Random mcyt oneshots (mainly SBI)

Thundersnow

No TWs. Just young Tommy being scared of a storm and panicking.

Implications of L'Manberg being blown up and his death in prison though.

Thundersnow - also known as a winter thunderstorm or a thundersnowstorm, is an unusual kind of thunderstorm with snow falling as the primary precipitation instead of rain. It typically falls in regions of strong upward motion within the cold sector of an extratropical cyclone.

Basically it's a storm but instead of rain it's snow.

Of course its raining. Tommy thinks, walking around.
He likes the rain, but not when he's out in it wearing thin clothes.
He likes listening to the rain from the comfort of his home.

He used to hate thunder.
Of course he doesn't mind them now. He grew out of that phase. Well, he did until loud, sudden noises literally led to his death.
First, Wilbur. Caused no physical harm to Tommy, but a lot of mental harm.
Second, Dream.
If the TNT hadn't gone off, he wouldn't have been stuck in prison. If he hadn't been stuck in prison, he wouldn't have-

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang coming from what he thought for a split second, was the world ending, before realising it was just thunder. Which, in his opinion, was equally as bad, if not worse.

He paused and flinched, tensing up at the sound, before slowly taking another step.

Walking along the pathways, he slowly sped up, letting his mind wonder and remembering something which had always been at the back of his brain for over a decade; something he hadn't didn't think about much, but when he did, it gave him an odd feeling of comfort.

It was sometime during December, around 7pm. Philza and Techno were out doing something - although Tommy doesn't quite remember what exactly.

It was cold and dark and the snow was drifting around outside, falling to the ground in heavy quantities.
Wilbur sat with his feet up and a blanket around him on the seat that was 'specifically for him, and anyone else who sat on it would die a slow and painful death.'
He was playing something soft on the guitar, humming slightly and somehow reading at the same time by putting his book on the table next to him, and occasionally taking sips of hot chocolate.

Wilbur was good at multi-tasking. He could do more than three things at once sometimes. Tommy was to a certain extent. He could do about two before getting either bored with one, or letting his attention span only focus on one.
He didn't understand how Wilbur could do so many things at once. He almost admired him, even now for it.

Tommy was staring at the fire. The flames danced around, and he could almost see an old ballroom scene. Ladies in their poofy dresses, and men in their fancy suits. He could see the intricate designs of the castle walls, the windows, the stairs, every person's face, all the details on their dresses and suits, and the way their clothing moved around as they elegantly danced around the ballroom.

Everything at that moment was perfect.
The gentle noise from Wilbur and his guitar, the heavy snow hitting the windows, the crackling of the precious ballroom scene in front of him, the vintage pattern on the red rug he was sitting on, the smell of hot chocolate (which Tommy had downed, and Wilbur was occasionally taking sips off, like mentioned before) drifting around the room made it perfect.

Tommy had slowly started to close his eyes and let his mind wonder further than it already had.

Until a loud crack snapped him out of his thoughts.

Tommy audibly gasped, covering his mouth with his hand.

Tommy slowly started to calm down, until another loud crack hit his ears, this time followed by a bright light whipping across the sky.

His vision filled with panicked tears, but he continued to stare at the fire, this time watching the once elegant scene in front of him crumble and break before him.

The people started to scream in sync with the loud sounds outside the window, the windows being broken by the bright light, the floor being covered with the thick snow, the people drowning in the hot chocolate.

Suddenly he felt himself being lifted up.

Still in day-dreamland, Tommy thrashed about, trying to get out of the grip of whoever had picked him up - until he heard soft humming.

He relaxed and let himself be taken by his captor.

Tommy felt himself be sat down on someone's lap (still facing the fire) and being covered with a blanket, promptly being given a warm mug which held the familiar smell of chocolate.
All the while his 'captor' never stopped humming.

They began to sing gently, and rub circles into his back. Only then did he realise who it actually was.
He grabbed the blanket and held it tightly against him.

Wilbur moved his arms away everytime Tommy moved slightly, being careful not to frighten the poor boy even more than he already was.

Once he thought Tommy had calmed down slight, Wilbur carefully moved Tommy off of his lap and next to him, still not wanting to let him go.

Tommy made sure the blanket was covering both boys before leaning his head against Wilbur's side and falling back into day-dreamland.
He wasn't tired enough to actually fall asleep yet.

Wilbur picked his guitar back up and continued playing, much to Tommy's delight.

Tommy listened intently, despite not being fully aware of his surroundings, and daydreaming just as much before.

He thought back to the ballroom; to how it was before.

He thought back to the women in their poofy dresses, and the men in their fancy suits. He thought back to the intricate designs of the walls, and the windows. He thought back to the happy looks on everyone's faces, and the way their clothing moved as they elegantly danced around the ballroom.

He thought back to the dull red walls, he thought back to the dull orange floors, and the stars twinkling through the windows.
He thought back to the black banquet tables, and their bright red frilly decorations and table cloths.
He thought back to the dark red liquid in the tall thin glasses.

He barely acknowledged the loud sounds, and the white stripes against the window, but he would still flinch slightly and tense up, only to hear the soft humming and the sounds of the guitar, and to hear the crackling sound of the fire, and smell the hot chocolate which had now been taken from him and put on the side.

Tommy smiled at that memory. He still was a day-dreamer. Tommy flinched at the sound of the thunder getting closer, and fell over.

The person stretched out his hand and Tommy took it.
"Still scared of thunder, huh?" a familiar, distinct, British accent rang out. One he hated, but one that felt so familiar and comforting to him.

Maybe that's why he hated it. Because despite evething that had happened, Wilbur still comforted Tommy.

And that night was no different.
Wilbur took him home, and they drank hot chocolate, and did whatever they could to distract Tommy from the thunder.

He leant into Wilbur's side, who was playing the guitar
Tommy thought back to the ballroom scene. He looked up at Wilbur and smiled gently. Wilbur didn't notice, and quite frankly, Tommy was glad he didn't. He wouldn't have been able to live it down.

No, it was a smile that was just for him to acknowledge, and for Wilbur to have.

Even after years of arguing, fighting, and hating this man, he always managed to find comfort in his brother.