Tommyinnit Oneshots

A Heart Made of Melodies

Tommy rocked back and forth on the heels of his feet. People rushed all around him, no one paying much attention to the scrawny blonde. Not like he did anything to attract their attention. He was another bored or nervous child in the wings of the theatre, almost wrapped up in the one of the curtains that divided each entrance onto the stage. He was dressed in a formal suit like every other person. There was nothing particularly noteworthy or unique about him. He was just another plain face that wore the same outfit as everyone else with the same level of emotions as anyone else.

"Where the hell is he?" A nearby person said, passing the wooden floor while angrily typing away at his phone. He kept pressing it to his ear only to bring it back with a growling scowl. Tommy watched Wilbur, an upperclassman at his college that took Tommy into his friend group. Wilbur looked seconds away from throwing a fit, and it wasn't like Tommy blamed him. Tonight was a big night for Wilbur's brother, Techno, a violinist who was performing before a crowd of hundreds. Techno's accompanist still hadn't arrived, and he wasn't answering anyone's calls. Tommy would have been worried for the pianist, but he suspected that the man wouldn't show. The person Techno normally played with was at his grandmother's funeral, and the volunteer who said he would lend Techno his services was a jackass, in Tommy's esteemed vocabulary. No one listened to Tommy when he tried to warn them that the volunteer would flake on Techno. Now, Tommy was worried that Wilbur would set the guy's dorm on fire for ruining such a significant moment in Techno's career.

"Tech goes on in a minute, Wil. If that accompanist isn't here by then..." Phil said, coming closer. Phil was the head of the orchestra department and the twin boy's father. Phil's face was more saddened than angry like Wilbur was. Tommy looked over to where Techno had his eyes closed, holding his violin waiting at his side in his gentle hands. There was a certain calm confidence around him that Tommy couldn't help but admire. Even at the chance of his future falling apart because one guy was a jerk, Techno seemed ready to take on anything. He would never admit it, but Techno was part of Tommy's role models. Tommy would always be impressed by Phil and enjoy Wilbur's company, but Techno was the man he aspired to be.

"The show must go on," Techno muttered, walking out onto the stage as the announcer called out his assigned number, ranking, and what piece he would be performing. Wilbur dropped down into a squat with his hands covering his eyes. Phil's expression started to twitch around the edges like the anger was beginning to sink in. Tommy grabbed onto the edge of the curtain, his heart pounding in his chest. An idea formed into his mind that he didn't want to entertain. But seeing Techno all alone, under the spotlights with hundreds of eyes laid upon him, Tommy felt all his misgivings crumble away like a sped-up video of a rocky coastline becoming sandy beaches.

It had been years since Tommy last played on stage for an audience. He would occasionally play in the safety of his room with no one around to listen. He had sworn off that life. He promised himself that dark, raining night when he was but a mere child that he would never again suffer the hardships of a musician who had nothing else but his craft to perfect. Tommy never again wanted to feel analytical gazes on his back, picking apart his songs and actions. He didn't want to feel the enclosing walls of loneliness that trapped him when he was in a ballroom full of people with fake smiles and malicious intent. He didn't want to feel his emotions slip away from his grasp as his bruised fingers wrapped too tightly in bandages let the last drops of blood from his heart dry. Tommy hated the abuse he suffered from being a prodigy that never received love from people he didn't even like unless he wad absolutely perfect without a second of mistakes.

Tommy knew that his oath had been crumbling ever since he met the musically inclined Craft family at one of the world's most prestigious fine arts academies. Wilbur had the lulling voice of a seraphim, and his skill with the guitar wasn't comparable to any modern thing. Techno's classical violin abilities were able to paint pictures that composers of a bygone age had left for interpretation. Phil had the guiding hands of a conductor, the patience of a saint, and the memories to call upon in any situation that was built upon many experiences. Tommy allowed himself to befriend these people even when they were, in essence, the redeeming qualities of an otherwise horrible facet of life for Tommy. Even when he learned that Wilbur was close to get a real album published, that Phil worked at one of the best schools in all of Essempei, and that Techno was critically acclaimed for his moving pieces, Tommy let himself become part of the family dynamics. Tommy hated his parents for what they put him through. He didn't think he could ever hate the Crafts. Even if it was against everything Tommy stood for, he wasn't going to let the Crafts down. Techno wouldn't be standing alone.

Tommy walked onto the stage with deep breaths to settle his panic. He heard Wilbur call out his name behind him. Tommy didn't stop until he had reached the bench. Techno raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at Tommy, but he didn't make a fuss as he got into formal position. Tommy sat on the bench, pushing up the covering to show the pristine white and black keys before him. Tommy looked at the music sheet before him. He had never played the piece before, but he had heard Techno practicing with his normal accompanist before meaning that he wasn't going in completely blind. Tommy was sure he would still fumble. He hoped not badly enough to cause more harm than the good he was shooting for. Tommy just placed his hands where they were meant to go. Some of the spotlights turned off, leaving one on Techno's form. His shadow was casted over Tommy. The blonde was grateful for the darkness that way he could focus.

As soon as Techno started, Tommy's fingers flew into motion like a well-oiled machine. He let his awareness of the rest of the world slip away, his eyes trained on the sheet music while his fingers continued across the keys. Even though it was meant to be a sad piece, Tommy didn't feel much as he worked through line after line. The relationship between his emotions and music had a falling out when Tommy had sworn off the pianist's life. Once, Tommy would have thrown himself into whatever emotion he was meant to project, but a mental barrier had been built not long after he stepped away from the piano for the last time. Or, that's what Tommy wanted to believe, but something about playing again awoke the type of mourning the song was depicting. Each note brought him closer and closer to the traumatizing memories he had tried to bury away. Each diminuendo brought him back down to those low points were he was a sobbing wreck with little hopes for the future, no joy to account for, and bloodied fingers that were one bad day away from being irreparable. Any mistakes that Tommy made almost made more sense with the atmosphere he had helped create with Techno's more melancholic violin part. Tommy's sorrowful piano harmonized with Techno's song of tired resignation to create the epitome of the grief the song was trying to imitate. Tommy didn't know he began crying until his finger gently pushed down on the final note of the piano, the sound fading away a few seconds before Techno's last string stopped vibrating.

The crowd was on their feet with applause. Tommy's hands dropped to his sides as he watched his tears hit against the keys without enough force to make them play. Techno gave a graceful swooping bow that would make the noblemen of old sick with envy. Without Techno, the spotlight was now shining over Tommy. He supposed that he needed to bow to the audience as well, but his limbs felt heavy like he had been working out instead of playing a song on a piano. Tommy looked towards the crowd. It was dark enough that he couldn't distinguish faces but see outlines of figures. His mind supplied every thought coursing through their heads, and though he couldn't see their eyes, he felt the sharp gazes of the judges were they sat near the front row. Techno stood back up, the light of the spotlight disappearing. Tommy wiped away his tears, running his fingers along the tops the keys before he stood up on nearly shaking feet. Tommy walked to the backstage where Wilbur and Phil had wide, shocked eyes. Tubbo, Ranboo, Niki, and so many others that were supposed to be in the audience to support Techno were idly standing with eyes searching for something in Tommy.

As soon as they crossed in the shadows of the wings where the audience couldn't see, Techno grabbed Tommy by his shoulders, twisting the younger around so they stared eye to eye. "It's you, isn't it? Theseus... the greatest piano prodigy of his time who suddenly disappeared with no explanation?"

Tommy violently flinched at the name, nearly tripping over his feet to get away from Techno and that stupid title. Tommy hadn't come up with it. The public had given him the nickname. He wasn't sure where they got it from, but that was the name they used to torture him for all his younger years. That was a name that bore the curses of a pianist who had been too good at what he did. Tommy murdered Theseus the first chance he got. Tommy was Theseus' greatest hater online, and he avoided anyone who even vaguely remembered the name as an old pianist. Tommy kept himself away from that name like it was a dangerous animal waiting to pounce.

"Tommy?" Wilbur whispered, taking a step between the blonde and Techno. The shock had faded to leave behind genuine worry. Tommy knew that his reaction to the name was far too harsh to be seen as normal. He was proven right when Wilbur's arms opened. If Tommy hadn't just faced his cruelest memories in front of a judgmental crowd, he would have scoffed at Wilbur. Tonight, however, Tommy dove into Wilbur's arms, hoping that the brunette could somehow keep all the bad moments away. That wasn't how it worked, Tommy knew, but the comfort Wilbur willingly gave did its best to keep Tommy in the moment. That was all he could ask for. Wilbur held Tommy in a firm but loose grip in case the boy wanted to push away. "Let's go home, okay?"