the air yelling 'success!' and start marketing the value up by 10 because he is a great salesman of such and not a sellout.

But hell, he felt guilty. This prank tremendously worked when he expected it would fail. And he doesn't mind If it fails, he really doesn't care. All he wanted was a reaction from the birds to satisfy his revenge plot.

But it's his fault at the same time, he did tell them to pay rent and stuff, never clarifying it's just a prank but still- these are Philza's crows, the same crows who doesn't care for rules, orders, and fucking pay because they're fucking birds-

Is he seriously being that one person who says 'failing from success'? Holy shit that's horrid.

He's having a massive headache. He hopes his white strand does not double over, he seriously doesn't want to look fucking old than he already is. But old equals wise right? Wait no- it means Philza is wise, fuck that.

Futile, he tries to close the chest completely but too many seeds doesn’t amount to any of that achievement, the grains only spilled more out of the treasury making the blond give up more on life.


He sighs irritated while standing up, turning around to the flock who are apparently very proud. Fuck him and his easily guilt-ridden soul.


He signed with a small frown.


‘It’s a joke, you don’t have to pay or anything.’


His flock only tilted their heads not buying his words so he clarified it again more sternly.


‘It’s a prank, for real.’

They only stared as he stared back.

Some of them scoffed, a few shook their heads and titters. Tommy frowned, well, if they don’t believe him then he’ll just get rid of the chest and- boom, this prank is done for good.

He did his work, cleaning up the chest and getting rid of the sign begrudgingly. Most birds followed him and the others above their lovely small houses watched him fondl- mockingly.

Now gone and clean he patted his t-shirt to get rid of the dirt, birds fluttered around him using the child as their lovely tree once again.

Tommy was tired. He wished Clementine was here to help him control these foreign beings doing unexpected actions that can end him if they put their minds together.

He should sit down and make coffee, maybe make some lunch for his anomaly roommates.

Yeah, that seems like a good idea.

Okay, why the fuck is the chest still here?

He went outside with his companions just to see that goddamn thing still there, he was pretty sure he put the chest and the sign away so why the hell is it still here?

Tommy was ready to choke some bitches, but who were these bitches though? He looked around his flock dead in the eyes ready to threaten to take their flower crowns away, therefore their souls. They only looked away hiding the nervousness but too bad, Tommy can smell fear. Rest their poor souls that might not even exist, but they are now.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he breathed in carefully, not in anger. Well, if the birds didn’t know any better they'd assumed that.

They flew, escaping the vast rage of a gremlin can muster. Death is prominent if they stay in the vicinity, they pray to any powerful beings above to save them but God has AirPods.

So capitalism stayed, not by his choice.


They gave him puppy eyes, which is HIS thing, they used his advantage against him and that’s a very dirty move he will not suggest, ever.

He sulked against his chair, deep-neck inside his huge fluffy crimson sweater with his narrowed gaze against the wooden seed container now there, forever. Because the murder wants it to stay for shits and giggles which is not funny at all. All he wanted was a prank, not a capitalist system on his lawn.

The crows surrounded him, snuggled on his lap between arms and on both of his shoulders. If you’re far away, you might think he was covered by a black blanket but nope, it was these fuckers subjecting him to calm unwillingly.


He closed his eyes for a moment.


Once again….
It was quiet outside, it was restful. Occasional sounds of feathers ruffling and caws from his partners are the only things he can catch.


He studies the area around them, the forest looks more lively, more filled with life. It was always filled with animals but it was never obvious, but now with crows flying around with their small birdhouses strung and nailed onto trees. It felt more lived-in than before. He likes it, but he’ll never admit it.


He stared up to the sky. pink and orange, pinpricks of small identifiable stars starting to pop up out of nowhere.


His eyes glinted, tender. He felt.


The cooing of birds vibrated gently on his chest, succumbing him to the commodity of tranquility. It’s safe, so safe. He wanted to stay like this for eternity if he could.


But it was broken up when he saw up in the sky is a flock of crows, but not just any crows, it’s Clementine’s group. Tommy was relieved they looked fine without any injury on them, he whistled for the birds to let him move and they listened.


He stood up still being latched on by some of his flock, on his shoulder and now head. But he doesn’t mind it.


The birds who returned landed on the picnic table with something on their beak. More specifically Bepis and Crownelis.


He narrowed his gaze to see what it is…

It was a...black choker laced with intricate designs of vines and roses, and the other was...a red rubber band made of silk.

They look bashful, well, all of them look bashful. Clementine, Theodoreth, and Robert turned to the ones holding these things giving them a reassuring stare.


The golden-blond child was confused bending down a bit towards them, just thankful they came back without a scar in place.


Bepis and Crownelis went close to Tommy, their flower crowns were still there, all of them practically never want to take it off and it kinda warms Tommy’s heart, but nothing can burst the loving flame more when they laid out their presents on the table in front of him.


For Tommy. It was a quiet message.


The kid’s eyes wide, heart beating fast, chest firing welcoming heat.


He turns to them, and to the presents, and back to them.


His breath hitches, it clogs up but he moves so delicately as he signed.


‘Is it...for me?’


The group nodded vigorously, beady gazes only staring at him nervously if he likes it.


Tommy hesitantly moved, holding the gifts with so much care in his clutch.


He ogled at it, he really did.


Tears flowed down it seemed and the crows panicked.


They flew around Tommy, trying to halt his tears with so much comfort he thought he'd never have again. But now that felt like a lie when he really was perceiving it, so deep within. It felt real.


He hugged his presents so close to his chest like they were the most precious things in existence, and maybe it is.


‘Thank you...’


He signed while the birds leaned on him so close. So there.


‘Thank you...’


They rubbed their beaks delicately on his wet cheeks and his hair.


And for once, he let it happen without any embarrassment to have.





He looked at himself in the mirror.


Bright golden hair now tied into a low ponytail, proper and clean but still a bit messy showing he's not really skilled at hair styling at all, but he’ll practice it when he has time which is a lot.


Eyes a bit bluer, shining with happiness and uncontained joy. And the now more faint eyebags don't seem visible anymore.


He rubbed his hands against the red sweater gently, his skin beneath the cloth felt warm, cozy.


And the scar on his neck is now covered by a black collar. It should feel uncomfortable but all he discerned was the opposite, now knowing he won’t feel self-conscious of someone inspecting it anymore.


He stared back at himself and smiled.


He likes it. It’s him.

Meanwhile...with Clementine and their friends earlier before the present giving:



Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit-


They need to hurry up or Philza is gonna find out- they will be doomed for all eternity.


All they wanted was to make their fledgling a gift, not fucking trying to be sneaky ninjas. They don’t want to be sussy baka tonight, they don’t want to.


Clementine and Theodoreth anxiously were on the lookout, high alert for the two anarchists, while the four others were finishing up the collar and silk band. It should be common sense for them not to make it inside the cabin’s main room where either Technoblade or Phil can just waltz in unannounced but dammit it, they need resources and the cabin is full of it.


Thank death herself, the other crows who aren’t part of their flower cult are with Philza doing whatever they are doing. They still love Phil, they just have some...things they don't really agree with now when they finally see Tommy’s side, even though the young blond never signed or did anything that can sway their opinions towards dadza.


They don’t love their fledgling, they're just very fond of him, like, really fond of him that they’ll just do anything to protect him, ya know?


Robert cawed at her flock, finally finished with their gifts. Hurriedly, they grabbed onto the presents ready to chuck themselves outta there like a pack of potatoes.


Till the door swoops open.


Oh fuck.


It’ll be fine if it's Technobalde, because the hybrid doesn’t really give two shits on what they are up to but Philza? That man is a walking book full of questions and interests.


The elder blond was covered with heavy snow, raven wings spreading slightly shaking off the snowflakes. What was worse is the crows surrounding Philza. Inspecting them. This is such a bruh moment it ultimately made Clementine question reality itself.
 

Busy with getting rid of the snow, Theodoreth silently looks at Clementine and the three, eyes screaming ‘let’s book it fams don’t care for consequences, be metal.’ but luck isn’t on their side today because fuck them why not?


“Why, hello there.”


Philza smiled gently at them, letting the crows inside his home before closing the door behind him. The flower cult froze like a statue because what the hell are they going to do now? They tried hard to muster up some big brain methods to get out of there, but it seems like their IQ expired like their will to live.

Phil became slightly more concerned about their subtle reaction, he looked around his flock who seemed to be confused as he is.


He went slightly close to them, noticing the same flower crowns they wore when they always came back here. He wondered where they got them from. Maybe they made It? They are really good at crafting things despite not having hands.


But it’s still weird for the elder, his gaze flickered at the two crows holding a collar and a red band that’s made of silk very...protectively.


What's that for? He's pretty sure those things are too big for them to even wear.


The birds in front of him seemed tense as if they were hiding something from him. The bucket-hat man narrowed his vision to the group, making them tenser than they already are.


“I see you're still wearing the crowns, did all of you make them?''


He gently asked, leaning down. He didn’t have the chance to be clarified if they did really make it, but the birds looked at each other like they were playing Russian roulette of who would answer this deep, complicated question. But the one who had random colors on their head spoke, Clementine was it? The bird told them it was their name last week which sounded...nostalgic for some inexplicable reason.

He wonders if they thought of that name by themselves.

‘Yup, we made it.’


They only appeared more anxious.


Okay, they're hiding something, which is nothing new to Phil at all. He knows very well his crows love hiding stuff from him.


He tilted his head with a soft hum. He pointed at the two gifts, making them quietly panic.


“What’s that for, mates?”


It was silent for a minute before the one with the white flower crown named Theodoreth spoke very seriously.


‘Revolution.’


Ah, they’re at their rebellious phase again, great.


But the one with the yellow flower crown named Robert spoke more bashfully.

'For Applebees.'

She mumbled, Clementine only stared deadpanned at Philza speaking next.

'Just for some personal stuff.'

That seemed more likely, Phil pursed his lips still not satisfied with the answer.


The bird-hybrid has been...noticing some of his flock are acting suspiciously, they were leaving somewhere he doesn’t know while he also noticed some of their stuff is being taken without permission.


Mostly nails, which is strange.


Also, there were a lot of birds wearing flower crowns who looked to be very attached to it, he assumed they made it which can be the case but for what reason? Are they making another cult again? If so, then where were they going? They even seem skittish around him and their other flock- who don't have flower crowns mind you, too.


This has been going on for what? 2 weeks now? But he doesn’t want to be bombarding them with questions despite his ever-growing curiosity on where half of his chat was heading.


The crows in front of him were skittish, he sighed standing straight.


“Okay, if something happened, just tell me. I’m always here to help.”


That made them slowly ease down.


They looked at each other once again as Clementine speaks with a beady smile.


‘Okay, dadza.’


They bid their farewells leaving off to the sunsetted sky.


Philza and his other chat stared up at the now gone group.


His mouth thinned to a line. Having an urge to follow them.


And maybe he will.

Chapter Text

He hates this, he hates this, he hates this.


Ice. it touches his skin like some kind of volatile blanket freezing him inside and out, subjecting him to a frozen tundra of static.

Why does it feel dark? Why does it feel like the black shadows he scorns from the gaping corners of their house seem to spread further and further up to here just to swallow him whole?

He doesn't like this, he doesn’t like this, he really wishes it would stop.


This isn’t fair.


“So...you really are leaving…”


He doesn’t want to believe this is happening. He doesn’t want to accept the possibility of even being here.


But as Wilbur whispered, it was finally confirmed, punching him back to this wretched reality.


A moment of desperation and fore-long selfishness Tommy had held up to this point was starting to crush him beneath the heavyweight.


He wanted to find another way, another chance to open a different path but as he stood there in front of his father and brother who were outside their door, ready to leave to the foreboding and mysterious outside world. He, for once in his life, never felt this hopeless.


Phil smiles at them, a similar sentiment hidden beneath reassurance. But Tommy can see through it, he's desperate as well. Phil doesn’t know what to do anymore and Tommy can see that, but the promise, god the promise.


Does Phil remember it? After everything they have been through?


Cold, cold, cold it’s cold-


Tommy held his words of betrayal underneath his burning throat. Words he wanted to scream out and curse till the sun blew up due to his acidic sentences. But that’s selfish, isn’t it?


God, his lungs feel increasingly tight, choking him with a knot traced with guilt and hurt, burning his neck of a piercing burning arrow.


He wanted to remind Phil the promise they made before all of this shitfest blew right up in their faces. But what benefit would it hold up anyways? Give their dad more guilt? What positive attribute can it even give for fuck sake?


Tommy isn’t dumb, he isn’t deaf when it comes to problems. Sure, he's selfish and a snobby bastard who puts his opinions higher than anyone could reach, but he knows where and how to shut up when shit hits the fan.


“I’m so sorry, there were no more ways and this is was the only option-”


“I know.”


The brunet intercepted, gaze stonily at the elder blond but it was not one with fury but more in a conflicting sense. Even Wilbur doesn’t know if this is real.


“I know that dad, I just-” His hand slipped through his chocolate hair, brows tying in a deep thought scrambling to find a reasonable answer to deny this choice. He tried, he really did.


Breathing in trembling a bit. Wil closed his eyes for a minute.


Fingers interlaced his locks heavily. What to do...what to do…


Silence covered the group, cursing Tommy in each dreadful second.


He hates this, he really really hates this.


Finally, what seemed like an eternity. He opened his dark brown eyes, glossy and exhausted on trying to find a reasonable answer. Not this shitty last loose end they choose out of desperation.


“Just...don’t forget to send letters and Visit, alright?”


Phil forced a smile, his hat clutch on his side. nodding “We will.” His voice is soft as ever.


And that moment, the heavyweight pressed more harshly against the blond’s chest, almost leaving him in a breathless state.


Wilbur was a family man, as stupid as that sounds but he is. He’s the glue between this weird strange family, wanting them to be together all the time on whatever problem nor journey they faced.


He was the warm crackling fireplace. Singing songs to Techno when the voices are unbearable, the one who was chaotic when Tommy is not, and the one who was the warm sun basking the house when Philza is away.


Tommy looked at Techno who was at Phil’s side, desperately wanting to find any sort of revelation, any comfort. Thirsting for anything from the quiet hybrid that was his brother.


But he only avoided the youngest gaze like a plague, stucking his vision at his side and never to his two brothers. A mask they once teased was now an iron shield for whatever expression the hybrid wore.


His face was hot, clashing toe to toe against the freezing cold on his skin in a nauseating battle.


“Techno?”


The oldest of the siblings called out, whispering soft wool. Waiting in bated breath for an answer.


His fingers trembled. He's drowning, he’s drowning.


No answer.


Blue glassy eyes peered against the wooden floor, trying so damn hard to calm down his tumors. Is Techno disappointed? Angry that Tommy didn't do enough to cleanse the vicious cycle of screams and whispers inside the pinkett's head?


Did he do anything useful even? Or did he just stand there spectating uselessly?


He doesn’t know, and he was scared to find the true answer.


A hand grabbed his shoulder, both warm and burning.


He looked up to whatever kneeled before him, seeing none other than his father staring back at his concern.


And without noticing, hot tears started to drip down the boy's face. He winces.


Shit, this is embarrassing.


Gritting his teeth, he harshly scrubbed away these bastard tears assaulting his face mockingly.


“It’s going to be okay, Tommy…”


The elder hushed, his warm calloused hand curled against his youngest son’s locks while the other did the same for Wilbur who also was on the verge of breaking when witnessing his small sibling finally crying for the first time in years.


Phil’s face softened only showing his vulnerability to the people he loves, consoling both of his sons before leaving to the cold harsh world he once left for his children.


He let his family curl around his arms, bathing beneath the safety of their guardian. Hugging them till they are ready to let go. He muttered reassurance to the true world he held or even the universe.


“You’ll both come back right?”


Tommy finally spoke, tone cracking at the end desperate for a yes.


The promise. A voice whispered at the deepest part of his mind yet Tommy blocked it off knowing the reminder of any promises will leave more pain than hope.


“Of course we will.”


Philza chuckled, moving to see the boys in front of him more clearly.


“And when we do, will have a bunch of trinkets, bounties, and gifts from faraway lands ready to give to you, you little shits.”


He ruffled up their hair with a wide grin, a slight ease melded Tommy's anxious heart. The cold blanket is a little bit warm now.


Wil snorted, now a small but still tired smile powered through his face.


“You better make sure of that, old man.”


Phil rolled his eyes before hugging them tightly once again, as if he too was scared of letting go. And Tommy doesn’t blame him, he’ll never blame him. They hugged back, basking at this moment forever. But an empty slot reserved for Techno was still empty.


Tommy looked over Philza’s shoulder waiting for his other sibling to join the hug. But Techno never indulged through and only stayed where he stood, a cold unperturbed statue penetrating Tommy's heart.


Techno may not be one with physical affection but surely he would at least be part of this momentous period, right?


But that didn’t happen when Philza moved away from the hug, leaving the young blond in a more empty state.


Philza put his hat on his head, still looking at both of his children.


“We’ll come back as fast as we can.”


He stood next to Techno who was still an icy statue.


“We’ll wait for you,” Wil spoke, staring at Techno waiting for a response, but of course, none came.


“Or I’ll drag your asses back here so you better come back and fast.”


Tommy huffs still embarrassed that he cried, ignoring the empty dread as he waited for Techno to reply, yearning to at least hear his sibling speak before leaving.


And for god’s he finally did.


“We will.”


The only words he uttered while turning his back on them and leaving the house for the outside almost in a hurry.

What?

Strangely enough, the reply only gave him a sense of dissatisfaction and unrest. That's it? A hole grew more on his chest.


And it seems like it was the same for Wilbur who gave a confused yet unsatisfied expression.


“We love you.”


Phil soothingly spoke. Those sudden words almost made Tommy choke, red-faced ready to spit out big man words but the brunet beat him to it. That bald bastard.


“We love you too.”


He grinned at Tommy while transitioning smoothly with a loving smile towards Phil.


“Oh- and tell Techno we love him as well, and don’t let him forget.” He grinned like the true little shit he is.
If Tommy is unable to respond without dying against the words ‘I love you’ so is the piglin, but worse.


Their dad laughed, nodding “Oh- I well.”


He waved at them.


“Eat well and don’t fight too much while we’re away.”


Tommy falters being reminded once again they are leaving but he swallows it down and grins “Who said we’ll fight when Wilbur is pussy against the almighty TommyInnit?” The tall lanky teen looks at Tommy with a disgusted look.

“You are a child.”


“I AM NOT A CHILD DICKHEAD-”


Philza stared at them longingly, communicating without words he’ll miss this annoying banter of theirs.


He grabbed the doorknob ready to close it but not before looking back at them.


“Goodbye kids.”


Finally, the words he wishes to never hear have come. He forced a smile, holding his stance not wanting to fall pathetically onto the wooden floorboards. It’s freezing again.


A hand clasped against his shoulder as Wilbur leaned against him like a comforting presence.
His brother gave a more convincing smile.


“Bye dad, be safe with Techno.”


Phil gave one more soft expression, before closing the door leaving both of them in silence.


He stood there statically, gaze stuck onto the wooden door as if for some stupid reason- hoping in the smallest amount inside of him that they’ll come back with a change of mind. But the world was still, yet time has moved.


The pale boy stood there for who knows long but the world finally spun around slowly when a hand clutch his shoulder behind him.

“Toms…”

Wilbur murmurs softly, ushering him to the couch with his hand tangled to his tightly, scared to let go and lose him too.


The house was quiet, too quiet.


And it will be for how many days, months, or years to come.


They sat close to each other for heat, the musician holding him close in an effort to soothe his now fresh tears. A hand glides against his golden hair till the tears stop rolling, only leaving an exhausted kid.


He croaked.


“What now?”


His brother looked at him, expression mellow but exhausted as well. He forced a smile.


“What we always do but just...only us now.”


“That doesn’t sound appetizing at all, just like your cooking.”


Tommy scrunches his nose realizing.


“Great. I have to only eat your cooking from now on, fantastic.”


The brunet gasped out offended, but it was at least enough to quell the overbearing loneliness the boy had, even if it’s so little.


“Shut up, I’m the one who always cooks for this family next to Phil. Be goddamn thankful I didn't poison you when I have the chance you brat.”


The blue-eyed child laughed weakly trying to air jokes to stuff out the silence that reeked their home.


“At Least you are not Techno, that man can only boil potatoes late at night.”


The mention of Techno seemed to sore Wil’s expression, faltering the mood down like a sinking ship.


The atmosphere is once again mute. Tommy looked down at his lap, fiddling his fingers nervously at the shift.


“Are...are you angry at him?”


He whispered to Wilbur who snapped out of surprise, He shook his head quickly with a tight smile.


“No, no- I…”


The older man gazes at his side where Techno always sat, now empty as ever just like the hollowness that unnoticeably grew on them. Expression pinch and mouth turned into a wobbly smile “I’m a bit angry he didn’t say goodbye properly.” shrugging, he turned back to his small sibling “I’m kinda hurt by that.” He sheepishly murmured.
Tommy stared at their father’s now empty sofa, he leaned close to Wilbur's side clutching his legs to his chest securing what was left of them.


“Me too, he didn’t even try t-to at least talk to us before leaving for how long.”


He laid his head steadily against his brother's shoulder, “I just hope they stay safe, or I’ll get mad.”


Wil chuckled softly “Mad? As in- stomping around like the tiny gremlin you are?” The golden child scowl wanting to kick this audacity-fueled man “Be fucking thankful I’m tired or I will fuck you up, period.” The only reply he got was a light hum.


Both of them didn’t talk once again, but something warm glided the freezing air he earlier scorns. He stared at the sofa savoring the heat and presence he had next to him.


The tired kid whispered jokingly.


“He even bought his fucking hat too instead of us, I’m starting to wonder if that thing is Phil’s life force like a battery”
Wilbur laughed slightly loud making Tommy grin, sniffling, he wiped away a fake imaginary tear when smirking at Tommy.


“ Well, you know how dad is. He only took it off if it’s something sincere.” Halting for a second, he thought about what the sentence meant before shrugging it off while still gazing at the chair.


Fingers started to tremble, needles piercing into his skin-


Here it is again.


The bitter churning reminder the night of soft low voices and promises.


His arms around his legs significantly tightened burying his face onto his knees, trying really damn hard to get rid of the sense of betrayal, even though it’s unfair for Phil and Techno.

Wilbur noticed his distress in the form of fingers racking through his yellow strands extinguishing this undesirable feeling.


The boy exhaled out a shivering breath, a tarty grin melted into his expression but it broke into a thin dejected grimace.


“You know…” starting, still staring at the chair in front of them “When you and Tech fought really badly for the first time because of the voices… dad promised we’ll find a way. Together.” he closed his eyes tightly, burying his face further onto his knees.


“He broke it…”


Wilbur stared at him, tight-lipped and eyes darted subtly to his own lap thinking. Until his face became stalled to a clearing.


He looked back at Tommy, smiling “What about we make a new promise?” He asked, tilting his head with his pinky finger up to the blond, waiting.
Tommy snorted, finally turning to him with a raised eyebrow “What makes you think this promise will be kept?”


The brunet froze for a moment, but slowly and surely he breathed in, staring at his little brother. Face stern and determination shining through his chocolate brown eyes.


“You right, I don't know that. I don't know what the far future would hold. But it doesn't mean we can't make it.” Mouth curling into something gently sincere. Tommy’s suffocating chest started to loosen bit by bit.


“Promises don’t have to be kept. They are there to make us feel better.”


The blond gazes at the older man’s pinky finger. Thinking deeply. He locked his jaw for a moment. 

I don't know…

He looked down at his own hand.


But I’ll not fear that possibility.


He looked at Wilbur.


Because you're still here


He locked his pinky finger to his brother. The one who didn’t leave him.


And that's enough.

The sunlight glimpsed through his windows, flooding his blanket-covered body of golden hues spilling over to the floorboards. His eyes open lazily, groggily viewing at the ceiling with a yawning breath.

The boy's figure was warm on the cushy mattress giving him second thoughts to sleep once more and skip a day, but the blond falter remembering he had a lot of things to do.

So he got up reluctantly, ignoring how his body is whining to lay down so he can clean up his bed and exit out his room to do whatever the day brings in.

Tommy went out being greeted by his flock as always. He did his daily doings, Making coffee or tea for himself and breakfast for all of them to eat outside.

But something felt off and Tommy immediately noticed it.

While cutting fruits he realized how quiet the birds are, only whispering to each other as if they don't want the already suspecting child listening to what they are cawing about, even though Tommy doesn't fucking understand them even if they speak like an unhinged trumpet.

They also seem incredibly jumpy by hopping around the counter and looking away when Tommy's gaze meets theirs. It was anxiety-inducing for him even though he rejected the idea if he did something wrong.

He swiveled to Clementine who was right next to him at the counter. Clem’s wings seemed to spike up subtly but the blue-eyed child detected the sudden shift of character, he moved his hands warily questioning.


‘Is there something wrong?’


The bird frantically shook their head, cawing profusely almost in a panic. He raised his brow at them, not convinced but he kept his hands unmoving, not questioning any further despite the growing doubt that maybe, just maybe he did something wrong even though he doesn’t know what it is.

And the stressful atmosphere went on till they were all outside. The birds were finishing their meals at the table while Tommy decided to skip breakfast so he can water the plants earlier, and obviously not overthink things. He really hates how wired his mind is to this fear of not knowing what the hell is happening.

It's not the first time his skin would brew pungent due to the unknown. How his heart squeezes breathlessly leaving him awake at night, hoping whatever lurks in the background won't be as awful as he thinks.

War makes a person like that, make them instantly alarmed, minds blaring sirens for the tiniest, insignificant thing. He hates it, but it just...latch onto him, leaching of your self-confidence of hoping things go smooth sailing without overthinking things.

His grip around the watering canned tightened, he focused towards the colorful flowers beneath and around him, hoping to alleviate this withering agony smeared against his already aching head.

Something was there, staring and inspecting every little thing he does, whether he brushes his fingers against his neck collar or move his body around the field, he just can’t help but shiver silently in each step he takes- maybe it's just the crows being peering assholes again but there is something different about it. Something he can’t point out.

Clenching his jaw, he decided to venture out in the woods with some tools. The crows joined not really wanting to leave his side for some odd reason but he digressed. He didn’t do it just to find out what makes his skin prickle but to scavenge some wood, materials, and food to stock at the cabin for the next week.


It was exhilarating walking around the forest again, the large copious space filled with different types of greenery and light made his tightened chest lessen, Tommy’s stress was still there but it just lowered to a more stable state he can control.


The crows flew around him, flying to each branch in a lookout for anything to take and hunt, helping their fledgling anything they can, and said fledgling is silently grateful.
He bought his sign language book with him so when they took breaks the blond used that time to teach him and the birds a couple of signs.


Nature was his domain when he was a kid, he was so drawn to the beauty of creation. He never knew why but it always led him here, it was his safe place, his house of calm shielding him from the storm and even now it still stuck to him.


He remembers how he and Tubbo would run around the forest to play catch and hide-n-seek, challenging who would climb the tallest of trees till they could reach the sky while also picking weird stuff such as pebbles and even bugs because bug picking is very cool and manly.


Tommy can’t help but feel a small tug against his lips by the reminder of something that used to give him immense joy. He wonders how Tubbo and Ranboo are doing, he hopes they’re doing alright.


The energetic boy plucks some apples from a tree, shoving them in his inventory and whatever valuable items he can store before the cold sharp tip touches his foreboding heart once again.


Freezing, he whipped his head behind him with a narrowed gaze whilst the birds seemed instantly alarmed, but not in a way they would strike an enemy, no, like a child being caught with their hands inside a cookie jar.


Uneasy, he frowned, not sure if he should bolt home or just continue their hunt but he doesn’t wanna seem like a pussy so he chose the second option because he is very brave and people who say otherwise were a little bitch.


He whistled getting the bird’s attention to him, Clementine who's on one of the branches cawed loudly signaling to progress on.


Walking became a bit clunky after that, his steps were light descending further inside the forest trying his very best effort not to let his eyes blink around the place like goddamn headlights high on sugar, and it didn’t seem to get better when the birds around him we’re obviously alarmed, some of them were flying around Tommy looking like there ready to defend him from any sorts of danger albeit slightly scared.


Maybe they should go back home, this day doesn’t seem to be the best day for scavenging. He whistled once more, getting their attention. He brought his fingers and thumb together pressing it on the side of his cheek, signing.


‘Home.’ 


And that was enough for them to listen.

He thought things would calm down after going back home but the crows around him seemed more petrified than before, he was confused, hell, even a bit wary while slinking down on the living room couch with thoughts piling over and over from each other. Stacks of paper ready to fall down any moment.


Most of the birds were outside, leaving him with 5 birds who were the most suspicious out of all of them. Clementine, Bepis, Crownelis, Theodoreth, and Robert. They have huddled in a circular formation on the floor five-feet away from Tommy whispering to each other and quickly stealing glances at him.


The blond knew it was about him, look- Tommy is not easily hurt by being kept secrets from, but it was sure fucking tiring when it happens over and over again. He already experienced that countless times, to the point it was seen as normal for him back then- despite how obviously unhealthy it is and undermining knowing they don’t trust you enough.


He doesn’t want to interrogate the birds like some shitty- no- wait- the BEST bad cop to ever exist but prime, it was tempting as shit.


His hands gripped on his lap, composing himself. He should go outside again and just check the capitalist chest which was still there, yeah- maybe it would make him feel better. The crows flinched lightly when Tommy stood up and of course- it didn’t affect him, it didn’t affect him.


Clenching his fist, he closed the door behind him walking out ignoring how the birds tensed up at the teen’s presence who in return stubbornly ignored them just like the throbbing needle who came with it. The chest was there opened ajar due to the grains stuffing and overflowing over the case.


The crows really are too dedicated to this whole ‘seed-equal-stay' thing, a bit overkill but whatever makes these brats happy, and a huge bonus on having a lifetime supply of seeds. He attempted to empty out the container until he heard a snap just far away from him behind the outside fences to the colossal trees.

He froze, that's strange, well- not strange, strange but the sound felt too heavy for it to be from an animal or a normal size crow or even a mob, Like...a huge branch broke and fell from there supposed tree they're attached to. The boy forced himself to relax, convinced it was just some animal being animals, this is the forest after all. 

Until he heard another louder snap, plus- with the rustling of bushes. Wasting no time, he swiveled his head to where it came, it was far away but his ears picked it up similar to a disturbed owl ready to bolt.

Tommy isn’t panicking nor scared but he is alarmed to whatever the hell it is. His stance became wary, stern. Hands just seconds away on grabbing his pickaxe and fight, but all became too quiet for the kid and the already silent crows around him. Time stilled when he noticed a familiar stripe bucket hat and Large raven wings behind the bushes and trees.


He ran before he saw them clearly.

“What the hell is that thing?”

Tommy raised a brow at this weird-looking contraption he never saw once in his Big man life, his small hands pressed against the white and black buttons that are attached to a...black wooden case? He doesn’t know.

Wilbur leaned in a bit forward and chuckled.

“That ‘thing’ Tommy, is a piano.”

Breath, breath, breath, breath--

This isn’t good, this isn’t good why why why- no no stop this isn’t supposed to happen-

He slid down to the floor gasping, pathetically slumping and convulsing for any air to come, identical to a drowning man in a faraway sea, no boat nor land to save him from this misery.


Hands grasp onto his chest scratching and close-fisted for anything to pull out this bleeding heart.


inhaling in and out.


In and out.


A rough hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up to whoever chained him down. Black dots holding scrutiny.


“Nobody cares for you, Tommy. The only one who does is me.”


Dream crooned kneeling in front of the poor-ridden kid, acidic glee hidden under pity was swirling beneath that mask.


“Not even your family cares about you.”


He sobbed quietly wanting to cry out loud till someone out there can finally realize his drowning, finally realize his choking from the fact he can’t muster any bit of stupid fucking comfort for the life of him

Pathetic pathetic patheticpatheticpathetic-


He's trapped, he can’t go anywhere, he's scared to do anything, what will happen? what will he do now?


Pooling water fell down his cheeks uncontrollably- air stuck beneath his throat hot and searing, chest stumped down by something so heavy- he can’t take it off-


He whined brokenly wishing for anything for this to stop-


Phil stared down at him, gaze riddled with disappointment to the one who used to desire for their family to be together.


Why is he looking at him like that? Why is he looking at him like that?Whyishelookingathimlikethat?Whyishelookingathimlike that?-

“It’s about sending a message, Tommy…”

His ebony wings opened, flying to the gray smokey sky leaving where Tommy can never wish to reach anymore. He stared at the vanishing figure he used to hope every night to come back, but now he doesn’t know anymore.


What message?

…

He stared at the ceiling blankly, his chest leveling up and down sticky with his own sweat not noticing the birds inside the house huddled around him shushing a sad titter for the blond, desperately giving warmth to their mentally tired fledgling.


With closed eyes, he just longs for this to be a dream. A dream where he will wake up and continue on his comfortable routine but he knows it isn’t.


But the thoughts that matter the most kicked his brain, forcing him to confront reality.


Phil is here. He is here. How did he know, how did he find out?


He tried really hard to hide this place from the people he knows both good and bad. How did Phil find this place? What did he do to get the coordinates? Did he just fucking stumble upon a netherportal and whoops- here he is? The netherportal isn’t even close here, it took Tommy almost half a day to find that fucking portal.

Something lodges his throat again- shit- stop, he's done crying it’s too fucking exhausting. He just wants to sleep the entire week and never wake up again.


Didn’t you already miss that chance from exile?


“Caw…”  

The crows purred, handling Tommy’s anxiety better than he’ll ever do. Tommy opened his gaze thinking hard about the reason why Philza is here.


He knows so well Philza is a man of adventure who seeks faraway land but the land Tommy chose is nothing special at all, it was just a forest almost done with the autumn season, there is nothing to gain from here, caves are everywhere but it’s almost damn near impossible to find diamonds, dungeons and even fucking lava-


Is Philza here to threaten him? Hurt him? Bomb this place like his last home?


Nails dug against his palm at the last one.


He needs to come down, it’s not like Technoblade is here-


…


Fuck-


He froze, the biting air touching him, filling his veins with nothing more but the coldest of ice.


He started to breathe in and out again, panicked puffs of air, lungs sucking for anything to hold onto. The birds hurriedly purred more, easing the tension the blond had and it worked, enough for Tommy to get his middle ground fighting against his terror.


Still, he wishes above for anything else to happen than Technoblade coming here with Phil. He doesn’t need that, he never needs that.


But Phil is here, so it means Technoblade is just close- no, stop- don’t think about that, think of a plan to get ready, a plan if things don’t go well, fuck, this is stressful, This day was supposed to be a calm day but nOoOo- there is always something urging him to bang his head against the wooden floors.


Theodoreth hopped over to his chest, rubbed her beak against his now dry cheeks doing everything to calm the boy down, upset to see their baby bird terrified, they don’t blame him for this fear he holds.


Tommy slumped against the door more, exhaling softly, eyes hooded with tiredness. He embraced fervency using it to choose whatever common sense he’ll take, but the serenity instantly broke when light steps came in front of the door.


A knock came from the other side, the sound made his heart race like a drummer beating their instrument till it breaks.


Another knock came.


And another.


And another.


And another.


He gripped his head blocking it out, closing his eyes tightly like a stupid little kid hiding beneath something from the loud thundering storm. He trembles not knowing what to do, edging from between opening it or sitting here till the wing-hybrid is gone, the crows around him cawing gently.


He breathes in and out.


In and out.


He needs to get over this. It’s not like this is a new thing, Wilbur does this in pogtopia- always knocking on a non-existent door and coming in without his permission, this isn’t new, at least Phil isn’t coming in like a madman ready to spill insults and gaslit him, hurt him even. Yeah- he should get over this quickly, he's just being overdramati-


“You're doing it again.”


Puffy whispered to Tommy who rolled his eyes at her “Using what?” she sighs, putting down her book.


She leaned slightly in Tommy's direction, face mixed with concern and worry. The blond made the weird comfy feeling discreet with a grumble.


“You're excusing someone's actions because you experience it countless times, you’re downplaying how uncomfortable you are because you believe this isn’t as worse as before.”


His mouth thinned to a line, a jab came with her words unexpectedly.


“You need to remind yourself that if you are feeling something, then you have the right to feel it in any given situation. Don’t discard it, learn and grow from it.”


A heartbeat passed, his breathing became still, his suspense doubled down like a huge wave breaking flat. He took his time, to take the stillness and use every peace of mind he gets.


So he stood up shakily, a few birds hanging off from the trembling blond to warm him. He stared at the door, gaze burning the wood hoping for it to explode or just disappear, he pressed his hand against his chest, aiding his still-beating heart. It’s going to be okay.


A knock again.


“Hello? Is someone there?”


The voice of Phil never was this melodic but sharp on the boy’s ears. Similar to a bird singing in the morning light but bitter like an over-salted burnt dinner. He wanted to lean in to hear more but at the same time, he wanted to rip off his ears without remorse or regret.


“I don’t mean to pry but I saw some of my birds heading here, I’m quite surprised seeing most of them are here.”


The man chuckled behind the closed door.


The birds around Tommy seemed to lower their heads ashamed, Tommy doesn’t know why they seem ashamed but he hummed enough for only them to hear, he guessed it was the fact Phil followed them, but he will never fault them for this man’s action because he realized how inevitable it is.


He only wishes for whatever gods up there he has enough weapons if things go batshit wrong.


He doesn’t even have a durable sword, he swore he will leave a life of bloodshed behind and never look back.


He breathed in deeply, composing himself. He can do this, if Phil tries anything to hurt him and hell-even to the crows then he won’t hesitate to fight tooth and nail just for them.


He grabbed the doorknob with an anxious squeeze opening it with a sounding hesitant creak.


And finally- what felt for years. Young-blue eyes met old ones, and it seems as if Tommy instantly regretted opening his entrance.


Phil looked at him as if he saw a ghost, his mouth turning agape. He stared at him wide for how long, a shocked gaze pinching Tommy’s appearance.


“Wha- Tommy?...”


He only gave a small tired smile back, hiding beneath how fucking scared he is, but at the same moment, he felt a fit of resounding anger flickering between his ribcage realizing this is the first in a long time- Philza ever looked at him without any disappointment in his gaze.


He waved a hand, grinning.


‘Hey’

Chapter Text

Tommy doesn’t know what to feel.


Should he feel furious? Sad? Happy? Or just...something...?


He doesn’t know, he really doesn't. He’s floating above all these things he should know, it’s obvious he wants to scream right now, throw a tantrum while telling the world he is enraged by how cruel it is...


But he didn’t, he doesn’t know why. The only thing he wants to do right now is curl up in a ball so tight till he can’t think of anything else, shielding himself from all of the things he wishes to forget…


So many thoughts are scrambled, a hurricane in his mind piling down the buildings and structures he created for stability causing him to have this shitty devastation. His tongue-tied, his heart beating fast, sweat piling over him like some kind of new layer of gross skin.

He just felt...cold. A kind of cold where all is numb, his fingers tightening senselessly against the burning porcelain cup, his lips dry like sandpaper, his throat sealed up than it already is.


Everything was insensible to him leaving the blond dazed, fixated only at the searing teacup he was holding- trying his best just to ignore the man across the table who was looking around the house that made Tommy feel Tommy.


He felt so naked.


He snuck a glance at Phil inspecting his appearance, it’s been almost a year since he saw any people so don’t blame him when he can’t help but be a bit giddy, but at the same time dreadfully disappointed it has to be Philza of all people.


Philza looks the same the boy last saw on doomsday, just minus with all the bloodlusts of a vengeful immortal of war and no more lenses of an adult figure he should look up to. Phil seems focused around the living room, fixated on the interior, and even gazing out of the window to the small birdhouses with wonder and interest.


Sadly, he was almost proud.


The crows were with him, only a small portion who are the main five. All of them wanted to join Tommy, but unfortunately, the house couldn't fit hundreds of birds.


The living room was tight, too tight, almost wanting to leave him breathless. The corners of the room never made his skin crawl spiders before. He knows he is claustrophobic but he was so sure he made this place big and spacious so he won’t have to deal with his phobia.


Maybe it was the awkwardness? No one is talking right now, no one is uttering a word. Tommy can’t even speak but the long-drawn-out silence felt like his duty to babble incessantly to drown out the discomfort.


I mean, he is known to be the one leading conversations? Right? The one who says the first and last words? He is just a boy who never shuts up, it’s just too bad he's not that anymore.


He can’t help but be bitter on the inside once again.


“So…”


Phil drew out turning back to Tommy as if he was waiting for the blond to talk, his face curiously lenient but it was obvious he isn’t used to the silence, even more so when the stillness came from the usually loud child.

Tommy can’t help but almost flinch at the sudden attention, his heart started to pulsate so fastly hurting his ribcage. The blond’s breath halted not knowing what to do, only avoiding his calculated gaze.


“So this is where you’ve been, mate?”


Tommy’s lip tightened not knowing if he should say yes or no- or anything in particular.

Because what else is to say?


He hid this place, he erased traces of himself so no people could follow him, he made this home just for him and with the birds as well. Now it’s blown over leaving him to guess what he did wrong to deserve something like this.


“Tommy?”

Why does everything have to be hard when it comes to something he wishes to have? He can’t have the disks, he can’t have a home and now he can’t have this?


What did he do wrong for the universe to take everything he wanted even if it’s something so simple?


“We sometimes can’t have what we yearn to want, Tommy.”


Wilbur murmured wetly, holding his little brother blanketing him around his arms. Tommy sniffled upsettingly, leaning to his chest just to hide away from the world who had hurt them deeply.


All he wanted was Dad and Tech to come home for his birthday, to celebrate together again like they used to. Did something happen that enabled them to do so? Or did they just have something important to do?


Did he become unimportant?


Wil buried his face against Tommy’s golden locks, gaze closed tightly focusing on his small brother's presence...like it was the only thing he can do trying so hard to keep the walls down.

His hands cradled the back of his head, tenderly whispering.


“We just have to accept it.”


“Tommy?”


His gaze flickered at Philza, almost unfocused. The bird-hybrid seems concerned, making Tommy want to laugh when his vision finally adjusted. Concerned?- Where was his concern when he stabbed Wilbur and left him?

Where was his concern when his youngest got exiled?


Where was his concern when he blew up his home and fucked off?


Where was his concern when Tommy died just to be forgotten?


That man doesn’t deserve to give him worry when all he gave was pain. He learned how he can move on without them, he doesn’t need them anymore-


But he still wishes for them .

“Is-is there something wrong?”

Is he saying it because he cares? Or is he saying it because the bright blond is all strangely quiet? He doesn’t know.

Tommy sighs, too tired to do anything but stare blankly. The silence reigned again and it was obvious the elder blond seemed uncomfortable with it.


“Um, I saw what you did with this place, it's quite lovely.”


Phil chuckled, trying to appease the suffocating atmosphere, yet Tommy didn't answer, only nodding his head hesitantly not knowing what to do right now. Clementine flew to his shoulder catching the eyes of the immortal almost instantly.


Clem chirped softly towards Phil, acting some sort of a communicator for their fledgling which Tommy is thankful for.


Phil focused on what the bird was talking, leaving Tommy to speculate what the hell his companion was saying. His breath caves into a stop, anxious about what Clem is telling the man in front of him.


It reminds Tommy of a scene, where he was left out of a conversation that can threaten his whole entire life because of a simple phrase ‘The adults are talking’ yeah- right, his opinion and input will never matter to those who ever saw him as more than a child. And yet, you're allowed to hold a red-stained sword to a timeless battle.


It’s unfair to remember it when the current situation is nothing at all similar, but this is what he’s feeling, so he’ll let it continue a bit till it finally boils down to make more sense. But he was at ease because it’s Clementine. He has known this bird for a year now, and Tommy trusts them wholeheartedly.


As his bird companion stopped talking Phil turned to him with a nervous but still normal smile, his hands on his lap holding this tranquil aura that puts Tommy off. “So you did made this place.” Tommy’s mouth thinned, narrowing his eyes at the elder offended.


Did Phil seriously think he didn't build this place from the ground? Did this old man have little faith in him to make a basic living space? Okay, fuck calmness, he is pissed.


But of course, being the mature Big amazing man he is, he showed his disdain because fuck you that's why.


Clem seemed to notice the shift, perching close to Tommy hoping to ease their little bird of fury down. The winged-hybrid didn't notice the grimace and maybe it's the fact he isn’t really looking at Tommy at all.


“The architecture even looks great as well, didn't know you had it in you.”


Of course, you didn’t know, you were never there to even find out till now.


Tommy’s hand started to clench and unclench, not knowing if he should spite this old frail man or just leave karma to make the decision. But is karma even needed when he is already here?


He breathes out, almost in a disappointed breath catching the man's attention at the sudden wistful noise. He ignored Phil, turning back at his companion. His hands moved, hoping for the crow to translate it.


Does Phil even know how to sign? Eh whatever, not his problem.


‘Why are you here?’


Clem seemed to understand where Tommy was getting at and smoothly translated his sign to Philza.


Phil stared at him questionably, gaze stuck on his hands as if Tommy did something strange. Welp, maybe Philza doesn’t know sign language, big L moment.


“Well, ermm...” Philza coughed onto his fist clearing his throat, eyes still on Tommy trying to focus on the main question.
“I noticed my chat heading somewhere, so I followed them leading me here.” Tommy stared at him, looking like a side-eyeing dog. Tommy signed as Clem did their thing.


‘So you stalked them?’


Phil spluttered, shaking his head with a wide nervous grin “Of course not- I was curious, they were going somewhere I don't know- so I followed them.” The child is not convinced, this man right here is a dangerous stalker, he must call the FBI.


‘That's literally stalking.’


Phil huffed, “my ulterior motives are not that horrible.” the young blond pursed his lips really not convinced, he looked up at the clock seeing it's nighttime now, which means dinner time is near.


Ah shit, but the old man is here, he is too anxious to even leave him alone inside his own house. Should he ask Phil to leave? Or just ghost him out because he deserves that shit?
Tommy was conflicted until he just settled on just asking a question.


‘What now?’


Before the bird can even translate it- Phil snapped out of his observant sight, answering without a beat “Well, I was planning on exploring this place more, but it’s night time, you know where that goes.”


Oh, it seems like Phil does know English sign language. What a big surprise from the immortal who lived with years of knowledge, truly. He really wanted to roll his eyes at this very moment, at least things won’t be complicated anymore.


Till he was shot from a certain reminder of something, instantly bolting out of his chair surprising the old man and maybe subsequently giving him a heart attack in the process. 

Shit- he forgot to open the lights. He hoped no mobs had spawned, he literally didn't want the crows to be harmed by those shitheads for prime sake, he should really nail the reminder in his head.


He went to the storage room ignoring Phil who had stood up, just standing in the middle of the area almost awkwardly. Tommy took out a torch which was already lit up and went back to the living room.


“Where are you going?” Phil questioned while Tommy was putting on his boots.


‘Out.’


The man turned to the window, eyes sparking in recognition “You don't have to worry about Chat. I saw your little birdhouses have small doors in em’ so I believe they’ll be fine.“ Tommy headed to the door but not before turning back at him with an almost annoyed look.


He knows it's quite rude to be irritated towards a man who was reassuring you, but Tommy is just too tired to hold up the facade for a man who came in without notice.

‘It’s dinner time’


Not taking the moment to see his reaction, he turned outside feet landing against the cobblestone pavement fully-aware Philza was following behind him, still with curiosity and skepticism.


He went towards the back of his house, finding the hidden lever away from all the flowers and plants. Phil was holding onto his own torch gazing around the perimeter with wariness for any danger.


Meanwhile, Clem flew off to the skies alerting what time it was to their fellow crows- leaving him alone with Philza. He really wishes his companion would come back fast so he doesn’t have to deal with the elder in solitary.


It was quiet between them, the type where it was just plain uncomfortable- not knowing what to say nor do. Crickets can be heard and he can still hear the flapping of wings further around him, but it didn't drain out the dubious poison seeping into his already freezing skin.


It’s suffocating.


But then again, this isn't new.


“I- um, people are wondering where you were..”


Tommy halted his steps, not looking back at Philza before continuing his walk, wanting to block out whatever the hell was going on.


“Tubbo went to visit us, asking where you are. Some were even wondering if you're...dead.”


He noticed the man’s tone tightened, but not as much on how Tommy’s blood was boiling, whistling out like a tea kettle, his teeth started to grind harshly.


He's a bit antsy, scared by even thinking of Tubbo visiting the two people who had destroyed all they made, even more so when you visited the person who had killed you and saw you as nothing more than a government.


But his heart grew warm finding out Tubbo did all of it for Tommy like he always does. But warmth came with guilt.


He sometimes gets spurts of it while being reminded of the bee-loving boy.


He misses his randomness, he misses his smile, he misses his laugh- he misses a lot of him.


But he pushes back the regret of even thinking his decision on leaving is a mistake.


Because it was never a mistake to begin with, he wants to come back healed in his own choice, ready to face the world but with something different added to it than the dreadful black and white color smudging his once violence-filled life.


Because Tommy knows now he will never be the bright child he once was. Where he will not flinch at fireworks- where he will not wake up in the middle of the night drowning in nightmares- where he would still look at everyone he knows with full love and trust.


Wars had already stained his hands, cutting his skin deep till it stabbed his heart to bleed out, leaving him to hold his chest plugging out his loss.


His trauma will never disappear, it will never vanish into thin air. But he will let it heal, and that will start from him.


He just hopes when he comes back, he will be welcomed with open arms just like what Ranboo said.


They finally saw the lever attached behind the wooden walls, he wasted no time grabbing it hoping for the light to open, combating away the monsters from the dark, layering the forest with protection.


“They miss you.”


Hands froze at the switch, the world stopped as it happened all those years ago- Heart beating fast but so slow, so weird.


His breath hitched slightly.


And without anything else. He smiled wide.


Sour and warm.


Condescending yet unwarrantedly loved.


And you?

He flipped the switch open and in an instant. The forest lit up with warm light from here- up to the faraway distance spanning hundreds of yards he had traveled far and wide when staying here for so many months.


Philza was startled at this, not expecting so many torches and glowstone were hidden away, blinding him like Christmas lights. But it didn’t hurt his eyes, but instead, it sparkled with fascination- astonishment- looking around as his wings puffed due to being cut off guard at first.


“You know how to do redstone???”


The bucket-hat man was irked, making Tommy chuckle mutely.


Sam taught him how to do redstone when making the electricity for his big innit hotel, granted- Sam did all the work but the creeper will always give time to teach him the basics.


He hopes Sam is alright, he was like a dad to him.


He isn’t skilled like the creeper but bright lights and connecting shit were his specialties.


He flicked the torch out, his head turned upward a little seeing the now clear greenery. The upper trees adorned with warm light peeking inward and outward from the leaves pouring down to where they stood bathing them, imitating the sunlight Tommy adores every morning.


“How-how many days did this take you? It must’ve taken 5 months at least-”



Tommy shrugged, head finally tilting to Philza, eyebrows slightly pinched. Here it is again, the stiff unpleasantness came back. Well, it’s not like it left in the first place.


Tommy moved his hands but was abruptly stopped when a bunch of crows burled towards him at an immense speed that could combat a jet plane.


Tommy stumbled forward with a gasp- while jointly hearing a stressed yell from Philza who step forward to help him but Tommy doesn't need help because he has such a really cool way to balance himself, making him the reason why he is so fucking awesome.


Tommy gave small labored breaths pissed off at the birds who are perched on their sentient tree, he scowled at these small kickable children but stopped when hearing a snort in front of him, seeing Philza with a broken smile hidden beneath his fist blocking out his laughter.


It looks genuine.


“Mate- does that happen often?” Tommy scowled at him.


‘May I remind you these are your birds, birdman?’


He raised a brow at the child with an amusing huff  “Fair enough.” He still gazed around the lightened forest with a gentle hum.


“I never knew you were skilled with this kind of thing, color me impressed.”

Tommy’s throat dried disdainfully, eyes scrunching- turning away from the old man getting rid of this sickening puppy emotion. He doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like how his chest sparked a pleasant notion from Phil’s complement.

He walked forward, leaving Phil behind who in turn followed the blond back to the field of flowers not noticing the younger blond’s heavy conflict inside his own mind.


Now the lights are open, he can tell Phil off, finally leaving him alone…his jaw locked at the words.


“What's that?”


Tommy abruptly stopped, raising a brow at where the older man was pointing at, which was the chest overloaded with seeds.


‘Chest?’

“I can see that, I was wondering why it's out in the open, you do know birds are obsessed with seeds, they’ll definitely take them without your permission.” The boy huffed out a small silent chuckle, yeah, obsessed- obsessed on giving him more.

‘it's the opposite.’


“Opposite?” Philza murmured confused, the teenager shrugged, moving his hand boredly.


‘Capitalism.’


The bird-hybrid even looks more puzzled “Capitalism? You need to elaborate more-”


‘Taxes.’


Philza’s face turned blank, a kind of blank where the man’s mind started to piece this very complicated mystery altogether.


“Tommy...you do know they are literal birds, right?” The said child puffed out his cheeks angrily, stomping at the cobblestone path swiveling himself towards Phil, moving his hands like the fast and furious while not knowing what plot the fast and furious is.


‘I do not consent to be given their taxes, I am too awesome and handsome to do that.’


“I truly don't believe every word out of your mouth, dude.” Tommy is baffled at this man's idiocy, if he has his voice he will curse the living shit outta this elder.


‘You are so old- you don’t know what is true or false anymore, very sad. I will pray for your health and sickness to begone’


His hand stutters in each word he signs, still not used to how fast his hands can move without messing up but he still got the point across according to Phil’s raised brow and the increase of wrinkles on his forehead “You're still on with the old age joke?”


‘It is not a joke but a simple universal truth of the masses. Very sad you are the only one loss of this public knowledge’


“The joke is getting really stale now.”


‘Just like your frail old legs?’


Philza can’t suppress his wide amused grin “Shut. You little shit.” There it is again, that wretched emotion, that small pooling sweetness he thought of as a small child is climbing up. His mouth twitched.


Tommy should really stop talking to him right now, he can’t afford to yearn more for something he knows will hurt him a lot.

But it didn’t stop the nostalgia on missing that fucking phrase Philza often mused to them. The fond voice-only reserved to them, the soft sickening smile only reserved to them- He doesn’t want it, he doesn’t want this.

He doesn't need this.

So he turned away almost too fastly, too hastily. His expression burning of one who was trying to hide behind a blank facade, It seems Philza finally caught on. The winged man’s brows furrowed by the sudden change.


“Tommy?”

Tommy breathed, moving enough so his hands could be seen but his face hidden. He needs to go, he needs to get rid of Phil before all becomes unbearable again.


It was maddening.


‘You can go now.’


“I-” Philza stopped, his lips tight to a close. “I was planning to stay here just a bit more, just to check around the place you made, maybe you could give me a tour and such…” Tommy stared down at the grass fixated on it, no- don't stay here. You’ll make it hard again, you’ll make me hope again- please go away.


Please don’t leave me.


“But it seems like your hands are full right now...I’ll just...come back tomorrow…” Philza spoke gently. Tommy didn’t answer back, only nodding obscuring his face. The man sighs behind him not knowing how to make Tommy speak.


“Bye Tommy, I’ll see you soon.”


“Goodbye kids.”


Tommy closed his eyes, hearing the thundering clap of wings crushing the grass with great force of air, his blond strands slightly moving with the motion.


He didn’t open his eyes till everything is quiet, till everything doesn’t seem so tight anymore. He peeked through his eyelashes like a terrified child glimpsing beneath their bed to find any monsters underneath it, and when there is nothing but him and his companions in the midst of silence.


The tightness still suffices, and without realizing it- every step he moves was stumbling with static till his palms can reach the table in a hazy focus. He looked down at the counter, his fingers curling against his palms not caring how rough the board is beneath his fingernails.


He breathed in, noticing he was drowning without air when Philza left, it's funny- really, It’s always been like this since Philza came to The SMP, Tommy just realized it recently due to his blind devotion for a father that was never meant to happen anymore.


He is still attached to Phil despite all the fuckery they gave him, he doesn’t know what to genuinely think anymore.


You know...He once saw the world as black and white, there's the Heros and the villains. Good and bad. It was so easy to choose a side because it makes sense, good people deserve the world while bad people deserve nothing.
He luckily grew away from the phase when he started to see Techno’s view, Dream’s view, and even Wilbur’s view.


He never thought it would actually be part of relationships as well. Because sitting here on the table with his hands buried against his wet face.


He now really, truly realized he can’t purely hate his family, because he remembers the good memories and the bad ones. He held onto the good things in his mind while pushing away the bad ones because he can’t accept the fact his family is truly the grayest of the bunch.


He can’t accept the fact his family is unfixable, thinking everything will come to normal just by one shitty apology from each other.


A small soft caw came in front of him, a beak rubbing against his golden locks that feel so similar to how his family will play with his hair while the fire crackles through the cold air.


He rubbed away the tears gazing at the crows perched in front of him, he gave a broken smile, because what more can he do?


‘Want to help me cook dinner?’


The crows around him cawed gently yet happily, they perched onto him lightly, still rubbing their beaks on the young boy's face as he stood up.


He turned to the dark blue crystal sky.


Through the light he made.


Through the safe barrier, he carried here.

Fingers tap against the wooden bowl full of pancake batter, the quiet hiss of the stove permitted through the silent living room bathed by the morning sunlight. In the dismay of Tommy, he was surprisingly relaxed despite the anticipation for a winged man coming back to his barrow.

His red sweater hung off him comfortably, encasing him to the warm confines of its threads, his hair unkempt obviously left untouched when he had woken off from a panicking night. He…didn’t really have a good sleep, he kept becoming conscious every few hours due to the paranoia of someone just crashing in unalarmed- Someone staring and waiting for him to just- close his eyes to the darkness.


Eyes slightly heavy with eye bags, tired and slow. He sigh softly to himself putting the bowl down the counter as Clementine purred gently next to his shoulder. Right, he should just focus on what he’s doing now, not this- waiting stuff when he already knows Philza’s track record.


He froze, gazing outside the window in slow realization, he bit the inside of his cheek nose crinkling in distaste.


Well, it’s not like he was waiting in the first place.


He finished up breakfast with the birds, still planning on eating outside because it’s part of their everyday routine and not one unpleasant day will ruin it. He hummed a small familiar tune he once played on the piano, grabbing the plates of pancakes with ease.


The sun welcomed them outside, it still looked normal around, not a person in sight but them. The crows around him chitter softly. They've been like that since the last incident but they still act like little shits albeit more gentle.


The porcelain on his palm was kept snuggled between each sip. His mind was still in blisters, still guessing when and where Philza or anyone will appear at any moment, he really hates feeling like this once again. It’s unpleasant, it takes up his time just to panic on something unsuspecting and possibly dangerous for him and his home.


The bird's pipe to him, trying to get his attention as they push a plate of untouched pancakes towards him.


Tommy huffed but his growling stomach persisted him in listening to the birds. The unyielding paranoia is still there but it was pushed aside by the warm coo of the flock around him on safe ground.


He finished his pancakes before finally having the energy to water the flowers. He gripped the watering can gazing on the pattering drops of liquid dripping down the colorful petals as if it’s a comforting distraction, he wonders if he ever comes back to L’manberg it will be possible to make a commune of flowers similar to this.


But it will be a long time ahead to happen anyways, but still, it would be cool.


“I never thought gardening was your thing, Tommy.”


He flinched at the sudden voice that came out of nowhere, he looked behind already knowing who it was, but still, it’s rude to jump scare a minor who is in deep panic.
Tommy should be afraid- which he isn’t by the way, but a birdman surrounded by vibrant flowers with the softest of expressions kinda makes you forget he's a war maniac at times, still- he feels much heart attack like how you accidentally miss step one staircase going down time a hundred.


“You do gardening?” The old man smiles, his wings folding behind his back with a hum ‘Yeah? What is it to you?’ he shrugged, his rough hands brushing on one of the tulips with an interested gaze “ Seems unTommy-like, mate.” the young boy only rolled his eyes slightly insulted, putting down his watering can almost too hastily, his hands are shaking fuck-


‘You hear that? Sounds like discrimination.’ He shook his head ever so sadly, Phil sputtered at the wild conclusion this small child chalked up “Discrimination? Where did you get that conclusion?” Tommy’s face contorted into a very serious expression, one that held emotions beyond his mental capacity.


‘Since the day you walked into this earth, inflicting millions with your old people genes.’ Phil was aghast by the hard truth of the century, but it was betrayed by a fond cracking smile from the corners of his mouth “Aren’t you a bit hypocritical since you're being ageist?” The golden boy stared him straight in the eyes, like one of those animes.


‘So you're admitting you're old?’


“Why I-”


A laugh escaped the older man’s mouth, bright and...sincere. Tommy cannot help but notice his heart almost leap through his chest by how…long he hadn’t heard that darn laugh. He stood his ground trying his damn best to look as blank as a white canvas. But even though he felt the growing threads that were once tattered, he cannot forget how his hands are shaking, how his heart is hurting, how his mind is blaring-


“You're such a little shit.” He gasps, wiping away a tear “Why are you like this?” He knows it’s a joke, the way Phil said it seems lighthearted, a jest of all jest- but for some reason, it gripped Tommy to a purple hue, yet the young teen didn’t show distaste. He huffed.


‘Anyways, why are you here?’ Phil tilted his head “I told you, I want to look around. New land, new exploration.” He said as if it was the only answer Tommy needed to understand, he grinded his teeth in annoyance.


‘Than go.’


Phil seems startled at how the youngest just shooed him off as if this is the first. He cleared his throat fixing his hunched posture “Well, I would love to but…It seems like you knew the place around here better than me.” He shrugged, seemingly fixated on his surroundings. The elder still looked at fascination around Tommy’s home, to be fair, if he is in Philza’s place- he will definitely look astonished too.


But he was more focused on why Philza even needed him. It’s been long since he talked to Philza but he is so sure the old man likes wandering alone, discovering things on his own terms, and learning his way. Hell- he was known for that- he was known to go on lone adventures without anyone's help nor guide, It’s just…weird.


But the blond is apprehensive if he should even join Philza on his adventuring crap. He has nothing to hide anymore, maybe he should tell Philza to keep quiet about this place…


“Mate?” Tommy didn’t realize he was out-of-focused once again, it’s getting annoying honestly- maybe he should daydream more just to spite Phil because he's quirky like that.


“Tommy- are you- are you listening? you doing okay?”


Tommy opened his mouth until he stopped, fucking hell- he doesn’t have a voice anymore you goddamned iced tasteless bagel.


‘I am immaculate.’


Philza was confused, maybe he doesn’t understand big words from big men.


‘Immaculate?’


He nodded sternly, like a battle-aged soldier. Yeah, he should stall time, maybe it’ll annoy Phil, get him to leave and get milk for a very long time, haha dad jokes go brrr. Prime- is this what Puffy calls stress-coping? He should do it a lot. Phil appears to be incredibly concerned, It kinda pricks his heart abi- no.


‘Immaculately disturbed.’


If 911 exists, he will call them just to ask where his pocket knife is, the older man looks very tired and more concern by that, good “Do you even know what immaculate means?- you know what? Forget it.” he waved off, getting back to his calm and neutral demeanor.


“You still haven't answered the question, will you help me navigate around, mate?”


Tommy stood there, puzzled in both emotions and definitely choices. He should say no, he doesn't owe Philza anything and it's more beneficial for him because he doesn't have to- he doesn't- fuck. He wanted to badly to cover his face right now from the suddenly overwhelming thoughts of doubts that whisper. It's so easy- so, so easy to just say no-


But why is he hesitating? why is he hesitating for prime-fucking-sake? didn't he go through a character arch last two months ago? did his mind just rewind and undone all of those past lessons? he hates this- he hates himself.


He bit his lip, really wanting- ever so badly to crawl into a ball just away from everyone right now, even away from himself.


But the choices still echo through the dark ravine.


Yes or No?

Chapter Text

“I found out about something today.”

Puffy sat across from him, her attention only focused on the small kid inside her own therapy office in buzzing silence.


“What did you find out about Tommy?” The dulled teenager was fixated on his hands, pressing against one another in a sort of guidance through his words, he’s not one with opening up his emotions, it’s been weeks now since he started the whole therapy thing.


At first he was hesitant, Therapy? Nah- he’s Tommyinnit, he’s not weak, he's not ‘emotional’, at least he's not in exile anymore, no wars have been going on for a couple of months now. Nope- he's alright, he doesn’t need that shit.


Gray irises protruding on his stiff arms, he can still smell the blood off on his chipped fingernails.


“I found out the letters Wilbur sent to our da-Phil were full…of lies.” He didn't mean to let his voice crack in the end, it’s not like it hurts, nope it doesn’t, it really doesn’t.


“Can I ask how you found out about it?” The older woman asked more softly, making sure Tommy is allowed to say anything he wants, because prime knows this boy wasn’t allowed to do anything before when it comes to his own self.


His brows crinkled just like his nose ever so slightly, sweat started to appear behind his back. It’s hard to breathe.


“Ranboo told me…Phil- he…he told Ranboo all of those things.” His shoulders were weak, everything about him felt so weak right now. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s so lost. He doesn’t know what to think…


Puffy was silent, giving the boy breathing room and letting him say more when he opened his cracked lip once again “He lied about the election against Schlatt, he didn’t mention that he-we were exiled.” The warm air started to mists around his ever growing anxiety, flooding his senses with more thoughts- more feelings to hold even though it was so heavy-


“He wrote we won, he became president, and-and he gave the country peacefully just to make a-another country again- I-”


“Tommy.” a gentle hand was placed carefully on his shoulder “It’s okay, breathe carefully, it’s going to be alright.” It was silent again, only his ragged breathing can be heard through the wooden cabin. His eyes watered, but not enough for him to spill his own tears, because even now he cannot help but be ashamed by it.


“He lied…he fucking lied and I don’t know what to to-” “To feel about it?” Puffy finished his whispers. They didn't move from their current positions, from a captain aiding a barely legal adult and a child betrayed by one person he truly cared even more. His life is truly a comedy, his words and his turmoil are all punchlines, but instead of laughter only the echoing boos came.


“He left me to grieve on my own and he has the fucking audacity to leave without even …” He inhaled his shuddering tone “even admit his fucking lies before he…” How stupid he is, even in the final moments of his loved ones they will leave him with even more trusts issues and self-worth.


Even if he tries so hard to appease the people around him, to just trust him, to just -look at him, they will see him as nothing more but another foil for their hidden plans. It always blew up against his face.


And the worst part is, he doesn’t know if he was the problem, if he is the only reason why people treat him with such cold and placid stares. His fingers twitch with impending dread. His mouth biting his lips as if he is trying to stop himself from saying something that might destroy what he was trying so hard to keep, just to have that one last undoubting word he wished desperately true.


“You need to let it out, Tommy.” Puffy spoke through the fog “You need to say what you are thinking.” The boy wanted so much to just scoff at her words and tell her to fuck off, but he can’t, he was frozen beneath the weight of- of something he cannot put to words, maybe it’s chains. Shackling and biting his ankle to a harsh purple hue.


“I can’t.” His voice wavered, undeniably scared, cracks ripple through his tone, eyes peering through his wet glossy lashes stained with unshed tears “And whys that?” she soothingly held his hands, thumbs touching and rubbing gently against his knuckles. His throat bubbled.

“I’m…” he wanted desperately to just disappear “I’m scared…it might be true…” words whispered at the end, whisking away through the glacial wind on how frail it is.


“What might be true?”


He used to remember strings being played musically by his brother, still glowing and still so alive.


“Me.”


He remembers playing with him, piano keys pressing so gracefully on his used to be clean skin, away from painted scars.


“If I am the problem they- he became like this.”


Maybe it was truly his fault, if he just- tried harder- if he just stopped Wilbur on stirring to this path than maybe, just maybe…


His hands clenched into his red sweater, it reminds him so painfully of a yellow cloth he used to snuggle against for warm comfort.


“Am I the reason why he did these things? Am I just- just unreliable? Incompetent? I-immature?” He laughed dryly. Inhaling a plea, “Am I just that annoying?” Puffy stared at him, her gaze analyzing him, it should be intimidating- which it is but the way her brow creases upwards, the way her mouth is not a full on scowl but a small worried frown, and her eyes glaze with so much concern, so much empathy it just-


He wanted to hide from it all.


“Do you want my honest opinion?”


His blue irises were focused against the brown wooden floor, he smiled humorlessly trying to guess what Puffy would tell him, but either way, he nodded slowly.


Would she say it's his fault or not? Or some deep shit? Does it matter though?


“You're hard to be with sometimes.”


He froze.


“You’re sometimes hard to understand, and sometimes you are mean to those who might not deserve it.”


“You made bad choices, you don’t think before you do things.”


He wanted to laugh at that, to tell puffy she is wrong, but within him there is a brooding sense of truth in all her words, he was hurt but this- this isn’t new, his chest started to feel foggy again. This isn’t new.


“But you're a child.” And once again, he became motionless, before he could even argue, he was stopped “You’re 16 years old Tommy, a teenager who is still developing, who is still learning.”


“Of course you’ll mess things up but it doesn’t mean all of the things that happen to your brother are yours to bear.”


“You're a kid Tommy, you're supposed to be out there laughing, hanging out with your friends, and be- be you, and yet all your mistakes have to be punished unfairly because they saw you as an adult even though you're not.”


He felt a hand holding his cheek, so warm, so safe.


Yet so searingly painful.


“You're a kid, Tommy. You're not supposed to be carrying all of the blame and burden people put upon you, you're not supposed to be forced to make a choice against your own comfort.”


He finally gazed up at her, he was weak- he can’t say anything to refute that, he can’t say anything to argue her points because what else can he say? He wanted to move away, to just laugh it all to oblivion, but at the same time he wanted to lean in against the comforting contact he was deprived from for so fucking long.


“So it’s not my fault…?” He tried to crack a joking grin but it came off as timid.


She smiled small, “All of us made mistakes.” There was something beneath her tone he couldn't get, regret? Guilt? Mourning? He doesn’t know… “but it’s not your fault for Wilbur’s descent, it’s not your fault for being in the crossfire trying to save your home, and whatever happened in exile is never your fault.'' She was firmly buried, clearly displeased by the mention of exile but Tommy didn’t notice it, he was too fixated on her own words than her own expression.


He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, wanting to whisper Puffy's words mentally to himself over and over again.


To convince himself just this once…that this isn’t his fault…


“So please, stop trying to blame yourself with other people’s turmoil and downfall, cut yourself from it and learn.”


He can hear a sound so faint, strings strumming, piano keys pressing.


“Learn to prioritize yourself, because you need to learn how to love yourself again.”






It was static again.


His gaze stuck onto his own hands, exhausted and so incredibly hurt, He knows why he is hurt, he knows why his eyes felt wet- but his mind is combating all of it, saying, whispering he is wrong, he's not hurt, he's just being selfish.


He betrayed Techno afterall, therefore he betrayed Phil, he had hurt countless people and he didn’t even say a smidge of sorry to some of them. He is selfish, and he tells himself time and time again to repent by giving everything and anything he can manage, even if it's at the expense of what he needs wants.


Phil is still in front of him, with a kind smile, waiting patiently for his answer and Tommy can’t bring himself to reply, he was unsure, hell- he doesn’t want to acknowledge he was scared, he doesn’t even want to think of the fond nostalgia beneath his chest.


Yet the older man is still waiting, like a dangling string he wants to grab on and never let go- to never lose this chance. He was desperate, so sickly on wanting something positive from this relationship- he wants to know if he is still worthy- he wants to know so so much to just-


He felt a tug against his strand gently taking away the focusing limbo on his mind, he looked over seeing Clementine sitting on his shoulder, concern laced their expression, well, as much as a crow can muster.


And something…something just cracked within him, it was slow, it was fucking silent yet he can notice the fucking change making his mouth turn into a small broken frown, his eyebrows creasing slight upward, he breathed in and out again due to something alarming blooming on his chest and mind.


“1,  2,  3,  4,”

“4,  3,  2,  1...”

He turns back to Phil almost sluggishly, yet his stares are still contained against his own hands.

It hurts.


“As long as we're together on this. Promise?”

He stepped back, Phil noticed the apprehension on Tommy’s face as he finally stared at the older man. Eyes slanted, greyer than usual, Phil was confused on what is the usual…


“He broke it…”


He broke it.


And finally, he shook his head.


‘No’


I don’t owe you anything, He wanted to scream, yet you have the audacity to come back as if all of those bitterness, all of those fights and neglect doesn't exist.


You left me, you hurt me. I owe you nothing.

And what felt like a gust of wind that passed like a splashing wave against the two, the winged-hybrid froze, his smile still with it.


“What?”


Tommy slightly flinched, unintentionally hugging himself and backing off more being burned by one singular word, doubt reinforced itself on his mind more louder than ever but he stared back unwavering towards Phil.
The man in question was speechless, his gaze stuck onto Tommy and his smile still frozen in place as if what he had heard was unbelievable.


The teen shook his head once more, and that was enough to finally get a reaction out of Phil. His smile broke a bit but it was salvaged with a more disappointed tilt “Are you sure? It’s been long since we- we talked?” Tommy froze, he wanted to laugh so badly and he would’ve if he could.


So the old man knows? That there relationship is strained as fuck? Why now? Why all things that had happen why did Philza-fucking-minecraft reach out now?


Prime, he wanted to cry and laugh hysterically.


‘Does it matter?’


That sized up Philza, his wings raised about almost defensively but it didn't stop Tommy.

‘Does it matter if we ever talk at all?’


“Of course it matters, mate- you're my s-son.”


And that obvious crack finally- instantly shattered. His life is truly something to laugh at, mock with no end in time. His hands slowly went to his side as he still silently maintained his already rigged composure.


He tilted his head carefully.


‘That’s funny.’ Philza’s brows furrowed in offense “what-” ‘By the way.’ Tommy cut him off with a sharp gesture, firm and ordering to be listened to and looked by.


‘Don’t tell anyone I'm here.’


“Why though? I- people back at the SMP are wondering where you are, Tubbo is worried sick trying to find you Tommy!”


Tommy stood his ground, guilt and burning rage brewing inside. It’s unfair, its so fucking unfair. Back then he would’ve been so happy, so goddamn joyous as if the sun finally rose after thousands of years of blackout just because Philza referred to him as ‘son’ he would’ve listened to him without a single thought because people finally cared.


He would’ve given up anything or everything just to be told he was wanted. But now… 


“Tommy…you- you’re crying…”


Phil’s worried voice made him focus on himself, he hadn’t noticed tears started to fall down his cheeks, dripping slow.


Back then he would’ve wiped them off so fast people won’t see them, acting like nothing happened, because nothing had happened. He would bury it down, he would deflect his own emotions to the fire in shame, in embarrassment.


But instead of those things he will no doubt do, he is now out in the open in front of the man he loved and loathes, openly tearing up. His fingers grazed open his cheeks confirming he is crying.


He blankly stared at his hand covered thinly with his tears.


The older man finally moved, his hands reaching to Tommy wanting to wipe off his tears but the young blond flinched so violently Phil instinctively froze. Tommy’s face was full of fear, finally appearing like a scared and lost child he is.


Tommy’s gaze was full blown wide and the birds around them looked like they were ready to do some serious action against Philza. Clementine's wings heightened up defensively for the child, staring threateningly at Phil, the man might be their first favorite person but it does not change the fact they will fight beak and claw just to keep their fledgling safe.


The bird-hybrid’s heart broke a bit- he didn’t understand- 


“T-tommy, why did you…”  it’s been so long since he ever been lost on his own words “I wouldn't- I didn’t meant-” the young teen huffed a silent chuckle, he wiped the dampness of his cheeks, not having the energy to glance at Phil anymore…


‘You didn’t mean what?’


This is a waste of time, and he knows it, but he needed to know- even just a little if Phil is aware his actions had a devastated blow on him, he just wanted to- to let this all go, to stop wondering .


‘What did you do?’


Phil seemed to be perplexed, waiting for Tommy to tell him what he did, even though he doesn't recall what he did wrong. But his stomach churn so unpleasantly when the young blond’s face morphs into one painful heartbreak, a sudden realization striking through his dull gaze he didn't understand.


Tommy waited, waited for Phil to acknowledge he had and just hurt him, he was waiting, until the hybrid looked at him confused, as if Tommy should be the one bearing the answers instead of Phil- as if he should be the one knowing of Phil’s hurtful actions instead of the older man himself.


Tommy’s heartbreak slowly melted into bitterness once again, it tasted of dust and metallic gunpowder if he's gonna be honest. It truly is a waste of time.


He gave a placid smile.


‘Forget it, go back traveling and heed my words of not telling anyone.’ he turned around planning on heading inside his safe place “Wait- I still don’t understand!” Like a man trying to swim through quicksand, everything sure is cluttered and slow.


‘Than don’t.’


Because does it even matter anymore when you don’t even know how much you have given me hope but so much hell through my youth? It would’ve been obvious just by looking at doomsday, but even you are blinded by your own belief of sick justice.


“Tha-than can you atleast tell me why you left?” Phil stuttered, trying his very best to fix his disappointed posture, Tommy stared at him blankly, a face Phil isn’t used to from the normally energetic boy. The kid looked at him, battling with his own thoughts if he should even entertain the question.


‘To live.’


And the hybrid only stood there with a puzzled expression, until Tommy turned around and left with Clementine without any hesitation, leaving Phil to only stare wide-eyed against the disappearing figure.


The older man’s knees never felt this brittle before, yearning for him to kneel down against the cobblestone pavement and just- stare at the closed door in complete confusion and surprise.
He didn’t understand why Tommy was upset, did he do something to make him react that way? He will admit that killing Wilbur was the shittiest thing to do, but that was in the past now, even though he never got over it.


The caws around him snapped away his dazed thoughts, he took the time to look around one more time with a deep breath in, before flying away with so much baggage than before.