Spoilers for Wilbur's recent lore stream.

TW: swearing

---

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.

"I suppose I should take my own advice, hm?" he said with a small, sad chuckle. "Why don't you sit down, Tommy?"

Tommy did, resting on the edge of the dark wooden seat. It was new, Tommy noted to himself.

Phil sighed heavily, rubbing his palms against each other as he stared at the floor.

"I have so much to apologize to you for, Tommy."

Oh, God. Tommy hadn't prepared for this conversation. He wasn't ready for this.

"I've been a terrible father to you all my life. I didn't want to accept it for a long time, but I understand now- or at least, I'm trying to."

The trauma response in Tommy urged him to object, to say it was partially his fault, to bargain the blame. He stopped it, for once.

"I should have been there for you and Wil. I wronged both of you countless times by leaving you on your own and thinking I could come back like nothing had happened. I wish I could have been there for you so you didn't feel like you had to run away, but I can't be more proud of how far you've come, despite all the hardships you've faced. I'm so, so, unspeakably sorry for everything that's happened to you since you left and I want you to know that it's not your fault. None of it was your fault. They'll try to manipulate you into thinking it was -God, just like I did when you were younger- but don't listen to them. And Tommy," Phil took in a shaky breath laced with tears, "I understand if you never want to see my face again, but I'm here to make up for lost time if you ever need me. I'm ready to be the father I failed to be before, if you'll have me. I'm not asking for your forgiveness, I know I don't deserve it, but I'm here for you if you'll have me. I promise I'll do better."

By the end of Phil's apology, Tommy was desperately wiping tears from his face, trying to be a big man. But, really, he was just a kid. He could lie to himself about a lot of things, but not about that.

"A father is all I ever wanted," Tommy whispered, and fell into Phil's arms.

The two collapsed onto the floor, Tommy's sobs muffled in Phil's shoulder, as the elder ran his fingers through blond locks and tried to muffle his own crying. 

"I'm here now," he whispered over and over again.

After a while, Tommy's sobs died down to sniffles. He lifted his head from Phil's shoulder, looking at the wet patch left behind. "Sorry," he choked out, already patchy face turning even more red from embarrassment. "It's all right, mate," Phil chuckled softly.

Tommy lifted his head to rest his chin on Phil's shoulder, not wanting to leave the embrace he'd dreamed about for years and years.

When he was younger, he would sit in the window of his childhood home, anxiously awaiting the day his father would come back and swing him in the air like he'd done before Phil and Technoblade started leaving on missions. But when Phil would finally come home, he would rush past Tommy, with not so much as even a hug. One time, the boy gathered the courage to ask Phil if he could swing him high in the air like he'd done when he was younger, and Phil just patted his head with faux sympathy and told him he was too heavy for that now.

It wasn't the same as being swung in the air like a little kid, but the feeling of his father's arms around him brought Tommy back to those days and to the feeling he'd been searching for forever. Finally, he was home.

"Do you remember when you were seven, and you asked if I would be home in time for Halloween?" Phil murmured into the silence, interrupting Tommy's thoughts. He nodded, not trusting his voice to not crack from emotion.

"I said I would, and I remember how excited your face was when I promised I would take you trick-or-treating."

Tommy remembered that day very well, and he remembered the disappointment he felt when October thirty-first rolled around. He spent the trick-or-treating hours in his ghost costume he'd worked so hard on waiting by the window for Phil to come home, just like he'd done every single day before that. He never did. It was one of the last times he'd been naïve enough to trust a promise from his father. 

Did Phil mean it now? Tommy wondered. Would Phil keep his promise this time?

He hoped so.

"I'm sorry I didn't come home that day. I'll never be able to replace those memories, but I was wondering..."

Tommy pulled back from the hug, looking Phil in the eyes. His father stroked his cheek gently.

"Do you want to try on some costumes?"

"Wha- Right now?" Tommy sputtered. Phil smiled bashfully. "I mean, I've got some zombie and pumpkin heads lying around..."

"Uh- sure," Tommy said, trying to wipe the smile off his face. It crept into his eyes, however, and Phil smiled back. 

He got up, rummaging around a chest for a moment before pulling out two heads. "Aha!"

One hand held a zombie head while the other held a carved pumpkin head. "Which one do you want, Toms?"

Tommy reached for the pumpkin, smiling down at it before slipping it onto his head.

"I can't see anything!" he laughed, trying to walk but bumping into things. Phil cackled somewhere to his right, and Tommy angled his head to be able to see his father with the head of a zombie. 

"You- you look so fuckin' stupid," Tommy said in hysterics, struggling to breathe. Phil knelt down with his hands on his knees he was laughing so hard.

Suddenly, Tommy had an idea. "Phil, do you have a trapdoor?" 

Phil threw one from his inventory on the ground next to Tommy, who situated it in the corner under Phil's curious gaze.

He got into position, making sure everything was in place before folding the door down. 

"I'M STUCK!" 

It was a stupid bit, but sent Phil into a laughing fit all the same. For a solid five minutes, the two couldn't get a single word out because of how hard they were laughing, and Tommy noticed that his cheeks and abs were sore from laughing and smiling so much. It was a feeling Tommy loved, yet hadn't felt in so long.

Eventually, their laughs turned into giggles here and there, and both titled the heads they were wearing up enough to slip a hand underneath and wipe their tears.

Just as Tommy was about to unfold the trapdoor, the other door burst open.

"Wha- What's going on?" Wilbur asked from the entrance, a smile of confusion on his face as he took in the sight before him.

"We're trying on costumes, Wil!" Phil said. Tommy, from the corner, shouted in a monotone voice, "I am very stuck."

Wilbur started his iconic giggles after that, laughing so hard he slapped his knee, and Tommy thought he couldn't possibly be happier than this. Some of his favorite people all in the same room and all laughing together.

But the bliss didn't last forever, and Tommy was brought back to the present when he heard Wilbur and Phil start talking about how Wilbur's apology to Technoblade had gone. Apparently, it had gone well.

"I don't know who I'll ask next, though," Wilbur mused, humming to himself. Phil not-so-subtly turned to look at Tommy, who felt vulnerable under their gazes. Phil looked right at him, like if he looked hard enough Wilbur would realize what the other two were thinking, but Wilbur's gaze was settled on Tommy as if he wasn't even there. As if he was part of the décor, something that just existed and wasn't worth serious consideration. Tommy wilted like a dying flower under that gaze, each and every time.

"Oh- oh, I know! I know who I need to apologize to next."

Yeah?" Phil asked hopefully, turning to Wilbur. This was it. 

"Who?" he prompted. 

"Tommy."

Tommy exhaled.

"Tommy, they're very far away and we need to go find them."

Just a tool. Just a part of the décor. Nothing worth considering.

"Yes, yes! Let's do it!" he said, scrambling after Wilbur. He spared a glimpse at Phil, who looked at him with tired eyes. Tommy realized this was the first time Phil was seeing his two sons interact while actually knowing what went on underneath the surface.

"You don't have to," Phil mouthed.

"Yes, I do," Tommy said to himself, looking away. They both knew he was right. 

"C'mon, Tommy. Phil, I'll see you around. Speak to you soon."