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Tommy had gotten himself hurt. Again.
Wilbur ripped the arrow from Tommy’s arm, bandages in mouth as Tommy winced.
“Stop being a baby,” Wilbur huffed through the bandages, pulling out a small bottle of alcohol. He poured it on Tommy’s wound, running a rag over it roughly.
Tommy flinched back, biting his lip. Wilbur rolled his eyes, dropping the rag to get the needle and thread. He quickly poked it through the skin and began to stitch it up. With each prick, Tommy made a small wounded noise.
Wilbur glared. “Stop moving.”
The boy didn’t give any response aside from stilling. Wilbur didn’t notice the tears starting to brim at Tommy’s eyes.
Wilbur bit the floss, cutting it off before tying it. He pulled the bandages from his mouth, wrapping them tightly around Tommy’s arms. “There. See? You were being fussy over nothing.”
Tommy glared at the older, sniffling. The boy quickly turned the other way, whispering something under his breath.
“What was that?” Wilbur asked, short and pointed. The boy shook his head.
Wilbur grabbed Tommy’s shoulder, forcing him to turn around. “I asked you a question.”
Tommy looked back at him, eyes watery. “It was something to me. Not that you’d care.”
Wilbur gawked, gripping where Tommy’s injury was on his arm and pulling it up. “You really think I wouldn't waste my time patching you up if I didn’t care?!”
Tommy ripped his arm away. “You’re hurting me.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes with a groan. “No I’m not. You’re just being a baby. You never had a problem with me patching you up before we were revived!”
Tommy only gave him another angry expression before turning around and stomping off.
“You’ll be back!!!” Wilbur laughed.
Tommy didn’t even turn, just shouting. “Of course I will!”
Wilbur ignored the crack in Tommy’s voice.
Maybe in the past he would run after him. But Tommy’s been so stubborn after revival. Always overreacting at every little touch. Every hit from a zombie or a skeleton.
Wilbur rolled his shoulder, hearing it snap and pop before turning around and heading home. Tommy would be back in no time.
And of course, when Wilbur woke up the next morning, Tommy was right next to him.
As always.
-/-/-/-/-/-
It was Wilbur that was hurt this time. Well, physically hurt. Wilbur didn’t really mind all that much.
It was Tommy that made a big fuss about it. A creeper had exploded next to him, burning his sleeve off and leaving his skin bubbling.
“Wilbur!!!” Tommy screeched, rushing towards him.
Wilbur shrugged the boy off as he started trying to grab his arm. “I’m fine, Tommy. I’ll take care of it when we get back home.”
Tommy glared, shoving with all his tiny might to push him towards a fallen log. Wilbur’s lips quirked up at Tommy's frail arms attempting to push him.
Wilbur may be a lanky man, but Tommy was a twig in comparison.
Perhaps that should have concerned him.
He let Tommy set him down, pulling a first aid kit from his backpack.
Wilbur held his arm out, letting Tommy prop it up on his knee as he got to work. Wilbur stared off into the distance, not caring as the wound was cleaned.
He didn’t feel anything at all, anymore. Not really. The blast didn’t hurt. The water Tommy ran down the wound didn’t burn.
Nothing has really… caused him to feel something since he was revived. Despite having a heartbeat, it still felt dead.
Wilbur stared into the distance for a moment. Wilbur watched as Tommy used a rag to gently dap at the wound, cleaning off the blood with soft movements.
Wilbur squinted.
Why waste energy on being so gentle? To him, of all people?
Surely Tommy knew… Wilbur couldn’t feel any of it, anyway.
Wilbur felt his mind drift, frown forming on his face as he watched Tommy’s careful motions.
He used to feel all this.
He used to wake up when Tommy would crawl into the bed next to him. He used to feel all those wounds. Maybe it sounded crazy, but he missed it.
He missed the pain. The ability to feel his blood pumping. The slashing of his skin. The heat of the sun. The heat of Tommy.
Wilbur missed being able to feel Tommy’s gentle touches. He could watch the boy’s delicate fingers grace his worn body. All the scars and calluses built up and his nerves have disintegrated so he can’t feel Tommy’s gentle gestures as he wipes the burn cream over his arm.
He missed it.
Wilbur blinked, touching under his eye before pulling back and looking at his fingers.
They were wet.
Huh.
Wilbur wondered why Tommy wasted all this energy being gentle to someone who couldn’t even truly appreciate his grace.
Wilbur watched in near awe as the boy stared at the wound before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to it.
Wilbur used to do that. With each little cut and bandage, Wilbur would kiss it. Sometimes moving so his lips were on Tommy’s arm and blowing to make a loud trumpet sound. Little raspberries along his skin. It always made the boy forget his pain as he broke out into giggles.
When had he stopped?
He opened his mouth, apologies and grateful words trying to escape his lips.
But nothing would come out.
Instead, Tommy just packed up his bag and threw it back over his shoulder before gesturing for them to continue.
Wilbur wiped under his eyes again, ensuring there was nothing left before following.
-/-/-/-/-/-
They both got hurt, this time. Wilbur's injuries were far less deep compared to Tommy’s. He had a few slashes from a zombie with a sword. Meanwhile Tommy would need a few stitches.
Tommy had grabbed his hands, searching over his abdomen and arms for any wounds. Wilbur shoved the boy away.
“I’m fine, Toms. You first.”
Wilbur grabbed Tommy’s shoulders, forcing him to still. The boy tried to wiggle out, gripping his arms.
“No, let me check on you first. You always just— just ignore how hurt you are. It’s probably worse than you think—“
Wilbur gripped harder. “No. I said you first. I’m fine. I checked myself over and you need stitches.”
The boy’s face paled, a look of fear appearing on his face. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine. I don’t need—“
“ Sit. ”
Tommy obeyed, going quiet as they sat down on a small hill. Wilbur pulled Tommy’s arm up, inspecting the wound and grabbing the alcohol from his backpack. He sprinkled it on a rag, dragging it across the wound.
Tommy winced once more, the man pausing.
Tommy had never flinched away from him before like this. Did Tommy actually feel all this?
Wilbur looked back at what he was doing, lessening the pressure as he continued to wipe at the wound.
Tommy didn’t flinch, this time.
Wilbur took a breath, letting his motions turn softer. More calculated. Less careless.
He took some numbing cream, dabbing it around the edges of the wound and smoothing it along.
He didn’t take his eyes off the wound. In the corner of his eyes, however, he could see Tommy staring in curiosity and confusion. Maybe even a little doubt or suspicion.
Wilbur stitched slowly, precise movements pulling the skin back into place. Perhaps they had both gotten a little too careless with their bodies.
He let his thumb run against Tommy’s upper arm in soothing motions, humming a small tune. Not once did Tommy look away. Not once did he flinch or yelp or whine.
It was like before. It was suddenly back when Tommy would get a scrape on his knee. Before the SMP.
Just an older brother, too young to take care of a child, tending to his little brother’s needs.
Wilbur tied off the knot, bandaging it. He ensured it wasn’t too tight, blanketing Tommy’s wounds with practiced ease.
And just like that, it was done. Yet, Wilbur didn’t let go.
No. He simply stared at the bandaged wound, leaning forward. His lips pressed against the rough material before he pulled back, still staring at the white fabric.
“Tommy,” Wilbur spoke, the boy looking up at him. “Does this actually hurt?”
Tommy’s brows scrunched together, nose scrunching up in a way to show he was upset. “Of course it does?” he spit. “You think I’m faking it?”
Wilbur hummed, brows pinching. “I did.” Wilbur let his thumb run against Tommy’s skin, still not letting him go. “I don’t… Feel anything anymore, Toms. I don’t really feel pain. Everything is so dimmed and muddled in this revived body. I thought you were just… trying to look for attention, that’s all.”
Tommy used to be so loud. He used to always want the spotlight.
No. No, Tommy was the light. He shined the brightest and everyone else was blinded by him.
Wilbur was blinded by him, at times.
Now that Wilbur thought about it, he’d never seen the boy so quiet. So careful to avoid attention.
Tommy looked into his eyes, searching his face as he spoke. “I… feel the opposite. Everything’s so… loud now. All your touches burn. And—and the lights are all so bright. And everything’s just… over the top.”
Wilbur squeezed Tommy’s hand, vision growing blurry with tears.
Oh.
Tommy had never been so quiet in the past. Now he knew why. Why the boy was so scared of everything. Every bit of pain. He was like a deer. Every sound made him swivel and go into panic mode.
“Tommy, I— I’m sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry for being too much. For being too rough. I didn’t… I thought you were just— I’m sorry.”
Tommy frowned, linking their fingers together. Wilbur looked down, something sinking deeper into him. Like a rock, rolling down his intestines and weighing him down.
He couldn’t feel Tommy anymore.
“I can’t feel you, sunshine. I can’t feel your warmth anymore. I think… I think that hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt before.” Wilbur laughed humorlessly, wiping at his eyes.
Tommy reached one hand up, wiping them away. Tommy then grabbed Wilbur’s hand with both of his, putting as much pressure as he could with his tiny body.
“Can—can you feel that? The pressure?”
Wilbur chuckled again, nodding. “Yeah. I can… I can feel it when you press so hard. It doesn’t hurt it just… is there. It’s…” Wilbur choked. “It’s nice.”
Tommy shoved Wilbur’s hand away and tackled him in a hug. Wilbur let out a shocked sound, hands hovering over the boy before gently settling on top of him.
Tommy squeezed his middle as tight as he could, burying his head into Wilbur’s ribcage. Wilbur let out a small laugh as the breath was knocked out of him, hand settling lightly in Tommy’s hair.
The boy really needed a shower.
“Toms. I’m the one who hurt you. Why are you— you trying to—“
“Be quiet,” Tommy said, nuzzling closer. “You realize what you did, ya?”
Wilbur nodded, careful not to squeeze the boy too tightly. He wanted to. He wanted to bear hug the boy until he was absorbed. But that would hurt Tommy.
And he wasn't going to make that mistake again.
“Yeah, I think I did.”
Tommy dug his chin into Wilbur’s sternum, grinning up at him with that gremlin smile Wilbur had adored. “You were being self centered and annoying and not realizing that we don’t have the exact same experiences. Go ahead, say it.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna—“
“Say it!” Tommy flicked his forehead.
Wilbur’s smile wobbled. “I didn’t feel that, Tommy.”
“Do ya want me to punch you then?!” Tommy shouted, forming a fist and riding it in front of Wilbur’s face.
The man caught the punch, pushing Tommy away. “Fine, fine. I was being self centered. Happy?”
Tommy dusted off his hands, grinning once more before locking their fingers together. “Now let’s get going before another hoard shows up.”
Wilbur nodded, letting the boy pull him along. It hurt to think that all Wilbur needed to do was be a bit gentler.
Maybe Tommy was like a fossil. It took gentle brush strokes to fight away the dirt. Chopping away at the rock would only break him.
Wilbur could do that. He could be patient.
Later, they’d make a few new rules.
For one, whenever Tommy entered the bed after Wilbur was asleep, he’d jump on the man.
Tommy had questioned why Wilbur would want the boy to wake him up. But Wilbur just responded it was routine.
He missed it.
And so, that’s what Tommy did. Landing on top of the man before Wilbur would turn and tuck him into the place between himself and the wall.
A place Tommy was surrounded, safe, but not crushed.
They weren’t perfect. Far, far from it.
They had a lot of work to do. A lot of things to fix. A lot of apologies to come.
But they were always waiting for each other, when the other was ready.
They’d be okay.