Tommyinnit Oneshots

Guilty Parties

Spoilers for Wilbur's recent lore stream.

TW: swearing

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The air was cold. Tommy forgot how cold it could get in the Arctic.

He shivered, hugging his bare arms to his chest. Why couldn't he have a nice, warm coat like Wilbur? Or a cape like Phil and Technoblade?

His sticks stayed gripped tight in his dry hands. He looked down at them to avoid looking at that door. 

God, why did he carry these sticks around anyway? It was such a stupid fucking bit.

He was about to put them away when the door he was stationed in front of creaked open. Light spilled out and warm air washed over him. Tommy sighed in relief.

He met the face of Wilbur. Wilbur, who looked pale. Wilbur, who looked regretful. Wilbur, who looked determined.

Tommy had caught bits and pieces of their conversation, words filtering through the wood, but he heard Phil's final statement clearly.

"Is there anybody right now that you're thinking of... that you've wronged in the past?"

Tommy didn't break eye contact with Wilbur. He willed him to understand. Please, see things as they are, for once in our lives.

From over Wilbur's shoulder, Tommy could see Phil staring at the brunet as well, the same message in their eyes: get out of your head and look at what's in front of you.

"Tommy."

"Wil."

Tommy's experiences had taught him that hope was pointless - it simply made the ending hurt worse. But he betrayed himself and allowed the smallest bit of hope into his heart.

"I... I need to go see Techno. Why don't you hang out with Phil?"

Like clockwork. Every time. That'll teach you, Tommy thought to himself with a grimace.

"You got it, Wilbur."

He stepped into the room lined with chests as Wilbur slipped past him into the snowy night. 

"Why do you let him do that?" Phil asked into the muted silence.

Tommy looked around the room, taking in the wood detailing, the vines hanging from the ceiling.

The pictures.

Wilbur hung noble and proud high on the opposite wall, wide smile and gleaming eyes staring down at Tommy.

On the right-hand wall, a piece of Tommy's face. Not his eyes, just his smiling mouth.

"The same reason you stick by Technoblade."

Phil peered at him. He didn't want to understand.

"C'mon, Phil. You may be the Crow, the bringer of Death, but even you don't support senseless violence. So why do you stick by Techno, when he gets lost in the Voices and covers up his thirst for blood with claims of anarchy?"

Phil looked away. "Because I can reel him in. I can keep him from falling too fast, going too far. I'm the voice of reason for him. And, because I care about him."

Tommy shrugged. "See? It's no different."

Phil opened his mouth to speak, something dangerously close to pity in his eyes, but closed it and nodded. "I see."

Tension settled over them like a stifling blanket, and Tommy found it getting hard to breathe under the heat and pressure.

Phil was the one to cut it.