Chapter Text
Wilbur had one secret.
The Craftes were not particularly a secretive family. Philza and Kristen had maintained a fairly open and honest household - it was not often (though, certainly not never) that either of the twins had hidden something from their parents. Even those small bits that slipped between the cracks, there was almost nothing that the two boys didn’t share at least between themselves. They knew one another inside and out, forward and backward, in this life or any other. There was almost nothing the two had kept from one another. Except this.
Wilbur had one secret: he was there, when his mother had died.
Technically, they had all been there. But it had been an odd hour of morning, and Technoblade and Phil had fallen asleep at a nearby visitor’s couch. Technoblade was curled into the curve of his father’s arm, despite being a bit too tall and Wilbur - ever the mama’s boy - had been laying at Kristen’s side, despite being too large. Wilbur wasn’t entirely sure what woke him - he was typically a heavy sleeper, but he’d just happened to wake up in the middle of the night. He’d blinked away his sleepiness, and laid his head on his mother’s chest. As he watched the moonlight filter through the windows, softly illuminating his father and brother, he’d felt a gentle touch on the top of his head. He’d looked up to find his mother with her hand laid gingerly atop his head, giving him a weak smile. He’s not sure how long he’d laid staring at her. But he’d never forget the look in her eyes when she’d passed. It wasn’t frightened or anything - wilbur took some semblance of peace in this - but there was something so distinctly her in her gaze that was there one moment and then, in the blink of an eye, gone. He supposed that phrase, the one about the eyes being the windows to the soul, had some amount of merit - he’d known before he felt her heart stop, before the chest his head laid on stopped its rises and falls, that his mother wasn’t here anymore.
He hadn’t cried, strangely enough, something that he’d think about for the months and years to come. Instead, he’d laid his head back down, closed his eyes; he’d awoken to the sounds of his brother’s cries, his father’s gentle hands moving him away from his mother - and he’d pretended not to know. He’d asked, despite already having his answer. And he’d never said a word, that he’d been awake. He’d never told another soul, not even Technoblade. He wasn’t entirely sure why ; perhaps it was in some part guilt that he’d been the only one awake, as if he’d stolen something he could never return.
This was to say, he knew what it was like to look a dying person in the eyes. And Tommy’s had the same distinct, weary look.
Wilbur had been scared when Tommy came to work with a sprained wrist. He’d been scared over the months as the kid seemed to weigh less and less, as he’d seemed to bruise easier, more frequently; as he’d gotten jumpier, more distant ; he’d been scared dropping him off that night, he’d been scared listening to Ranboo’s voicemail. He’d been really scared driving over to the reservoir, knowing it could really only be one thing.
Now, looking at Tommy? Wilbur wasn’t scared. He was terrified .
Tommy wasn’t talking - it’d taken quite a bit of coaxing, mostly through Ranboo, to even get him to glance over. And man, did he look bad. He looked like he’d gotten jumped - the thought that that might be a possible explanation did not leave Wilbur’s mind - and he was pressed hard into Ranboo’s side. Shaky hands gripped tightly onto a half eaten tupperware of mac and cheese. Ranboo sat next to him, an arm wrapped around Tommy’s shoulders. He too shook slightly, clearly terrified by the situation. Silence hung heavy in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.
Finally, Wilbur slowly reached a hand out into the car - an action both Technoblade and Ranboo started to move to stop - but when Tommy didn’t flinch, Wilbur slowly completed his hand’s arc to rest gently on top of Tommy’s blonde hair. No reaction, at first, before Tommy lifted his hand slowly to rest on top of Wilbur’s, gently keeping it there. Wilbur ran his fingers through Tommy’s hair, and he silently leaned into the touch.
He lifted his eyes to look at Wilbur, then to Techoblade. Technoblade stood by Wilbur’s side, searching for something in Tommy’s expression before leaning toward his brother.
“I’ll call dad back,” he whispered. Wilbur nodded, and Technoblade stepped away.
000
As fate would have it, it happened to be the one night Tubbo hadn’t put his phone on silent.
It could be fate, or simple negligence - he’d fallen asleep playing a game on his phone, his lamp still on ; let it be known he could stop whenever he wanted.
He’d woken to the sound of his ringtone blaring loudly into the stillness of his bedroom. A brief pang of anxiety flashed quickly through his chest before settling. It was the sort of thing Schlatt had a tendency to blow up over in the past, and though he was certainly doing much better these days, after all the AA’s and stuff, some of Tubbo simply hadn’t gotten the memo.
He fumbled for his phone, registering the darkness outside his window - who the hell was even calling, this late at night - and brought it to his ear without bothering to check who it was.
“Someone better be dying.” He said into his cellphone sleepily.
“Tubbo?” Ranboo’s voice sounded small, almost scared, and it woke Tubbo up immediately.
“Ranboo? What’s wrong?” Tubbo didn’t wait for an answer. He quickly rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes and got out of bed.
Ranboo was silent for a moment, and Tubbo’s anxiety only grew. “Ranboo?”
“Uh, sorry. I…don’t know….how…..how to…” Ranboo started nervously. Another beat of silence. “Can you come over?”
Tubbo blinked. “What?” he paused. “I mean, yes, of course, but what’s wrong?”
“Uh, Tommy - he’s here, for the night. I… found him at the reservoir. I didn’t know- I just felt like I needed to call you.”
Tubbo stopped mid reach for a shirt. “The reservoir? What do you mean?” He finally asked.
He knew what Ranboo meant. People not from Esempi, they came there to sightsee, but those born and raised here, like Tommy, or himself, they only went there for one thing. Tubbo would be lying if he said he hadn’t been up there himself. Still, he didn’t want to believe it, wanted Ranboo to just explain that he’d found Tommy doing some late night sightseeing and had decided upon an impromptu sleepover. Despite this wish, Ranboo continued anyway, confirming exactly what Tubbo hadn’t wanted to hear.
“I think he was trying to jump.”
Tubbo took a deep breath in, moving to put some clothes in a bag, some snacks, among a few other small items.
“And now he’s at my house, and, uh, the craftes know. My mom is, um, asleep, and I just - I need you, I don’t think I can handle this on my own.” Ranboo sounded choked.
Tubbo was already dressed, backpack swung over his shoulder, making his way down the hallway.
“Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”
He exchanged a few more reassurances before hanging up with the other boy and looking at the door in front of him. Nothing bad would happen, he was pretty sure, but again, old habits.
‘For Tommy,’ his brain supplied. He needed to get to Ranboo’s house. They both needed him. He took a few deep breaths and knocked on the door.
After a minute, Schlatt sleepily answered the door, looking at Tubbo with confusion. “ ‘Bo?”
“I need a ride.”
Schlatt blinked. “It’s like….2am.”
“It’s important. Will you give me a ride or not?”
If there was one thing Tubbo could use to his advantage, it was his father’s guilt. He didn’t like to, and didn’t quite understand it either; Schlatt had seemed to treat it all like letting Tubbo do whatever he wanted now made up for the years of abuse - gee, thanks dad - but in times like these Tubbo couldn’t deny it came in handy.
Schlatt sighed, grabbing his keys and closing the door to briefly change.
000
Philza crafte was angry.
He sat with his wife in the cold, washed out hospital room, with Kristen’s hand in an iron grip that was far more for himself than for her. Kristen herself was calm - too calm for someone who’d just been told she had less than a year to live. Too calm for someone who’d just decided to throw her life away. The doctor had begun to explain the next round of treatments when Kristen had held up a single hand, shook her head. She was done.
And Philza didn’t know who he was angry at. The doctor, maybe, for not somehow impossibly doing more already, at himself, for not pushing her to get checked out sooner; at Kristen, for giving up - and he didn’t want to think about it like that, what kind of husband was angry at his dying wife? But he was angry, livid even. His hand shook in hers, and he looked at her, searching for something in her eyes he didn’t quite find.
How could you , he’d wanted to say. You just want to leave? What about our kids? Our life? What about me?
But it wasn’t his choice. It never had been, never would be. And Kristen had always been the type to stick with her choices. It made her strong, reliable, two things Philza wishes he could be more often. But right now, he was a weak man. He stared at the wall, grief and anger wrestling violently in his chest. He thought about what life would be like without his love ; the cafe, the kids - god, what was he supposed to tell the kids -
She’d been gone faster than any of them had been prepared for, despite holding on for over a year after she was supposed to be gone - no, not supposed to be. Kristen was never supposed to be gone. She was supposed to be there, right by Phil’s side, like she’d promised in her vows. She’d broken that promise. Philza would never forgive her.
She’d passed in the night, hopefully peacefully in her sleep. He hadn’t cried, and to this day never had. He’d simply wordlessly pried the children away from her still form. Technoblade had been in hysterics, Wilbur oddly silent, and he hadn’t been sure what to do. It was a horrible, intricate dance he’d never learned the steps to.
So he did the only thing he could do: his best.
A person’s death, Philza had realized in the time following Kristen’s loss, was never something that only happened once. In the months and years to come, it seemed that every day was another small death. One day, he’d wake up and realize he didn’t remember how to make coffee the way she liked. Wilbur and Technoblade graduated, and only Philza was there to cheer. He found himself even recently, stacks of paperwork he didn’t know how to handle on his own taking up more and more space in his office. Every day, he lost her all over again.
Kristen’s loss left a hole in the lives and hearts of his family that he hadn’t known how to fill, if it was even possible. She’d always been better at the whole comfort thing, as mothers often are, and without her, they’d all danced around the growing chasm left in her wake. The decision to finally fill her spot at the cafe had been an incredibly difficult one; Philza was at this point accustomed to her many deaths, but hadn’t quite been ready to be the one holding the knife. But he couldn’t keep working his sons into the ground, even if they insisted upon it; they were nearing the end of their college days, and would most certainly have lives to get to, friends to make, dates to go on, and Phil could not stall forever. So they’d put up a poster, and it had brought them Tommy.
Tommy hadn’t filled the hole left in Kristen’s wake, Philza suspected that was not possible, but the addition of the younger boy had somehow done something else. He was like a bright sun in a world so thick with the fog of Philza’s mind that he had not even realized was there, and he saw the same effect mirrored in his sons; an unspoken weight on their shoulders finally eased, and not just in regards to the cafe. They were talking more, laughing more; they’d begun to finally eat dinners together again, him and his boys, and the suffocating silence was for once filled with laughter and the discussion of their days, and much of it was about Tommy. He said this, or he did that- yes, somehow, and Phil is sure the boy himself hadn’t a clue, Tommy had healed in some way a wound in his family that none of them had any idea how to close.
This, of course, came with its own set of challenges as it became increasingly more obvious that not everything with Tommy was alright. As Philza paced his kitchen in the present day, his phone pressed to his ear as Technoblade finally filled him in on he and Wilbur’s sudden midnight departure, he mentally berated himself for not doing something, anything sooner. He was supposed to be the adult, a father, a protector . He’d failed at them all for a long time.
”I think Ranboo’s taking him to his place.” Technoblade said shakily into the phone.
“Don’t you think it’d be better to bring him here?” Philza responded. He had no idea, personally, if that would be a good idea at all, but it’d be best to keep him by a trusted adult, right? Was he a trusted adult? Did Tommy trust anyone ?
He ran a hand over his face. Again, he was faced with another dance he’d never rehearsed. Or perhaps he had; the thought terrified him, that he could so quickly lose the family he’d gained, all over again. Again, and again, and again . He couldn’t handle this.
Technoblade sighed on the other line. “That’s what Wilbur and I thought, but he’s grabbing Ranboo pretty hard and won’t leave his car. Ranboo doesn’t really want to let him go either, I think.”
That made sense, Philza mused. “Does his mother know? Ranboo’s, I mean.”
”Ranboo says she’s asleep but that he sent her a message. He seems pretty confident she won’t mind.”
”Okay.” Philza sat in silence for a moment, pondering. He couldn’t just…do nothing, right? He couldn’t just go back to bed like nothing had happened. But what was he intended to do?
”Okay,” Philza said again after a moment. “You two get back home. I’ll make some calls in the morning, figure out what to do.”
“ Mhm .” Technoblade hummed reluctantly. A couple voices spoke softly in the background and Technoblade moved the phone away from his face before bringing it back up. “Wilbur says he’s gonna leave his phone with Toms for the night. I guess his uncle busted his.”
Well that would explain all the missed calls. “Alright.”
A long stretch of silence ensued.
“Dad?”
”Mhm?”
”I’m scared.” A confession.
And he sounded so young, so small - he was, Philza’s brain supplied, just barely out of college. And Philza opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, because this was never his area of expertise, it never had been, it was Kristen’s- always Kristen’s- and what was he supposed to say?
“Me too.” He finally settled on, and that had to be the wrong answer, Phil was sure. That was the opposite of comforting, wasn’t it? ”I’m sure it will be okay.” He tacked on unhelpfully.
He couldn’t see Technoblade’s expression during the silence that followed, but regardless, he spoke again. “We’ll be home soon. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Philza answered, and that, at least, he could say with his full chest. The line clicked off a few moments later, leaving Phil leaning against the counter blankly staring at his son’s contact.
Without thinking, he swiped his phone screen to display his contacts list, and tapped on Kristen’s, holding his phone up to his ear. He’d paid to keep it in service, something that probably wasn’t healthy but fuck, he was grieving, and moments later her sweet voice filled his ears as she recited her voicemail greeting. When the line beeped, he simply talked about everything, about Tommy, about their sons. Finally, he finished, and sat in silence for a few minutes before pulling the phone away and ending the call.
And sitting in the silence of his home, Philza at last began to cry.
000
Tommy hadn’t been sure what to expect from Ranboo’s house. For the amount of time they’d been friends, Tommy’d never actually been, just hung out with him and Tubbo at various other locations. Not that he’d never been invited, but it was typically for sleepovers, something Dream never would have given a green light for in a million years, so he’d never actually been there.
It was nice, a bit bigger than he expected; Ranboo explained as he watched Tommy look around that his mom had a pretty well paying job, most of the reason the two had moved to Essempi in the first place. Ranboo’d been talking essentially nonstop. Tommy recognized it being somewhat from a place of anxiety, but was too exhausted to bring himself to try to do anything about it. What was he supposed to say, hey, sorry I tried to kill myself, lets play Minecraft - man, he’d really fucked up, there wasn’t any way he and Tubbo would want to be friends after all this. He didn’t dwell long on the thought that it was odd he cared, when not even an hour earlier he hadn’t planned to even be alive, so instead he focused on watching Ranboo’s movements within the house.
Other people’s houses, nice houses especially, had a tendency to make Tommy nervous. Every house, every family had their own rules, and Tommy knew what happened to people who broke the rules. So he watched, took off his shoes when Ranboo did, only stepped where Ranboo did himself, and eventually found himself on the couch, piles of blankets piled around him and Ranboo sitting anxiously next to him. They were silent for a bit before Ranboo once again broke it.
”Do you want more Mac and cheese?” He asked awkwardly. “There’s more but I’m not hungry.”
Tommy wasn’t either, but he’d already caused Ranboo enough shit for one night, and didn’t have the heart to refuse. Besides, it’d help to have Ranboo’s heartbroken eyes off him for a few minutes, so he nodded. Ranboo shot him a relieved smile and stood up, walking into the kitchen.
He spent a few minutes glancing around Ranboo’s living room before fishing Wilbur’s phone out of his pocket and unlocking it. He considered briefly going through it, just because he could, but in all honesty he had no real interest. Instead, he opened it to Technoblade’s contact and started typing.
He typed a few messages and deleted them, then typed again.
Soot
> its Tommy
>hi
>at Ranboo’s/
A pause.
Soot
> im sorry
The response was near immediate, despite the hour of night, though, how could they sleep, Tommy mused guiltily. Man, he’d really fucked up everybody’s night, huh?
The Blade
> Hi Toms.
> You okay?
>this is Will hi Tommy
> Wilbur says hi.
> Dad says hi too.
> He asks if you’re okay?
Tommy thought for a moment. Evidently, no, he was not okay, but he didn’t quite know exactly how to say that.
Soot
> im ok
> rans giving me more mac and cheese
The Blade
> Good.
> Can we come see you, tomorrow?
Tommy thought for a moment. There was some horrible, deeply embarrassed part of Tommy that never wanted to see any of the Craftes ever again. But that was dumb, and he knew it.
Soot
> yea
Ranboo walked back in then, and handed him the noodles, which Tommy took and sort of just…held.
“Tubbo’s on his way.”
Tubbo? Tommy’s chest filled with both fear and relief. Of course he wanted to see the other boy, but…
”Does he know?” Tommy finally croaked out, and a guilty expression crossed Ranboo’s face. Fuck, he had to stop making people feel bad tonight.
”Yeah…” Ranboo responded. “Sorry.”
” ‘S fine. He would have found out eventually.” Tommy supposed when you try to kill yourself you somewhat lose the right to keep that a secret. He only hoped that Tubbo wouldn’t think any lesser of him.
True to Ranboo’s word, Tubbo arrived 15 minutes later, immediately announcing dibs on his main in Mario Kart like nothing had happened, and Tommy breathed a sigh of relief at Tubbo’s nonchalance. He wasn’t completely unaware of the tense nature behind his expression, eyes that seemed to follow Tommy’s every move, but he was incredibly grateful for the shred of normalcy.
Which is how he found himself on what had to have been their 100th round of Mario Kart, losing, badly. He didn’t mind, though, and his car veered off course as the exhaustion finally caught up with him, and he succumbed to rest in between his two best friends.
000
Tommy woke last, coming to as the sunlight from the window next to Ranboo’s couch shined softly on his face. He sat up, cringing a few moments later as the events of last night caught up with him.
Ah yes. Last night. There wasn’t any way everyone could just….forget all that happened, right?
Judging by the expressions his friends had when they noticed he was finally awake, probably not. Man, you try to jump off a bridge one time.
Ranboo’s mom, bless the gods above, was the sweetest woman Tommy had ever met in his life. She reminded him a bit of Puffy. She hadn’t seemed to so much as blink an eye at the random, beat up child she’d never met before waking up on her couch. Instead, she’d simply given him the same good morning she’d given Ranboo and Tubbo, given him a bowl of eggs, and kissed Ranboo on the cheek before cheerfully announcing her departure to her office should they need her.
Tommy smiled softly as he watched. Clearly, Ranboo’s seemingly endless kindness and patience came from somewhere.
And then there were three.
Silence hung thick and heavy in the room. Both Tubbo and Ranboo kept their eyes fixed firmly on Tommy; not unkindly, but nevertheless Tommy felt their gazes as intensely as a spotlight shone straight to the face.
Tommy saw his cue. This is the part where he had to say something, right? To explain himself, or apologise, or…something? But what did he have to say? What could he say? Did it even matter? He should just get this over with.
“If you don’t want to be friends anymore, I get it.” He said.
And at that Ranboo got that same, awful, heartbroken look on his face, and turned heel, mumbling something about forgetting something somewhere, and he ran off. Tubbo frowned, then, after a moment, walked over and slapped Tommy upside the head.
“Tommy, he just got you off a fucking bridge and drove you to his house, and you question if he wants to be your friend?”
Tommy’s face reddens as Tubbo takes a forceful sit next to him on the couch, huffing.
“He’s a good person.” Tommy tries to explain. It didn’t have to be him. Ranboo would do that for anyone.
“He is.” Tubbo agreed. A pause. “You really scared him.”
“I’m sorry.” He was. He hadn’t meant to scare Ranboo. He hadn’t meant for Ranboo to even be there.
“You scared me .” And on that, Tubbo’s voice catches, and he stares firmly ahead at the turned off television. Tommy’s heart aches.
“I-”
“I’m really, really mad at you.” Tubbo says definitively. There’s a silence, then, and just as Tommy is preparing for Tubbo to friend-disown him, he continues, “I’m also really, really glad you’re okay.” He ended his sentence on a high, tearful note, and he turned, pulling Tommy into a soft hug.
Tommy hugged him back. “I’m sorry.”
“You better be.”
“I am.”
“You’ll have to make it up to us.”
“I know.”
“ So many rounds of mario kart, okay?” Tubbo’s voice hitched. “ I’m going to kick your ass. It’s going to be fucking handed to you.”
“Okay.” Tommy tearfully laughed.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
Tubbo pulls away then, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Fuck, man, maybe next time just tell us before you go trying to jump off a bridge.”
“Noted.”
“Fuck you.”
Ranboo returns then, clearly relieved to see some of the room’s tension had disappeared. He walked over to the couch, sitting on the other side of Tommy, and fiddled with his hands. Tommy leaned over, pressing softly into Ranboo’s side.
“Thanks.” He finally said.
“Yeah.” Ranboo breathed out. And that was that.
000
“Yes, yeah, si , I’ll look, I will look.” Quackity said, pulling out his old law school books. “Sorry Phil I just…don’t want to promise anything, ya know?”
“That’s fine. I appreciate the help.”
“No problem.” He placed the textbook on his table, flipping through it. “If I find anything helpful I’ll let you know.”
000
Phil walked into Ranboo’s home to the sounds of loud, but light hearted arguing between Tommy and Tubbo - getting closer, he realised it was over what appeared to be mario kart, with Tubbo insisting upon Tommy’s supposed “cheating”. How one was intended to cheat at Mario Kart Phil had no idea, but Tubbo seemed pretty convinced. Phil laughed softly to himself as he watched the two become so engrossed in their argument that they didn’t notice Ranboo’s quiet win. Ranboo set his controller to the side, waiting several minutes until the other two realised they’d lost. They both started shouting at Ranboo then, who directed the attention away from himself by waving at Phil. Wilbur and Technoblade followed into the house shortly behind Phil, and Tommy gave the three a nervous, but wide smile. Wilbur and Technoblade made their way over to the couch, exchanging a few words and hugs with Tommy before taking a turn on ranboo and tubbo’s controllers and starting another round of mario kart.
After checking on Tommy himself and seeing the younger boys settled, Phil made his way to Ranboo’s mother’s office, knocking softly on the door.
Phil was eternally grateful to have another adult to consult about all this - he’d given Quackity a ring, and was still waiting to hear back, but Ranboo’s mother was a welcome addition to the team. They spoke for a few hours, with one thing at least becoming certain - Tommy had to go to a doctor. Phil was sure the boy wouldn’t be a fan of it, but he looked like he’d been hit by a bus, and there was no way anyone would be able to tell if Tommy was hurt in any severe way until he got looked at.
Tommy had been easier to convince than Phil had expected, which he wished he could be grateful for, but it only served to worry the man more. He must have been in a lot of pain to go without a fight.
Phil picked at his shirt in the urgent care waiting room as Tommy filled out a few papers. He was getting a bit of deja vu, sitting here again. He glanced over at Tommy’s paperwork, grimacing as he saw Tommy hesitate, then slowly circle “no” on the question regarding home safety. He’d had his hunches, of course - it hadn’t exactly been rocket science to figure out - still, his heart broke for the younger. He reached over, giving Tommy a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. Tommy gave him a nervous smile, setting the clipboard down on the table next to him.
Phil’s phone dinged, and he looked down. It was most likely Wilbur, again, who’d been texting for updates nearly every 10 minutes. Phil opened the text message, finding it instead to be from quackity.
Big Q
> hey hey phil i think i mightve found smthn
> not huge but not nothing?
> can i come b y
Phil sat up straighter. Tommy glanced over, intrigued, but said nothing.
Crowfather
> Im at the doctor rn w Tommy
>Might be in the waiting room for a bit, if you want to come by now
> or we’ll be back at Ranboo’s in a few hours, probably
> idk what the doctor is going to say
Big Q
> coming rn
> brining puggy
> *bringing Puffy
Phil furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, unsure what Puffy had to do with all this. Nevertheless, he assumed Quackity knew what he was doing.
Tommy was called into the office about half an hour later. Phil was truthful this time, admitting to just being a friend. He thanked his lucky stars they hadn’t gotten the same doctor as last time. That would have been a bit difficult to explain.
At Tommy’s request, he’d been allowed to sit in for a majority of the appointment. He watched as the doctor fussed over a truly egregious amount of injuries, and Phil felt himself grow more and more angry by the second. Why would anyone do this? Especially his own uncle.
Phil thought back to Wilbur and Technoblade at Tommy’s age. Sure, they’d gotten themselves into a bit of trouble, as all teenagers do. But Phil couldn’t think for a second of anything either boy could have possibly done to deserve anyone laying a hand on them. He couldn’t even begin to imagine harming a hair on either of his son’s heads. He didn’t understand it. Whoever this “Dream” is, Phil couldn't decide if he ever wanted to meet the man. It’d sicken him to be in the same room as someone so heartless, but Phil would be lying if he said he didn’t want to sock him in the face. Phil was a gentle man, usually, but he could always make an exception.
Phil was brought back to reality by the doctor requesting for him to leave so she could speak with Tommy privately. Phil had expected this, though his anxiety was not lessened, especially seeing the apprehensive expression Tommy was sending his way. Nevertheless, he gave Tommy a reassuring smile and a promise everything would be fine and that he’d be right outside. Phil then made his way to the waiting room and sat down. Another notification pinged his phone, and he fished it out to check.
Big Q
> srry traffic! B there in 20
> hows toms
Crowfather
> okay I think, they didnt find anything too bad
> they r talking to him alone rn
Big Q
> ah yeah they have 2
> mandated reporters
> im glad T’s ok
Quackity and Puffy arrived around the same time a woman walked out of the office, greeting Phil as she did so. Quackity and puffy stood to the side, letting Phil and the woman talk.
“Philza Crafte?”
“That’s me.”
“You brought in Thomas Simmons, correct?”
Philza nodded.
She looked down at her clipboard. “My name is Vanessa, I’m a social worker who works with the hospital.”
Philza nodded.
“I can’t give specific details due to patient confidentiality, but Thomas is to be removed from the care of his current guardian due to suspicion of abuse. We are going to take custody of him temporarily and he will be placed into foster care as we have been unable to find another blood relative willing to take him. You did good to bring him here, but we will take it from here.”
Phil’s heart began to race. Tommy, in foster care? His head spun. He knew it would be a possibility, he and Ranboo’s mom had discussed it, but it felt more real now that the social worker was in front of him. Would Tommy be okay? Just then, Quackty tapped on Phil’s shoulder, moving himself and Puffy into the conversation.
Quackity introduced himself to the social worker with a surprising amount of professionalism - Phil was so used to seeing the man as a friend or customer, he had forgotten his status as a businessman as well.
Quackity pulled out a book, then, flipping through it until finding what he was looking for and pointing it out to the social worker.
“According to this, a temporary custody of up to four weeks can be granted to a family friend of the child’s blood relatives. Which would include her.” He motioned to Puffy. Phil was not given a second to express his surprise before Puffy stepped forwards, holding her hand out to the social worker. From the look on the woman’s face, Puffy gripped her hand a bit too hard in the ensuing handshake.
“His guardian and parents used to be on an athletics team with me, before Thomas was born.” she said. “We met to practice every other day for around 8 years, until his mother’s pregnancy.”
“Family friend.” Quackity reiterated.
The social worker re-read the book, humming. “Do you have proof of the alleged relationship?”
Puffy reached into her bag, pulling out a ziplock in which there were a few pictures and a certificate. as well as a few medals. “These are from our competitions.” She explained. “They’re in the photos, uh, their names should all be on this thing.” She pointed to the certificate.
The social worker looked through the ziplock, making occasional notes on her clipboard.
“Do you mind if I keep this temporarily?”
“Not at all.” Puffy nervously wiped her hands on her skirt.
The woman nodded. “Give me a moment to make a few consults. I’ll get back to you in around ten minutes.”
She walked off then, her heels clicking on the tiles as she disappeared behind the door she’d walked out of. Phil’s legs shook, about ready to collapse, and he sat himself down in one of the waiting room chairs before he had a chance to entirely fall over.
Quackity sat with him. “I’m sorry. It’s all I could find.”
Phil shook his head. “No, it's fine, it’s great. Thank you.” He looked up at Puffy, then. Who smiled at him awkwardly. She normally carried herself with such confidence, it was the first time Phil had seen her nervous. It was a bit strange, in a way.
“I didn’t know you knew Tommy’s family.”
“I didn’t either. We stopped meeting up after his mother got pregnant, and after she gave birth we just fell out of touch. I didn't put two and two together until recently.” She went quiet for a moment, then continued softly. “Dream used to be ... .different. I had no idea.”
Another silence ensued, broken then by Quackity. “It’d only buy us a month, but we might be able to figure something out in the meantime. Can you think of anything, anyone who might be able to take him?”
Phil thought hard, He had no idea if Tommy had any other family, and he likely did not by how the social worker had spoken. Puffy could only take him for four weeks. He’d had such a hard time finding out anything about the boy, he had no idea who might be willing to take him. Ranboo’s mom, maybe? Or…
Phil suddenly remembered a conversation he’d had with Kristen, long ago. A bundle of papers in a folder, stashed in a box far into a closet, where he’d put the few things of Kristen’s he could not bear to look at after her passing.
“What about me?” he asked before he could think about it.
Quackity blinked at him. “Well, legally-”
“Kristen wasn’t able to have more kids after the twins, so we filled out a bunch of paperwork to become foster certified. But we got distracted and never filed them. I put them away after she died, but I still have them.” He turned to Quackity. “Would they still be usable?”
Quackity thought for a moment. “You’d have to redo some of it to update them. But If we get them processed right away…” He thought. “There’s a chance. A small one, but a chance.”
Phil wasn’t sure about many things. However, despite all the things about this he felt he should be questioning, he’d never felt more sure of anything in his life.
“I’ll take it.”
The social worker walked back in then, and Phil and Quackity quickly stood up. She smiled at the group for the first time, lowering her clipboard and holding it at her side.
“The hospital is going to hold Thomas overnight to check for any internal injuries. Tomorrow morning a social worker will bring him to the home and give it an inspection, we will also be collecting your information,” she pointed a pen at Puffy, “Before we leave today to run a background check. Assuming a clean record and home, temporary guardianship can be granted for a maximum period of four weeks.”
Philza grinned. He profusely thanked the social worker, who then began to gather Puffy’s information to run a background check. He stepped off to the side, chatting briefly before Quackity stepped away to make a phone call.
They had some work to do.