DSMP AU Oneshots (angst and comfort)

Grief -- Part 1 (SBI + Tubbo) (Angst)

TW// Grieving/mourning, mention of death, anger, general sadness I suppose

Third Person POV: No one in particular

Word Count: 1078

The wooden step was icy and slightly melted from where Tommy sat, out the front of Techno and Phil's joint houses in the Snow-biome. Hands covered in red, knitted gloves held up his chin, his elbows resting upon his knees.

"Tommy?" a gentle male voice called, drawing the blond boy out of his thoughts, staring at nothing but his disappearing footprints slowly being filled up with soft falling snow.

"Huh...? Oh, hi, Phil," he greeted glumly, shifting a little on the step to better take in the sight of his adopted father who awkwardly stood about, fiddling with the black, material belt tied around his waist holding his green and black robe together.

"What's got you out here like this, mate? You wanna come inside? Might catch a cold otherwise. I'll even make you some warm honey milk tea if you like?"

Tommy didn't want to intrude. Honestly, he had hoped he wouldn't be spotted, as he only came here to think in peace, not wanting to burden anyone. Guess that plan was about to go out the window.

Phil was a little concerned at the way his son quietly nodded, mumbled a 'thank you', and trudged past him to enter his fathers side of the house. He didn't even put up a fight or pretend he hated the way he was being treated like a child. Phil decided investigating was definitely a must, but should avoid being too pushy.

Inside, a fire had been going for a while now, drawing the young boy over to sit on the rug out the front of it. Not wanting to coddle Tommy, Phil decided to sit far enough behind him upon his rather worn out, brown reading-chair. Techno had a habit of calling this piece of furniture Phil's 'nest' at how often he could be found settled within the heavily patched-up seat.

"So..." Phil began, nervously tapping his black-painted fingernails together. He grew slightly mesmerised by the way the orange light glowed around the cross-legged boy, making the blond hair under an old, maroon beanie of Wilbur's almost golden: angelic-like. "What brings you all the way out here?"

Tommy pulled his red, oversized cardigan tighter around his skinny frame. He shrugged. "Dunno."

"Come on, mate, there must be some kind of reason. You never just come out here for the sake of it."

The old man hadn't meant to make his words sound curt, quickly throwing in a dry chuckle to take the edge off them. It was too late, however, as he watched his son exhale heavily and hang his head in shame.

"No, Dad, you're right. I need to work more on making non-dramatic visits like this. I'm sorry."

Not only was Tommy making no move to joke around, but was straight up admitting guilt that wasn't even necessary. Also, he had just called him 'Dad'.

Phil quietly grimaced and sucked warm air between his teeth. "Ah, no worries, Toms, don't beat yourself up like that. You're old enough to come see me for whatever you want to see me for."

"Alright. Still."

Phil cleared his throat, apprehensive about getting his son to open up. One wrong move and he could send him scurrying out the door, having to wait a while again for him to be trusted to this extent. "Son? How about you tell me what's on your mind, yeah? No need to bottle it up. Let's see if I can help you out."

Once more, Tommy sighed. This time, however, it was more out of relief than shame.

"Um..." His back was still turned to Phil, but the quiver in his voice led the man to determine Tommy was on the very edge of tears. Tommy brought his hands up to his hair, seeking comfort by combing his gloved fingers through the shaggy locks sticking out at the base of the beanie. "I don't know where to start..."

"Anywhere is fine," Phil encouraged. "Maybe start with a few summarising words about the biggest issue, then go from there."

Letting out a slight hum of agreement, Tommy launched in a deep-seated rant. "T-Tubbo...is still shutting me out. He said- He said he hadn't replaced me with Ranboo, but... He lied. Whether he meant it or not. We used to be best friends and now he won't even look at me. He is so distant, Phil. He stays within his house all the time. Doesn't care about me. I mean nothing to him. Maybe... Maybe I never did. I don't matter to him anymore." His breath caught in his throat by a sob which hadn't managed to pass undetected. "Dad...why is Tubbo mourning Ranboo more than he ever mourned me?"

Finally turning around, the tear-stained boy gazed helplessly over at his father. Phil's heart broke at his exhausted features, almost sagging with trauma in a way which should be impossible for anyone remotely close to his age. The old man felt guilty at the pitied expression painting his face, causing Tommy's own face to harden suddenly.

"St-Stop it! Don't look at me like that!" the boy shouted, clambering to his feet. Fists balled at his sides. The white streak of hair signifying his resurrection flopped heavily over his faded blue eyes, escaping the confines of his brother's beanie. Right now, the resemblance to his other son was rather striking.

Holding his hands up as if in surrender, Phil shook his head. "I'm sorry, Tommy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Come, sit back down. I'll- I'll fix you that honey tea I promised-"

"I don't want to sit down! I don't want your stupid tea! I don't want your advice! Coming here was a mistake."

With that, Tommy ran towards the door, ripped it open and rushed out - first the floorboard groaned at the heavy footfalls, then the small set of stairs creaked, before the crunching of snow could be heard, slowly growing fainter with distance. At the time it took any of this to happen, Phil slowly got to his feet from the chair, groaning as he stretched out his limbs and wings. Maybe Techno was right, he was becoming an old man.

"I'm coming, mate," Phil mumbled to himself.

As he stepped across to Techno's place for help, he saw the fresh footprints leading to the Nether Portal snake out to his right. He sighed, knocking on Techno's door. Even if Phil was no longer the right person, maybe Tommy's older brother still could be.

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