DSMP/MCYT oneshots

Fuck This (SBI angst)

Fuck this. Wilbur couldn't take it. Tommy lay on the floor of their living room, his head on Philza's lap as he struggled to catch his breath, his lungs making his chest move up and down shallowly. Tears stained his red cheeks, matching the color of the blood that pooled under him from the arrow that stuck out of his chest, buried so deep in his chest that it had stabbed out of his back.

Philza and Techno both thought that it had struck Tommy's lungs, the reason why he was having such a hard time breathing. But Wilbur refused to believe it. Fuck that. It missed his lungs and Wilbur knew it. He was going to be fine. They were going to get the arrow out of his baby brother and he was going to be fine. He was going to be running around, clinging to Wilbur or Techno, annoying them both in a matter of time. His dad was wrong. Tommy was fine.

Wilbur refused to look at his adopted brother, the piglin hybrid sitting against the couch a few feet away as he dealt with his emotions in his own, deadpan way. Wilbur sat next to Tommy, holding his hand as he looked at only Tommy, his eyes unfocusing as he fantasized about Tommy's quick recovery.

Tommy's breath shuddered, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before snapping open again, his fingers gripping Wilbur's tighter. He looked like he was about to say something but Philza gently ran his fingers through Tommy's slightly tangled hair, whispering something to him that Wilbur didn't catch.

Tommy nodded, making a sound of pain and closing his eyes again.

Fuck this.

Wilbur gently let go of Tommy's hand. "I'm gonna go get him some water or something," he muttered to Phil, who nodded faintly, his gaze focused on his youngest son.

Wilbur stood up and forced himself to walk out of the room instead of sprint like he wanted to, heading into the kitchen which was just far enough away that he couldn't hear or see the others in the main room.

He clenched his fists as he leaned against the counter, resting his head on the cool stone. "He's fine, he's going to be fine," Wilbur hissed to himself, feeling close to a breakdown. He knew Tommy wasn't going to be fine. Nothing about this was fine. Nothing was going to be fine ever again.

Wilbur grabbed a glass from the cabinet, hovering over the sink while his mind drifted. He wanted Tommy to be ok. Oddly it was hard to pull back memories of when Tommy was his normal, if slightly annoying, self, even though he had been just fine that morning. It was like Wilbur was being forced to only remember this moment.

"Wilbur!" Someone called him but he didn't hear, too lost in thought.

"Wilbur!" They were getting more desperate now, but Wilbur tuned out the voice, his breathing shaky as he thought about his brother bleeding out in the living room.

"Please Wilbur, Tommy's-" Techno's usually calm and collected voice breaking like that finally snapped Wilbur out of his mind and his head shot up, the glass slipping out of his hand and falling into the sink, shattering when it landed, a shard of glass bouncing out of the sink and stabbing into Wilbur's hand.

"Fuck," Wilbur whispered in desperation, his mind torn between pulling the glass out and running to Tommy, his instincts fighting with instincts.

After a second of malfunctioning, Wilbur ran into the room as his fingers tried to grasp the bloody glass, ripping it out and dropping it to the floor as he skidded into the living room.

But the second he reached the room, he knew he was too late. Phil was almost bent in half as he hugged Tommy to his chest, his body visibly shaking. Techno hugged his knees to his chest, his long pink hair falling into his face as he looked down.

Wilbur fell to his knees next to Tommy and Phil, his breath catching in his throat. Was Tommy's chest moving? Was he still breathing? Wilbur stared at Tommy's chest, waiting for the tiny movement of Tommy's shallow breath, but it never came.

Phil hugged him tightly, Tommy's blue eyes still open and Wilbur could have sworn Tommy was looking at him.

"Can I-..." Wilbur said weakly, refusing to believe that Tommy wasn't there anymore.

Phil nodded wordlessly, moving to shift Tommy's torso into Wilbur's lap. Wilbur gently took him from his father, his brother feeling so limp in his hands that he cried out suddenly, pulling Tommy into his lap.

No, this wasn't real. Wilbur pulled Tommy's limp body against his chest, hugging him as tightly as he dared. He buried his face in Tommy's hair, waiting to feel Tommy's breath in his chest, waiting for Tommy to blink or move or tell Wilbur to get off of him.

But nothing happened. The only movement from Tommy was Wilbur's silent breathing as his chest made Tommy's look like it was moving up and down.

Until Wilbur started to cry, tears rolling down his cheeks into Tommy's hair.

Fuck this. They couldn't take him away. Wilbur knew his dad or Techno wouldn't try to take Tommy away from him for a while, but when they were going to, they couldn't. He wouldn't let them. They would have to pull him out of Wilbur's dead arms. Tommy was his. His baby brother. His favorite person in the entire world. They couldn't have him.

Fuck this. Wilbur wished he could die too, so he wouldn't have to be without Tommy.

Fuck this.