Tommyinnit Oneshots

Between gods and the abyss - The Painful Habit of Wanting

I accidentally posted part three instead of part two. This is part two. Part three is right after this!

Tommy wakes up in a warm bed. His body is aching, and he isn't sure why. Did he go on a strenuous hunt the previous day? Did he do a favor for any of the villagers in order to ensure they didn't see him as some sort of freeloading outsider? It couldn't be either of those things. He would have remembered if it was one of those things. Those were normal things he did on a frequent basis. He wouldn't have trouble remembering them, and those activities certainly wouldn't make his head as muddled as it was.

"Shhh, you should go back to sleep," A voice told him. That fact alone told him that he wasn't at his house. The only people in his house were himself and his pets that could not talk. He knew he should be freaking out about the fact that someone else was in his house, but they were pressing their fingers to his forehead. He hadn't felt affection in so long, and he didn't care what punishments followed it. He didn't care how one ounce of kindness always resulted in a gallon of pain. He was going to hold onto this.

Tommy's eyes fluttered open, but his vision was still blurry. He was looking at a brunette in a blue shirt. He thinks there are goggles on the man's head, and he might have brown eyes. Everything else blends together. Tommy doubts he would be able to recognize the person even if he had all the details.

The person looks at him. Tommy hears some shuffling around, and the fingers are now in his hair. They aren't yanking his hair. It's a gentle motion that goes through each strand of hair. Sometimes his scalp gets scratched. It isn't enough to make him bleed; it's just enough to make him comfortable. He finds himself relaxing against his will as this person comforts him, a foreign feeling that his heart latches onto like a poor person will hold a golden coin. "There we go. Let's keep dreaming sweet, little dreams, alright? We can deal with the world when the morning comes. For now, let's go back to sleep."

Tommy allows sleep to take him, listening to the kind brunette's words.

—

When he woke up again, the brunette who helped him sleep wasn't there with him anymore. A different man with brown hair was seated at his bedside, a guitar resting in their lap. Tommy is able to recognize the person as Wilbur, but he isn't sure what Wilbur is doing in his house... in his tree... in his cave...

Tommy winces as his brain shoves thousands of thoughts together like it's trying to help him form a coherent narrative on what was happening to him. His brain is not helping, though. He still feels like a cobbled together mess of broken pieces that were frozen and then immediately set on fire. It was a painful sensation, and a chugging brain was not easing the pain.

Wilbur's song was the thing that eased the pain. The soft melody paired with a serene voice brought tears to Tommy's even though he wasn't even sure what the song was about. He couldn't figure out what each word was, but he could hear sounds his brain was too tired to put a definition to. He eventually meets Wilbur's eyes. Wilbur smiles at him, his expression uncannily like the winged man's. Tommy doesn't know if the two are family somehow or he's so unused to kindness that he thinks it all looks the same. Whatever the case, Tommy attempts to smile back because he wants Wilbur to continue playing... he wants Wilbur to stay. He wants someone to, and Wilbur seems like a rather safe bet.

He doesn't even notice the twin masks of comedy and tragedy surrounded by music notes on Wilbur's backhand, marking him as the child of insanity.