the mines were hard to breath in. it was dark, no matter how bright the torchlight was, and it was hot in a way that was suffocating. at least the heat made it different from the static coldness of pogtopia; tommy didn’t want to keep thinking about the familiarity of it in the middle of his job. the air floating around was the same though and he thinks he might develop lung problems when gets older, with the smoke and the ash and the dust. it reminds him of one of wilbur’s songs.
tommy mines for stone until his hands blister and the sweat seeps through his clothes. he mines until he fills up his vast array of chests with stacks upon stacks of the material. he mines until ranboo and tubbo stop him and force him to take a break. maybe he was doing it out of spite, maybe he just wanted wilbur need him again. tommy gingerly places his bandaged hands on his cheeks. whatever the reason he keeps mining, he didn’t need wilbur to be proud of him despite it all.
tommy meets big brother halfway. this was so he can remind both of them that he no longer wants to be just a right hand man. therapy taught him to try and like himself more and this was one way to do it, he thinks.
“set your boundaries,” puffy had said. even with people you loved and still love.
wilbur didn’t really need the stone he mined out. tommy wasn’t as surprised as he could’ve been, but the disappointment still weighs heavy in his stomach. he doesn’t trust wilbur anymore, but he still was wilbur. tommy’s hands twitch in a longing to reach for his older brother, yet they stay right by his sides as they should be.
when they reach las nevadas, he gazes in wonder at the tall buildings and the bright lights. but when tommy reaches out to hold quackity’s face in his hands, genuinely proud, wilbur drags him back by his collar. later, wilbur rubs behind his ears and through his hair apologetically. it only soothes the pain a little bit.
the two men argue. both of them want tommy to be on their side, opposite of each other. tommy just wants someone who can go through a whole sentence without lying. he chooses wilbur again, in the end. no one was surprised, but quackity was angry. and so was tommy, a little bit. he’s angry at himself. he thinks that maybe this is a setback, and he’s painfully aware he might be falling back into old habits. later, the thought of jumping crosses his mind again just for a brief moment before it gets shaken away.
wilbur leaves him at the edge of las nevadas. when he goes back to ask quackity for an enderchest, he does not reach out to try and hold the man’s face a second time. he sits in the rain on a bench and looks longingly at the shining lights of the city. his disc plays slowly in the background, the bright sounds floating in the patter of the rain. when he leaves, he leaves cold and alone.
wilbur doesn’t talk to tommy for a few days and tommy doesn’t go back to the mines. instead, he stays in snowchester with his family. it’s easy to forget everything that happened in the desert when it’s contrasted by warmth and love and happiness. he willingly throws himself into ranboo’s open arms and he holds tubbo’s face in his hands as he spends his days surrounded with fond eyes and sunny laughter.
in snowchester tommy smiles so hard it hurts. in snowchester he cheers encouragingly at michael trying to pronounce his own name. in snowchester they eat meals together and gossip like mean old ladies. he lets ranboo nervously groom his tail while tubbo laughs at his husband’s helpless face. he and tubbo play chess with their own made up rules. they harvest honey together from the bee dome as a family activity. tommy knits all of them matching sweaters that they wear so often that tommy has to fix them back up every month.
in snowchester, tommy is proud of his family. but in snowchester, things do fall apart.
wilbur knocks at the door of the mansion a week after the las nevadas incident. he’s met with varying degrees of emotions: from calculatedly unreadable, to cautiously friendly, to unsure and wary. the trio step closer to each other as wilbur soot strides into their home. michael hides behind ranboo’s legs, watching the new stranger.
“hey, wil. what are you doing here?” tommy asks, the hesitation in his voice ringing in the cool air rushing through the open door.
wilbur snorts at them, before waving his hand as if dismissing their reactions.
“don’t be so tense,” he says, “i was just here to visit the family, have a look around. lovely place you’ve got here. such a shame it’s so far out and so...”
he gives tommy a glance that sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine. tubbo instinctively reaches over to clutch at his hand.
“...cold,” wilbur smiles then coos at their intertwined fingers. tommy isn’t sure if he was mocking them or not, but tubbo’s grip tightened in a way that told him that his best friend wasn’t happy.
“how did you even find this place?” ranboo asks. wilbur’s smile turns strained as he turns his gaze towards the half-enderman.
“i was pointed at this general direction when i asked people where tommy was,” he replied, short and curt.
tommy bites his lip nervously. he wasn’t sure what to think of wilbur right now, but he knows if they stood here and talked more, one of them was going to get agitated and it won’t look pretty. so he shoots ranboo a look which the other teen somehow understood. ranboo nodded at him and gathered micheal into his arms before leaving to go to the playroom.
after watching them leave, tommy then turns to tubbo and gives him the most reassuring smile he can muster.
“i can handle this, tubs,” he says.
tubbo looked like he was about to argue before his shoulders slump and he tries his best to smile back at tommy.
“i trust you, big man,” tubbo admits weakly, then gives tommy’s hand one last reassuring squeeze.
“thanks, bee boy,” tommy whispers back, as tubbo turned his heel and walks back towards where his husband and son disappeared to.
there was a beat of silence before tommy turns back to look his older brother in the eye. wilbur smiles at him, this time a little more genuine.
“let’s take this to another room,” tommy says, ever the one to break the silence and take the first step.
wilbur shuts the door behind him and the wind stops abruptly. his smile grows a little wider.
“yes,” wilbur replies, “let’s.”
they walk the long hallways of the snowchester mansion in near silence. tommy doesn’t know what to say, so he keeps to himself a foot apart from wilbur. instead of conversation, he busies himself with running his hand on the varnished wood of intricately carved walls and staring up at the portraits of their family put up in homemade frames.
wilbur didn’t seem to mind, because after a minute or so he started whistling a funny little tune. and that’s all it takes for the silence to uncoil itself to something less tense. tommy finds himself relaxing with wilbur in a way he hadn’t had a chance to in a long time.
it wasn’t long before they reached a guest room in the wing opposite of their general living area. it wasn’t that tommy wanted to put distance between his family and wilbur, it was just that he wanted to be further away if this talk went less than ideal.
they enter the room and wilbur stalks forward to sit on the bed while tommy closes the door. when he faces wilbur, the other man taps on the comforter invitingly. tommy only hesitates for a moment before giving in and sitting next to his older brother. they lapse back into silence.
“so,” wilbur says after a while, “you’ve found yourself a new home,”
tommy nods and his head stays ducked down, “and what about it?”
“nothing, i’m just,” wilbur pauses before running his hand through his hair, “i’m proud of you, and what you’ve made,”
tommy smiles at wilbur and he finds himself surprised that it isn’t strained.
“thanks, i’m proud of it too,”
“and me? are you proud of me?”
tommy falters. he looks up to see wilbur staring at him intensely. he finds himself unable to break his gaze.
“i’m not sure what you mean,”
wilbur purses his lips, looking to be deep in thought. slowly, methodically, he takes tommy’s hands from the comforter and places them on his own cheeks.
“when i died—” he says and tommy’s breath hitches, “when i died you placed your hands on my face. and i’ve spent so long in the afterlife not knowing why,”
tommy looks away, but he doesn’t move to take his hands from where it rests on wilbur’s face, despite the slightly uncomfortable position, despite the stubble scratching on his skin. he doesn’t answer for a few beats, before his head slumps forward to move closer to wilbur.
when tommy speaks up again he whispers his answers like a confession, “i wasn’t proud of you dying, or blowing up l’manburg,”
wilbur looks confused, “then why?”
tommy looks up to meet wilbur’s gaze again and his own felt slightly wet with unshed tears.
“because despite it all, you’re still my big brother, and the best one i’ve ever had,” tommy’s voice shakes, “and because it was the last chance i had to do it, i wanted to you to know that i’ve always been proud of you for that,”
after his quiet admittance, wilbur’s eyes had a sheen of wetness to it to match tommy’s. his hands clutched tommy’s own, which was still grasping his face. he takes a big shuddery breath in.
“so why aren’t you proud of now that i’m back? why is the only time you’ve reached out to me right now, when i’ve basically made you do it myself?”
wilbur’s voice wasn’t demanding or accusing but it made something heavy rest in tommy’s chest. he makes a small noise of protest.
“it’s not that i’m no longer proud of you, wil,”
“so why not?” wilbur asks, his tone slightly edging on desperation.
“i’m just,” tommy bites his cheek, “i’m scared, wil. i’ve lost so much and i keep losing more,”
he holds his older brother’s face more firmly this time, “this is the one thing i don’t want to lose. and i-i know that when it comes down to it, if i have to choose between you and my family, i’d choose them,”
“that doesn’t mean i’m leaving you now though,” tommy continues before wilbur could say anything, “i’m not giving up on you that easily. if i can manage to deal with my horrible awful problems then so can you,”
he breaths out, “you just need, time. and help. and support,”
for the first time in their conversation, wilbur breaks his gaze first. he looks down at his lap, his hands over tommy’s now less assured in it’s hold. the bags under his eyes are more visible like this and suddenly he looked as tired as he felt. he bites his lip, unsure in a way that tommy only saw a handful of times in his life.
“i don’t want to lose you, toms,” he confesses.
“and you won’t,” tommy says, “you’re still my big brother,”
“i might cry,” wilbur smiles.
and it’s true. when he looks up, tommy’s face is red and his cheeks are wet from the tears flowing down from his watery blue eyes. wilbur lets out a distressed keen and reaches out to wipe tommy’s face with his thumbs. tommy laughs quietly.
“i still love you, wilby,”
wilbur’s resolve shatters, pausing his actions, and now they’re holding each other’s faces and crying together.
“i love you too toms,” he answers wetly.
“you’re still my big brother,” tommy repeats, “you just need a little help,
and tommy’s warm hands like sunshine on wilbur’s face feel more real. feel more like something he believes in.
wilbur gives tommy a grin, one that reaches his eyes despite the tear tracks on his cheeks, and the light glows through the window and shines in his hair.
“a little help is all i need,”
tommy meets big brother halfway. halfway is all that matters.
