Chapter Text
" Tommy!" a cheery voice echoes across an open field. "Tommy, hurry up! " another voice calls out. I blearily open my eyes, sitting up and glancing around. "Need a little help there, mate?" A man says in a soft voice that's oh so familiar. I whirl around to meet the voice. A man in a striped hat smiles softly at my surprise. "I don't need your help," I say with a scoff but grab the outstretched hand anyway, grinning, as I do so. "Well, we shouldn't keep your brothers waiting now, should we?" he says, returning the grin. He pulls me up and signals for me to follow. "Techno and Wilbur, come here!" He says as he walks across the golden field, Seemingly walking faster with every step. "wait up!" I call out as the man gets further and further with each moment. "Wai-" I call out. But, I'm cut short as the ground comes rushing towards me.
I awake with a jolt. Already hating the way my head swirls with thoughts of the happy memory. "Stupid Dream,"
I mutter angrily. "Who's stupid?" a voice says as they poke their head through the entrance of my makeshift tent. "Good morning Dream," I say with a groan. "Good morning to you too," He says with a smile that's far too wide to be human,
what the fuck did George see in this guy?
I think as I crawl out of the tent. "Oh, you're up!" Wilbur says with a kind smile that reminds me of chilly fall evenings from long ago. Filled with the gentle strum of a guitar and hushed giggles. "Here, have some blue!" he says, shoving the blue dye in my hand. Ignoring the way the pained look on my face. And if he did notice anything he didn’t show it. I gingerly take the blue material shoving it into my pocket, adding on to the growing collection.
“Well, I’m going to go find more paper for a book! If you need me I’ll be over” he says pointing north. He doesn’t bother waiting for a response but instead waves and promptly floats away. "
You're looking a bit pale" Dream chirps from beside the tent. Startling me out of my thoughts. "What's it to you?" I retort back with a scoff walking past him. He doesn't respond back but instead silently follows. This is my life now, It's been about a month since I got exiled by the President of L’manburg. A week since I was given a compass that supposedly leads me back home,
back to Tubbo, my mind whispers unhelpfully.
And one day, since I've eaten any actual food,
It doesn't help that Dream has been depleting all food from the area.
I push the thoughts out of my head ignoring the way my heart winces at the thought of Tubbo. I instead go to grab an axe that I had made yesterday. “Oh, what’s this?” I whirl around in fear to see Dream holding up a compass. “Your Tubbo, oh how cute.” He says with a sickening coo as he reads the words engraved at the bottom.
Shit, shit, shit why didn’t I put that stupid thing away?
“Give that back,” I say, immediately reaching for the compass in his hand. “I swear teenagers and their tempers,” he says with a laugh as he sidesteps my advances with ease. I immediately spin around with a growl and lunge for him in a desperate attempt to get the compass back. Suddenly, my world is upside down and my head is slammed down into the hard, cold dirt. I let out a pitiful yelp before curling tightly curling around myself. For a brief few moments the air is only filled with “Are you sure you're Techno's brother?” Dream says peering above me, dangling the compass in front of me.
“That Pig is not my brother!” I say with a growl.
Of course, he isn’t, the great Technoblade would never settle for something like you.
Springing up from the floor and ignoring the steady pounding in my head. I lunge forward again. I’m met with a knee to the stomach. I cough out in pain as I crumple to the floor in a heap, gasping for air. “This is just sad, TommyInnit” Dream says twirling around the compass. “Look here I’ll give it back to you just cause I’m feeling nice today,” he says as he gently places the compass before me.
“I don’t want your pity.”
“Oh, I guess I’ll just take this back,” He says with a smile, his sharp teeth gleaming. “No, no, no, no I’ll take it back,” I say quickly, grabbing the compass and holding it close to my chest.A brief moment of silence follows until “God, TommyInnit you truly have fallen to a new low," "Everyone but me has left you, don’t you think I deserve a little more respect?” He says continuing. I choose not to respond. Instead, I focus on the cold grass beneath me. Maybe if I stare at the grass hard enough, Dream would leave me the hell alone. “Well I’ll be going now,” he says, turning around, “Unlike you, I have a life” he adds on. “Oh fuck off,” I say wincing as I try to stand up. But, by the time I’m up, he’s gone.
Almost as if he wasn’t there at all. Fucking cryptic” I mutter under my breath. I glance down at the compass. The red arrow quivers before me, mocking me, tempting me, to follow its lead. I had been overjoyed when I was first given the stupid thing. But now whenever I looked at it all I felt was anger.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid Tubbo.
I pushed the thoughts out of my head, wiping the tears from my eyes. Big guys don’t cry, I remind myself as I grab the axe. Big guys don’t need friends, I add on. “Let's make this bitch, the prettiest place ever,” I say with a grin focusing on the task at hand. I was going to make logstedshire the best goddamn looking place ever. Even if it killed me.
A stone sword slams against the wall where my head had previously been just seconds before, breaking into the nether brick.
SHIT SHIT SHIT THIS WAS A FUCKING TERRIBLE IDEA.
My mind screams at me. I hold up my shield to block another blow right as the stone sword comes down again. The wither skeleton’s eye sockets bore into mine as I struggle against the sword. The skeleton raises his sword again preparing for another blow. But not before I’m able to shove it against a wall, and sprint towards the exit. I narrowly dodged a fireball sent over by an angry Blaze as I pant in exhaustion.
I had gone to the fortress in hopes of finding golden apples and regen potions, but of course, because of my fantastic luck, I had to be caught in this mess.
My eyes brighten at the sight of the nether portal a few hundred meters away. I make a mad dash down the narrow cobblestone path. Suddenly, a fireball is sent fuming towards the path right ahead of me and I’m thrown back like a ragdoll.
And into the pile of Wither Skeletons, following closely behind.
The first sword scrapes against the side of my neck. I bite back a scream, as I drop down to sweep the skeleton off its feet and into the lava pool below. It feebly tries to regain its balance but tumbles off into a pool of death. I don’t get to see it fall, before another sword comes swinging down, this time squarely hitting my shoulder and digging into the tender flesh.
I let a blood-curdling scream as the blade sinks itself deeper. I grit my teeth in pain, as I kick out my leg to sweep the skeleton off me. It stumbles back from the force crashing against the others and they all go tumbling down,
But not before it’s bony hands grab at the edges of my shirt pulling me down
“YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” I scream as I scramble for the edge of the cobblestone path. I narrowly managed to grab onto the edge. I look down to see the skeleton clinging onto my shirt, but with a well-calculated kick, it goes tumbling down along with the rest of its companions.
I let out an exhale of relief as I shakily pulled myself back onto the path. I lay there panting from exhaustion as the pain slowly starts to come in, seeping into my bones. I turn my head, wincing at the cut on my neck, to check my shoulder. It’s not that deep, I’ll just get Niki to help me with bandages when I get back.
Oh right, she can’t help me.
I shakily stand up, my knees wobbling with exhaustion, as I limp towards the Nether portal. The moment I step out of the portal. I suck in gulps of the cool night air. My brief moment of peace is interrupted when my legs suddenly give out.
“Oh, shit,” I say with a nervous laugh, desperately trying to push myself up onto my knees and failing.
The Withering effect should be kicking in by now.
My mind reminds me. I feebly claw at the ground, my fingers digging into the soft grass below me attempting to distract myself from the pain. I let out another choked sob as another wave of pain came rushing towards me. In an attempt to regain some sort of dignity, I start crawling towards the tree a couple of feet away. It felt like hours had passed until my hand brushed against the wood. With shaking hands, I pull myself up against the tree exhaling with relief.
“Always remember to disinfect the wound as soon as possible,” says a kind voice not quite my own.
“I know Phil,” I say with a hiss, I’ve really gone and lost it, haven’t I? “What about a Phil?” Wilbur says popping out from behind a tree a few meters away. “Nothing, Wilbur” I mutter looking away. A few beats of silence follows as Wilbur’s eyes glance at my frazzled look. “Oh Notch, what happened to your shoulder!” He says rushing forward and kneeling at my eye level. And with the gentleness of a mother he slowly cups my face, eyes bore into mine as they check for any further injuries. I nearly sobbed at the contact.
It’s the furthest thing from comforting. His hands are pale and cold, his eyes aren’t their usual brown but instead a milky white, and there's a huge terrifying slash in the middle of his chest.
He doesn’t feel or look like Wilbur at all.
But, despite it all. I can’t help but lean into the touch. If I close my eyes hard enough I can pretend that instead of pale, cold hands I get something warm and familiar.
“Come on Tommy, let’s get you patched up,” he says softly. I begrudgingly stand up and let him slowly lead me towards the tent. I let him ramble about anything and everything as he disinfects the wound. In a strange way, it’s kind of nice. “And that’s why baby chicks are cuter than baby parrots,” he says as he wraps the final bandage around my arm. I mumble out a quiet thanks. Suddenly feeling exhausted, I curl up around myself. Tucking in my knees and pressing them into my chest as tight as possible.
A quiet hum fills the air as Wilbur puts the bandages back in the chest. It’s a song I have heard before, though I can’t remember if it’s his own.
“Oh wait, I got you something you might like!” Wilbur explains in excitement rushing out of the tent and to who now where. My mind slips in and out of consciousness as I struggle to keep my eyes open long enough for Wilbur to return. Despite the cool winter air, I feel strangely hot.
But I’m jolted out of my thoughts as I hear some movement right outside the tent. “I’m back!” Wilbur says as he bursts through the tent. I curiously eye the brown fabric in his hand pondering at what it could be. “I found this by a river the other day and cleaned it up for you since it’s getting kind of cold.” he chirps happily, shoving the material into my hands.
Leather
My mind echoes. “It’s your jacket,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Did alive me have it?” Wilbur asks, tilting his head in confusion. “It doesn’t really matter now does it?” he adds on with a chuckle.
It does.
I say to myself. “Do you not like it? I can take it back if you don’t” He says with a worried expression. All of a sudden I'm not sleepy anymore. It's instead, quickly being replaced by a growing anger.
“Yeah, I’ll take your pity jacket,” I say through gritted teeth gripping the fabric tightly in my hand. “No no, It’s not out of pity,” He says hurriedly. “Yeah sure whatever,” I say with a growl. We sit there facing each other, neither backing down.
“I’m going to bed” I say breaking the stare, crawling over to my sleeping bag, and shuffling in. “Oh, um goodnight Tommy,” he says as he awkwardly shuffles out of the tent. A quiet rustling can be heard from outside the tent but quickly stops after a few seconds, quickly being replaced by the steady hum of the wind.
I look down at the jacket still clenched in my fist, “Stupid fucking ghost” I mutter through gritted teeth. There’s no doubt it's Wilburs jacket I say to myself as I bring the article of clothing up to my face to examine it.
There’s a small tear on the left shoulder,
He never bothered to fix it no matter how many times I told him to.
A red smudge staining the right pocket,
It was so stupid of us to cram all the berries we found that day into our pockets.
And a rip on the collar.
That man is way too clumsy for his own good.
Ignoring the way my ears burn in shame, I stuff my face into the piece of fabric reveling in how soft it is. I can very faintly smell the scent of fresh-picked apples and oak wood.
He had the stomach of Ravager for those red suckers.
Something wet slides down my cheek. But, at this point, I don’t even care. Instead, I snuggle deeper into the jacket despite how hot it seems to have gotten. The wind outside howls harder as I feel my eyes start to flutter shut. My brain echos one last thing before I drift off.
Stupid fucking Wilbur, I fucking hate you.
please come back.