TW: sickness, pain, self-blame and guilt, pity
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AN: What's this? An actual update?? This was requested by harriestyIesgf a little while back. I hope you enjoy!
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Wilbur sat at his desk, his empty notebook splayed out in front of him and a pencil in his hand. He had been trying to write a new song for a couple hours now, and so far, he had nothing.The empty lines seemed to taunt him; the silence of his room screamed in his ears without music to fill it.
He pulled at his hair and let out a frustrated groan before slamming his notebook shut. He threw his pencil haphazardly across the room, not caring where it ended up. He leaned back in his chair, sighed, and dragged his hands down his face. He whined loudly and tried to ignore how much he wanted to bang his head against his desk.
He was startled out of his frustration when he heard glass shattering in the kitchen. Remembering what had happened to him a few weeks ago, he rushed towards the sound.
He met Techno at the end of the hallway. His twin looked just as concerned as he did. Wilbur bounded down the stairs, Techno hot on his trail.
As they were about to run through the living room to get to the kitchen, where the sound had come from, they almost ran into Phil. In his arms was Tommy, the boy pale and shaking and only half-conscious. Little whimpers of pain escaped his lips as he laid limply in his father's arms.
"What happened?" Techno asked, his usually monotone voice breaking with worry for his younger brother.
"Tommy drank a potion of yours, like the one Wilbur drank," Phil explained. He carried Tommy to one of the couches, laying the sweating blond out on the cushions. Tommy groaned loudly and curled in on himself.
"Oh." Wilbur could see the guilt in Techno's face. He stepped towards the piglin to give him a hug, but the pink-haired man turned sharply on his heel. Wilbur pretended to not notice the sobs starting to shake his shoulders or his poorly muffled cries as he darted up the stairs to his room.
Wilbur watched his twin go, sighing, before he sat down next to Tommy. He put a comforting hand on the trembling boy's shoulder; Tommy immediately wrapped his arms around him and pressed his head against his chest. Will half-smiled and rested his head on Tommy's, putting his arms around Tommy protectively. He shifted gently, so they were both laying down on the couch.
He looked up at Phil. "I thought you told Techno to stop making those."
"I did," Phil muttered, rolling his eyes at his oldest son's antics. He paused, his eyes pointing up the stairs, towards Techno's room before he finished, "Either he left it in the fridge even after what happened last time, or he went behind my back and did it again. I'm gonna-"
The blond laying on Wilbur groaned loudly, turning his head to blink up at Phil, and Phil shut up. Concern flooded his face. He padded over to the couch where Wilbur and Tommy laid and pressed a hand against Tommy's burning forehead.
"He definitely has a fever. Did your, uhm, transformation hurt?"
"Like a bitch," Wilbur whispered, realization dawning on his face. He stared at Tommy with sympathy on his face. He could feel Phil's eyes on him, pity radiating from him, but he wouldn't look at the older blond. The past was the past, and right now, they needed to focus on Tommy. "You okay, Toms?" he asked gently.
Tommy shook his head and let out a high-pitched whine, pressing his face against Will's chest once more, as if he could hide away from everything happening. Wilbur brushed a hand through his blond waves; Tommy leaned into the touch.
Phil sat down in the chair next to the couch and began nervously preening his feathers.
He kept looking between Tommy and Wilbur, but he didn't say a word, leaving an uncomfortable silence between the trio, only interrupted by Tommy's pained cries.
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