Falling • OriginSMP TommyInnit

14 - I Can't Control

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if anyone in the discord server (youll know if youre in it) did yall feel weird reading this? i need to know for science- I know I feel weird writing it lmao 

Wilbur had just finished reading a poem he made to Tommy, the boy sitting and watching in awe. He had also sung a song he wrote for the Avian Class, smiling at the way Tommy's wings bounced and slightly flapped to the beat. 

"Wilbur, all of those are amazing!" Tommy exclaimed, eyes shining as he looked into Wilbur's own ones. The phantom boy was happy to hear this, thanking him with a dip of his head. "You wrote those for me?"

"Yeah, when you died, I started dedicating things to you." Wilbur said sheepishly, glad that the mention of Tommy's death didn't make the boy's happiness falter. "I guess you like it, then?"

"Like it? I fucking love it! That's the coolest thing!" Tommy jumped forwards from his sitting position on Wilbur's bed, his wings spreading to emphasize his words. Wilbur smiled wider, chuckling a bit. 

"I'm glad you like it," Wilbur reached forwards and flattened a feather on Tommy's wing, hearing the door creak open behind him. "Wha- oh, hi, Phil!" He turned his head, seeing the Elytrian. His smile fell at the expression Phil had. He didn't seem happy, or sad, just... disappointed. 

"Wilbur, we need to talk." Phil entered the room, taking a seat across from Wilbur on the floor. His wings opened and closed uncertainly, only making Wilbur worry more. The phantom glanced at Tommy, who was silent, his eyes on Phil and studying the body language through his wings.

"Oooookay...?" Wilbur raised an eyebrow. "About?"

"About Tommy." Phil sighed. Tommy stiffened, looking at Wilbur for a moment, then looking back to Phil. The eldest of the three, not knowing the youngest was there aswell, jumped into a gentle conversation, trying to lay it nicely.

"I'm worried for you. Schlatt told me you went around telling people he was still alive, and... Wil, you know he's not here anymore. Again, you watched us bury him, remember?" Phil had a broken expression on his face, watching Wilbur glance at Tommy with a confused expression. "And... It isn't- It's not healthy that you see him. He's gone, and your mind is trying to get you to cope with the stress. I... I have some medicine that'll help you, just- He's gone, okay?"

It was clear that Phil wasn't trying to be rude in any way, only wanting the best for Wilbur, but anger flared up in the boy nonetheless.

"He's right here, though! I don't get why you can't see him either, you just- he- it- he died, yes, but now he's back!" Wilbur looked dead into Tommy's eyes. "Tommy, pick up the- the pencil, anything!"

Tommy nodded, looking uncertain as he picked up one of Wilbur's poem papers. The one he had titled 'Of Frosted Flowers'. He looked strained trying to pick it up, as if it weighed a few tons.

"Wilbur- it- I can't." Tommy dropped the paper, which floated down effortlessly. "I can't pick it up when someone's watching."

"Why not? Are you okay?" Wilbur asked worriedly, standing up and starting towards the boy, taking his arm and looking. The boy seemed fine, taking his arm from Wilbur.

"I'm fine, I just- I don't know why he can't see me." Tommy whimpered. "It hurts."

"What hur- oh. I don't know why he can't see you, just- Hold on, okay?" Wilbur said in a low voice, knowing Phil could hear, but also not wanted him to hear, in a way. "Phil, I don't want pills. I know how this sounds, but I promise you I can see him. Tubbo heard him the other day, walking behind him. He thought it was me, but I hadn't moved."

"Mmm." Phil hummed, not knowing how to explain the situation further. Wishing Wilbur a good day, he left the room, going into his own room to think.

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Tommy POV

Nightfall

It was pitch back outside, the only light I could see being from Tubbo's treehouse, which was coincidentally where I wanted to go. My wings fluttered by my sides, the night air being so warm, yet I was so cold. I guess that's what death does to you. 

I didn't regret jumping, I only felt guilt because I made my friends sad. From everything I've heard, Wilbur shut the world out since I died, getting angry at everyone if they dared disturb him doing nothing. 

I climbed Tubbo's treehouse, clinging onto the wooden ladder. The air outside was humid, so I kept slipping and nearly falling all the way down. I scrambled inside, closing the trapdoor quietly and walking into Tubbo's room.

Tommy wasn't surprised when he noticed the room was messy, nothing put up correctly or neatly at all. Frowning, he wondered if this was because of him.

Soft snoring came from the bed, and Tommy immediately knew it was Tubbo. He saw the boy's fluffy brown hair poke out from the top of the blankets, and the soft rise and fall of the boy's sides as he breathed. Tommy smiled a bit, deciding he'd do Tubbo a favor.

A few minutes later...

If anyone ever asked me, I wouldn't ever admit that I used my ghosty-ness to clean Tubbo's room. I made sure to fold clothes and put them back, and I also cleaned up any kind of mess of twigs or leaves scattered all over the ground. I did have to clean up honey a few times, the sticky substance bothering me slightly.

Since I was dead, I didn't have the ability to sleep. So, instead I decided to draw.

Taking my notebook from Tubbo's dresser, I began to doodle me and him hunting for flowers, humming and smiling as I drew it. Just as I was finishing coloring it, I heard a voice right behind me. My eyes widened at the source, my blood freezing.

"Tommy?"