The Disappearance of Tommy

Little Owl

"Tommy!" Wilbur cupped his hands around his mouth. He looked to Phil who looked over bushes and lifted tree branches up.

"Where could he have gone?"

"Wilbur, if we don't find him soon-"

"Well find him, just calm down..."

"Tommy! I'm sorry, come back please?!" Wilbur walked away from Phil as he screamed louder. Hoping to find any response from the little boy.

As Wilbur laid in bed that night, he looked at the ceiling with the small light the moon provided with a frown. He could heard and see the argument play out in his head, repeatedly. Wilbur could still see the boys red tail disappear behind the door frame as he ran off. Technoblade's confused glances and he could hear Phil fast foot steps along their wooden floor. He felt guilty.

Wilbur felt ashamed.

He got out of the bed and creaked the door open partly, peeking through he saw a lit candle that cascaded along the ceiling and walls. Phil sat on the couch, half asleep and facing the door. As if he was ready at any moment for Tommy to come through that door. Wilbur could imagine Phil's smile of relief as he held the little blonde boy in his arms.

"This is my fault." Wilbur whispered to himself and closed his door. He went to his window and slide it upwards slowly, as to not disturb anyone with its squeaking. Will climbed out and dropped down onto the dirt.

"Ow, fuck." Be brushed some grass and dirt off his knees and went around to the back of the house. In the back was a stack of logs, Wilbur grabbed the rope holding all of them neatly together and robbed the shelf clean. He picked the rotting axe along side it and dragged it over to the bench Phil had along the tree which led down to the path. He lit the lantern and started to get to work. On the working bench so was a range of wild tools, tools for shaving wood, and tools for sculpting, set of nails, one hammer, one paint brush, and large tin of paint.

"Okay...Tommy." Wilbur said allowed, not bothering to whisper now that he was outside.

"Let's see." He said as he grabbed the axe.

Phil woke up to the loud clambering of the back door.

"Tommy?" He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up from the couch. He glanced around the wall to see Wilbur instead.

"Wilbur? What the fuck are you doing?" He sat up and watched his son awkwardly shift a small Childrens sized bed frame into the kitchen.

"Where did you get that?"

"I made it."

"You made it?"

"Yeah. I made it." Wilbur dropped the end of the frame and closed the back door. Phil looked at the smoothed wood, there's were no poles pointing upwards at the end like everyone else's, but there was a solid frame for the headboard. Phil looked at the end of the bed. Sloppily painted in red was Tommy. Phil grazed his finger tips over the dried paint and looked at Wilbur.

"Yeah. I felt bad, so when he comes back he had a place to sleep."

"Where was it going to go?"

"My room, in the corner."

"That's...that's a good idea Will." Phil gripped his shoulder and smiled at his son.

"Well, whenever your done moving that let me know. I'll go cook up some breakfast and then we can go look for him, that okay?"

"Yeah."