buried empty

by orphan_account

Summary:

Phil and Technoblade bury the youngest of the family. So it comes as a shock when they find him (barely) alive, beneath their feet.
They soon come to realize that there’s much more damage beneath the surface than they could’ve imagined.

Notes:

I haven't written anything in forever, so beware terrible writing and pacing and whatnot.
First chapter takes place around the time of the Butcher Army incident, and it’s sad, so beware.

Chapter 1

It’s Phil who comes to deliver the message. 

 

He knows it’s bad when he opens the door to his father, whose eyes are dimmed red and puffy. Who doesn’t look him in the eyes, head bowed to the ground.

 

Phil quietly asks him to sit down, and in a gentle and broken voice informs him that Tommy is missing, and most likely dead.

 

The words don’t take effect at first, but Phil tells him that he’ll stay the night anyways. For both their sakes. 

 

“The funeral is in a few days. Tubbo insisted that Tommy should be buried under the L’Manburg tree.” Phil says quietly, organizing things that were organized before, just to do something. 

 

“How is he?” Technoblade asks, although his voice and Phil’s sound so far away in his own ears, so distant. 

 

(The other voices aren’t. They cry, cry for his brother in the way he can’t.)

 

“Destroyed. He feels like it’s his fault.” 

 

“Was it?” 

 

Phil shakes his head. “No. No, it wasn’t Tubbo’s fault.” Techno notices that he’s gripping the edge of the chest with white knuckles. “He found this uh, pillar, built straight into the sky. The guess is that Tommy blew up all his things and then jumped.” 

 

Considering Tommy hadn’t been visited in a few days, it gave any monsters or animals a chance to… remove any chance of finding a body.

 

So, most likely dead.

 

Techno just grunted, sharpening his axe just the same. It hasn’t hit yet. Doesn’t want to think about it.

 

Tommy and him hadn't parted on good terms, not that they had been on good terms most of their lives. Tommy always wanted to follow Wilbur, who never saw eye-to-eye with him up until the very end. 

 

And now both his brothers are dead.

 

(Both of their own accord, both not getting help when they needed it most. Both abandoned.)

 

“Do you think he’ll come back like Ghostbur?” Techno asks quietly, hoping the question isn’t too much for him. Phil still couldn’t quite look Ghostbur in the eyes.

 

“Not sure. I’d like to think he passed with no regrets holding him to this plane. But considering the circumstances….” 

 

Techno nods. “He’ll be a very annoying spirit if he comes back, and we won’t be able to shut him up this time.”

 

Phil laughs weakly, hand wiping at his face. “Yeah, yeah he would be.”

 

———— 

 

It doesn’t hit when Wilbur arrives at his door the next morning, crying. It’s the most emotion he’s shown since he was alive. 

 

“Hi Ghostbur,” Techno greets, opening the door for his twin to float in. Wilbur drips deep blue tears down his cheeks that puddle onto the floor. 

 

“Techno, Techno, Tubbo told me Tommy’s gone!” Wilbur cries, hands clutching his sweater. “But he can’t, Techno, right? Not Tommy, not Tommy, please not Tommy!”

 

Wilbur wails, and Phil practically trips over himself to see what’s happening. And then Wilbur is sobbing into Phil’s shoulder, and Phil is crying too, and Techno can only watch blankly. 

 

“Please, dad, tell me he’s okay, please tell me he’s alive please,” Wilbur begs, clutching Phil like he’ll disappear forever if he lets go. “Not my baby brother, not Tommy!”

 

Wilbur wails through the morning, through the night, and into the next day. He wails at the funeral, for his baby brother to come back, and Tubbo sobs right alongside him. Fundy comforts his screaming father. Ranboo keeps his head in his hands. 

 

(And in the back is Dream, head lowered and hands under his mask. Quietly whispering, ‘This isn’t what I wanted.’ )

 

There’s a lot of crying, but none of it’s from Techno. When he approaches Tommy’s empty casket with Phil, he’s not sure what to do. He can’t cry, and he doesn’t know why, and he feels bad about it. 

 

Phil quietly apologizes for not raising him better, for not giving him enough attention or time when he was a kid. For not visiting enough, especially when he needed it most.

 

Techno apologizes for not being a good brother. He should’ve held his brother closer, guided him better, made sure he was safe and happy. Apologizes for not protecting him. 

 

Techno goes back to his house, and Phil brings all his things with him to move in.

(“Are you sure you want to do this, Phil?” Quackity asked, eyeing where Technoblade stood a few meters from the house. He shifts from foot to foot, biting his lip. “There’s a lot of people here who can help and stuff.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure.”

 

“I don’t mean to, well, pour salt in the wound, but Techno’s here out of courtesy, just for the funeral.” Phil stilled from packing his things, and Fundy, Tubbo, and Ranboo peered in anxiously from the doorway. Quackity drew the short stick, as the only one who wanted to bring it up. “He’s still a war criminal, and I don’t know if you want to be with him when-“ 

 

“Haven’t you taken enough?!” Phil snapped all of a sudden, practically yelling. Quackity shrunk under his anger, and Phil turned to the other three in the doorway. “All of you! Hasn’t this fucking place taken enough of my sons?!” 

 

Phil doesn’t give a shit when he pushes through them, doesn’t care that Ranboo and Fundy are on the verge of tears and that Tubbo is crying. 

 

No, no. He had more important things to focus on: keep his last son alive.)

Wilbur stays back at L’manburg, waits at Tommy’s grave in case he comes back.

 

“Come back soon,” Phil had said quietly, watching as Wilbur sat in front of his little brother’s grave, hoping for a ghost to appear before him. “once you’re all done.” 

 

Wilbur doesn’t respond, just stares at the engraving on Tommy’s tombstone. The grass where he sits is dyed a dark blue, just like the tears streaming down his twin’s cheeks.

 

When Techno and Phil return home, they extend the house to make more room, and Phil doesn’t come out of his new room much for a few days.

 

When he checks in on Phil, he sees him holding an outfit that matches their own Antarctic Empire one, just smaller. Tommy-sized. 

 

He leaves him be.

 

They don’t talk much, and when they do it’s not really about anything. Mostly about their chores, collecting honey and farming and whatnot, and trying to pretend that he isn’t gone. 

 

Just somewhere else. 

 

In the weeks that pass, Techno greatly worries about his father’s health. He finds tracks of snow coming in from the door. Finds food and supplies missing. Finds Wilbur’s old coat missing.

 

But when he gently questions Phil about his observations, Phil seems confused, saying he never took anything. Says he hasn’t gone outside for the most part other than to harvest stuff, and did his best not to track snow in. 

 

It makes him worry, but he trusts his word. 

 

It’s probably just a small animal that got in, took stuff and ran off again. It doesn’t explain Wilbur’s missing coat, but he can’t bring himself to ask his father again.

 

“ You’re the only son I have left, Techno. ”

 

Phil could have it.

And then, one day, he goes to his basement and he stops when his boots hit the floor. It’s hollow beneath his feet, which is new.

 

The ground has been emptied beneath his feet and he never noticed. So, he investigates, and digs.

 

His pickaxe breaks through the stone and he peeks through to realize that there’s something below, and it’s not a cave or a mole infestation or what not. 

 

It smells awful, and a thrown torch into the hole reveals a tiny room beneath his basement. He can see the edges of a rickety chest and some blankets.

 

Had some vagrant dug beneath his home to steal? To live off of him? He huffs, and glares at the hole. This may be the worst possible time to annoy him.

 

Whatever crawled under his house could crawl back out without it’s legs.

 

Even with his cloak it’s freezing down here, and the smell is even more pungent, which brings him to wonder if the thing had already died.

 

A kick to the blanket reveals that yes, there is a person beneath it, but it doesn’t seem to wake the thing. Techno sighs and hopes that if it’s a body, it’s not already disgustingly decomposed. It would be a wreck to clean out.

 

He peels off the blanket, axe at the ready just in case. 

 

The voices scream, and for the first time in a long time, so does Techno.

He’s pulling him up the ladder by the time Phil rushes down, terror evident on his face. 

 

“Techno, what happened? Are you okay? Are you injured? Are you—“

 

And then he sees the near-death body in his arms and he looks like he’s about to scream too. 

 

He doesn’t, instead helping Techno rush to clear off the table and gather supplies and Techno lays his baby brother on the table—

 

—God, his baby brother—

 

— and prays that they don’t lose him a second time.

 

It takes the day and most of the night for them to finally relent that they’ve done as much as they could. 

 

Cleaned, stitched, bandaged, and… amputated. 

 

Held, prayed, cried, and looked at each other in horror.

 

Tommy just has to break his fever and wake up. 

 

They stay next to his side the rest of the night, take turns watching and caring for him the next few days.

 

(They talk quietly about the whos, the whys and the hows. 

Talk about how Tommy could have gotten those cuts, those burns, those bruises. 

How long he had been below the house. 

Why he had hidden below the house. Why he whimpered and shook in his sleep.

Who gave him those injuries. Who needed to bleed out for laying a hand on his brother.

The voices scream, and Techno would too if he wasn’t so tired.)

It finally hits then. Weeks after the funeral, days after finding him, watching over Tommy in the middle of the night as Phil rests. 

 

He buried his little brother, his little brother who reportedly committed suicide, who he told to die like a hero .

 

His little brother who he had held in his arms as a baby, had help taught to read, who he had sworn to protect when Phil couldn’t. Who he failed to protect.

 

He buried him, he buried him, he buried Tommy .

 

And he might have to bury him again. 

 

(Techno holds Tommy’s hand with an iron grip, willing him to not fade away as he cries over him.)

Chapter 2

Summary:

Techno and Phil try to distract themselves from the terror of losing Tommy again, putting their effort towards caring for him and the future.

Notes:

Wow! This blew up a lot more than I expected! I’m glad you guys like it, it means a lot :) but anyways, welcome back to pain!

tw/ mention of blood/injury and amputation, but not talked about in any graphic detail

The house is even quieter now, the occupants buried in their own thoughts and tasks they’ve set upon themselves.

 

When Phil or Techno is watching over Tommy, carefully tending to his wounds and trying to get him through the nightmares, the other is making progress on the new to-do list for when he wakes up.

 

It’s optimistic, but it’s the one thing keeping Techno and Phil in one piece at this point, the one hope keeping them from shattering.

 

A prosthetic for Tommy’s leg is high on the list, but it’s also the most challenging. Neither of them have ever attempted to make one, and it’s difficult to know if it works well or not when the person it’s meant for can’t test it out. 

 

But Techno had been the one to take the challenge, carving the wood and installing the metal that would give it structure and allow the joints to move. It’s finicky and annoying, but it keeps him busy.

 

Phil busies himself with getting more tools and items for Tommy when he wakes up, including some winter gear. Boots, gloves, a new coat, all lovingly sewn by their father.

 

(“Why would he come all the way out here with no gloves, no coat, and missing a shoe? He knows better than to risk that.” Phil had asked quietly, rewrapping the bandage around the end of Tommy’s… where the rest Tommy’s leg once was. Mid-thigh, that’s what was left after the frostbite and infection.

 

“He was desperate enough to risk it, I guess.” Techno answers, whittling down an oak log while they talk. “Whatever it was, Tommy saw it as more dangerous than walking through the snow without anything to protect him.”

 

Phil is silent after that, and Techno pretends to not notice the way he holds his head in his hands, mumbling gentle apologies to his youngest and a promise to never leave him again. )

 

Seeing Phil quilt and sew brings so many memories of simple times, when they were younger and rowdier and Phil was constantly having to stitch the rips in their clothes from playing.

 

There’s one that hurts more than the rest, a coat that had once been Wilbur’s, bloodstained and charred and ripped. Tommy had been wrapped in it when they found him, holding it tightly to his chest.

 

Techno offers to clean and stitch it, but Phil refuses. “No,” he had said, voice breaking but still stern. “No, it’s okay. I have to do this.”

 

It sits on the edge of Tommy’s bed, waiting to be returned to the hands of its rightful owner.

(They flit in and out of the room where Tommy sleeps, never too far or too long away. They surround him with as much comfort and care and love as possible, and pray it’s enough, that Tommy knows. Come back .)

On the fourth day, Phil sees his eyes finally open.

 

Techno’s not there, but Phil tells him that Tommy didn’t really seem to be lucid, just be awake enough to drink some water and eat a tiny bit before falling back asleep. 

 

Awake for less than two minutes, but they both cheer, hug each other and cry because he woke up . 

 

They weren’t through the woods yet, but they could finally see a light peeking through the trees.

 

Techno stays next to Tommy’s bed for the rest of the night, and the next few days. 

Tommy cries and whimpers in his sleep and it’s painful to not be able to comfort him, not capable of doing anything but just sitting there and listening to him suffer. 

 

All he can do is do his best to treat the physical wounds and wait. It’s excruciating.

 

It was always Wilbur who comforted Tommy, always Wilbur who came running when Tommy had nightmares or was scared of monsters under the bed. 

 

It was Wilbur who softly sang to him, who lulled him back to sleep with a gentle song and the strum of his guitar. 

 

(It was Wilbur who Tommy left with, who Tommy followed with complete loyalty. 

 

It was Wilbur who Tommy stayed with up until the end, even when he no longer resembled the older brother he used to know.

 

“Give me a chance to be a better father,” Phil had begged, pushing Tommy’s grimy hair out of his bloody face as Techno worked on stitching one of his wounds. “Please, my son, make it through this. I have to show you that I can be a better father. Please .”)

 

Techno didn’t know how to do that, how to give comfort like that, but he does his best. Hopes that reading his favorite books to Tommy was enough, and it seems to help him through some of the nightmares.

 

He’s not really sure how much it actually helps, but the voices praise him, tell him he’s being a good brother. He’s sure doesn’t feel like one. And he won’t, not until he’s awake.

 

Phil’s not the only one who feels like they’ve failed their family.

A few days pass, and Tommy’s eyes open, and Techno feels like laughing and crying all at once.

 

The blond blinks slowly, eyes just kinda rolling around, not fully taking in anything. 

 

“Hi Tommy.” He greets so very gently, but his hands are twitching at his side. 

 

The first thing Tommy does when he finally sees him, really sees him, is flinch. 

 

Techno feels like he’s been slapped.

 

Then Tommy opens his mouth to croak out something, and his dry and rough throat only can get out, “Please,”

 

And Techno panics, whips his head around to look for something, whatever Tommy needs. He’s not sure, water? Food? Gently, he asks, “What, what is it?”

 

And Tommy’s lower lip quivers, his shoulders shake. He looks like he’s about to start crying, and Techno reaches for him, to hold him, comfort him, help him, the way he couldn’t before but—

 

Tommy jolts backwards, sobs escaping him and tears running down his cheeks, and in the quietest, most terrified voice he’s ever heard from Tommy, whispers, “Please don’t hurt me.”

 

His heart shatters.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Tommy.”

 

He takes a step away from the bed, hands open and facing Tommy to show that he’s unarmed, that he means no harm.

 

(It hurts that he has to convince his own little brother that he’s not gonna hurt him.)

 

Tommy sniffles, relaxing just a tad as more distance is put between them, shoulders releasing their tension as the minutes pass and Techno makes no move towards him.

 

They’re both silent for a few minutes, Tommy watching him warily and Techno freezing up, not sure what to do. Tommy’s eyes are wide and fearful, but he’s obviously so tired.

 

“Do you want some water?” Techno eventually asks, motioning with an open palm towards the glass of water at his bedside. Tommy glances at it, then looks back. “You can go back to bed after you take a few sips.”

 

Tommy keeps his eyes on him as he hesitantly grabs the glass with shaky hands, muscles weak from days (maybe even weeks) of disuse. He gulps it down within a few seconds, but keeps the glass in his hand, like a weapon. 

 

“When… when did you find me?” Tommy asks, voice better than before but the gravelly tone of disuse and sickness remains.

 

“A little over a week ago.” Tommy’s eyes widen. “You were pretty sick and hurt when we found you, so you’ve been out of it pretty much the entire time.”

 

Tommy tenses, his knuckles go white as he tightens his grip on the glass. “‘We’?” 

 

“Phil’s here too. Just him.” Tommy practically melts in relief, and Techno has so many questions. But Tommy’s still very sick, and he’s worried questioning him will only make him even more stressed out. “I think you should go back to bed. We can answer your other questions next time you wake up, okay?”

 

“Wait, wait, just—“ Tommy starts, his hands fiddling with the edge of the glass. He looks nervous, but it’s a little less wary than before. “Can you promise me something?” 

 

“Anything.” He means it.

 

“Please don’t tell him I’m here. Please. I’ll do anything you want but just,” his voice lowers to a whisper. “don’t tell Dream.”

 

“I won’t. I swear.” He promises, and Tommy relaxes enough to lay back down on the bed. “I’ll protect you.” 

 

“Thank you.” His voice is shaky and full of relief, and he closes his eyes. Techno watches for a few minutes, as Tommy floats off into a sleep that he hopes is nightmare-free, and then makes his way to the main level.

 

His hands are curled into fists, his mouth a snarl, and his blood is boiling beneath his skin.

 

He doesn’t know about everything that happened yet, but he has a name. A name to associate with the nightmares that plague his baby brother, the bruises that cover his skin, the terror in his eyes. 

 

The voices call for Dream’s blood, and he will answer it.

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next chapter might have a ghosty boi in it.
I promise that there will eventually be some comfort, I just need you to suffer for a little while longer. :)

Chapter 3

Summary:

Ranboo tries to make the best decisions that he can, and Ghostbur struggles to come to terms with everything that has happened.

Notes:

another chapter !! This one is a little different, both in writing and who the chapter focuses on, and how long it needed up being lol.
I hope you enjoy it!!

There’s been talk of executing Technoblade. 

 

Ranboo just nods along with Quackity ramblings, but a pit is growing in his stomach. 

 

Quackity seemed more bark than bite to him, but the indignation in his voice has surpassed the bitterness of a passionate citizen. No, it’s obsession, it’s violence for the sake of violence.

 

And there’s not much he can do to stop it at this point. Tubbo was far, far gone in his grief, locked away in his office after Tommy’s death. 

 

It was just politeness that had Quackity and Fundy asking for his permission to carry out their version of justice, and they didn’t even do much of that anymore. 

 

And according to that justice, Technoblade must be executed. 

 

It doesn’t sit right, the knowledge of what they wanted to do. It sits in his stomach and it stays there, and he carries it with him wherever he goes. 

 

Luckily, they have no clue where to find him, but it’s the only thing that’s stopping them. As soon as they get that information, they will hunt him.

 

Ranboo wishes he could warn him, could let him know that his retirement might be a bit in peril.

 

He has no love for Technoblade, but he owes a debt to Phil. 

 

(The guilt of not being there enough, not being there when it counted weighs on him heavily. A child died, a friend, a brother, a son. Committed suicide. He had cared for Tommy, he owed him a lot. He owes a debt that he can’t ever repay.)

 

If nothing else, he won’t let ‘The Butcher Army’ kill that father’s only living son, for it could kill him too.

 

He would’ve thought Fundy cared more about his extended family, but there’s no love for them left in his eyes. He’s been around Quackity a lot, and Quackity has turned his grief into rage, violence. Fundy follows his lead, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

 

So, he has one last ditch effort, a final desperate plea.

 

“Hello Ghostbur.” Ranboo greets, taking a seat beside the ghost. The L’mantree stands tall, casting a shadow over the two figures. 

 

It’s been weeks, and Ghostbur has barely moved from Tommy’s grave since the funeral. He sits, waiting for a brother who may never return. 

 

“Hello Ranboo. Have you come to visit Tommy?” Ghostbur asks, eyes not leaving the gravestone. There’s fresh flowers placed there every other day, courtesy of Niki. 

 

“No, I’ve come to ask you for something.”

 

“I don’t have any blue, no.” Ghostbur responds quietly, like he’s been asked many times. “I ran out a while ago.”

 

“No, that’s not it. Something scary is going on, and I need your help.” That wins him a curious hum. “Do you know where Technoblade lives?” 

 

Ghostbur looks at him, too quick for him to fully catch the emotions behind it, but it looked like a glare. “Quackity and Fundy already asked me that, and I told them I forgot. So I would appreciate it if I was not asked that question anymore.”

 

That’s… new. There’s a tone in his voice, different from the high, wistful voice of Ghostbur. Not quite so oblivious. He was obviously not the first to think of using Ghostbur to find Technoblade.

 

(It still brings a little anger, the thought that Fundy had planned to use his oblivious dead father to kill his uncle.)

 

“Okay, I get it. But he’s in danger.” Ghostbur’s hands clutch at his sweater, brows furrowed. “There’s a price on Technoblade’s head, and I need you to warn him.”

 

“Why is he in danger?”

 

“It’s… difficult to explain, but he did some things in the past that some people are still upset about.” 

 

Ghostbur hums, tilting his head and looking at Ranboo like he’s studying him.

 

“I didn’t think you liked Techno very much.” He finally says, and Ranboo nods.

 

“No, I don’t. But I liked Tommy.” Ghostbur sucks in a shaky breath. “And I like Phil. I don’t want to see him lose anyone else.”

 

“You visited Tommy.” Ranboo can’t look him in the eyes anymore, but catching sight of the gravestone hurts just as much. The flowers are pretty, he hopes Tommy would like them. “You cared for him.”

 

“He was a good kid. He deserved better.”

 

Ghostbur wipes at the blue dripping down his cheeks, and he nods shakily. They sit there quietly, and Ghostbur meets his eyes once more.

 

“You just want me to warn him?” Ranboo nods, gently laying a hand on his shoulder and pulling him into a hug. He slips a letter into his hand, and Ghostbur slips it under his sweater. 

 

He’d be shocked at his grasp of the situation if he hadn’t just learned that Ghostbur is capable of flat out lying. 

 

“Don’t let anyone see you. And be careful.” Ranboo says, pulling away and patting his shoulder. 

 

“You’re very nice, Ranboo. I see why Tommy liked you.” Ranboo smiles, and Ghostbur stands for the first time in weeks. Ghostbur looks back at the grave. “Could you watch him while I’m away? You don’t have to stay here, but could please just check up on him every once in a while?” 

 

“Of course. I’ll watch out for him while you’re gone.” 

 

Ghostbur smiles, the first time in weeks. “Thank you.”

 

Ghostbur disappears, and Ranboo feels a weight lift off his chest. He looks back to the flowers that surround the grave. Maybe he could actually save someone this time. 

 

“So, what was that?”

 

Quackity approaches from behind, and Ranboo tenses, but quickly forces himself to look relaxed. 

 

“Oh, hey.” Ranboo quickly stands, brushing the petals off his pants. “Just checking up on Ghostbur.”

 

“I haven’t seen him leave before. Funny how he does that as you show up, huh?” Obviously, suspicion wasn’t something that could be avoided with him. 

 

“He asked me to watch Tommy’s grave while he went out to look for him.”

 

Quackity looks taken aback, a guilty look flashing through his eyes. He turns a bit, not facing the gravestone. “Just odd timing, man. Suspicious, not gonna lie.”

 

“No, I get it. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. What harm could Ghostbur do?” Quackity glances at him, gives a little understanding nod. 

 

“You understand why I’m cautious though, right? You’re a nice dude.” There’s the crunch of grass to his left, and a glance reveals its Fundy. Ah. They’re on either side of him, now.

 

“Of course.” Sweat beads at his neck. “Everything okay?”

 

“We just need you to stay in your house a while.” Fundy answers nervously, and Quackity nods. Like an approval. “A short while, not too long.”

 

“A vacation.” Quackity steps closer.

 

“Yeah, a little home stay vacation.” Fundy follows him.

 

“Okay, cool. Let’s just, go there. I can stay home a while.” Ranboo agrees, shoving down the urge to run. “Oh, but just one thing.”

 

Quackity’s fingers twitch at his side, near the handle of his sword. 

 

“Check up on Tommy’s grave for me? He doesn’t deserve to be abandoned again.” It’s gently spoken, but it’s enough. Quackity recoils, and Fundy looks as if he’s been punched in the gut.

 

He heads towards his home, alone.

 

(He knows exactly how much that feeling of responsibility can hurt, and he hopes it’s painful for them too. It means that they still care, that they can still be helped.)

 

———

 

You left him. Again.

 

“I know,” he replies. “But I won’t be gone long.”

 

You have no way of knowing that. You’re abandoning him again.

 

“No, no, no I’m not.” 

 

You left him to die and now you’re leaving him to suffer all alone.

 

“No, stop, I’m not—“

 

The same way you did when you left him all alone in exile, and all alone he died.

 

“Tommy, no, not Tommy,” he starts to cry, the tears pouring down his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to leave, I got lost, I didn’t, oh Tommy.”

 

A failure, a terrible brother, even in death.

 

“I’m so sorry, Tommy, Tommy,” he wails, and he has half a mind to turn back, to return to his baby brother. But there’s other voices, yelling from ahead that stops him. He approaches, trepidation in his steps.

 

Peeking through the trees, he can see Techno’s cozy cabin. Ah, right. He was delivering something from Ranboo, for Techno.

 

Protect the brother you haven’t fully failed yet.

 

“—sit and wait around! I’m finding him, and I’m killing him, end of fucking story.” Techno is shouting, axe in hand as he makes his way to the trees. He looks upset. He looks pissed.

 

Phil is grabbing him by the arm and shouting right back. “And leave him?! Whatever the fuck happens, it waits until after he’s better!” Phil finally gets him to stop, to look at him. “He’s safe right now, when no one knows any better. Kill Dream, give him reason to believe he’s alive, and he will hunt him down.”

 

Techno still seems upset, angry for whatever reason, but he stays quiet. 

 

Kill Dream?

 

“Are you alright, Techno?” Ghostbur calls out, making his way into the clearing. Phil and Techno both jolt at the sound of his voice, whipping their heads towards him with an instinctual move to grab their weapon.

 

Phil looks shocked to see him, and Ghostbur smiles when his father runs towards him, embracing him tightly.

 

“Hi Phil.” He had missed them, while he had sat alone at Tommy’s grave, waiting.

 

“Hello, Ghostbur.” Phil greets, releasing him from the tight hug. Phil wipes at the blue that pours from his eyes, but it’s no use trying to stop it. Ghostbur gives him a weak smile for the attempt anyways.

 

“What are you doing here?” Techno asks, and he looks older. Like he’s aged years in the little time they’ve been apart.

 

“Oh, well, you see, you know Ranboo?” Phil nods, and Wilbur pulls out the letter he had hid under his sweater. “He came to me this morning, very nervous, saying he needed me to give you this, Techno.” 

 

Techno and Phil look immediately on edge, sharing a glance before they’re scanning the edge of the forest. Techno asks quickly, “Did anyone see you? Follow you here?”

 

“No, nobody saw me. I was all invisible and stuff for a while, like one of those storybook ghosts.” He pushes the letter towards them, against Techno’s chest. “It’s important, a warning, he said. That you’re in danger.”

 

“When am I not,” Techno sighs, snatching the letter and ripping it open. He reads through it quickly, and Phil is still glancing between Techno, Ghostbur, and the trees. “Oh. That may be an issue.” Techno hands it off to Phil, who seems to be increasingly distraught as he reads it. “But why the hell would he warn me?”

 

“He said he likes Phil, and that he liked Tommy. Maybe that’s why.” Ghostbur says, shrugging. Techno and Phil seem to have another moment, sharing another tense look with each other. 

 

They’re hiding something. Of course they wouldn’t want to share it with you, with how much of a fool you are.

 

It stings, yet he still hesitantly asks, “Are you guys okay?”

 

Phil gives him a (strained) smile. “Yes, Ghostbur. We were just having a little disagreement that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

 

“You’re lying,” he blurts, in tandem with the aggressive voice inside him. They look surprised, and it only burns into him more. “Why are you lying?”

 

After another silent glance, Techno stares at him, questioning, analyzing. “If we tell you,” Techno starts, slowly and hesitantly. “You can’t tell anyone.”

 

“I can keep a secret! I just proved it.” Ghostbur says as cheerily as he can. 

 

“You deserve to know.” Phil says quietly, and he motions for the twins to follow him back to the house. It’s tense, quiet, and Ghostbur feels something like a shiver crawl up his spine.

 

Something is wrong. What could they be hiding?

 

Ghostbur shrugs to himself. Entering the house, Phil quickly runs off to his room, bringing back a guitar.

 

“I don’t think I understand.” Ghostbur says as Phil hands it to him, but he’s quickly shushed by his family. 

 

“Just… be quiet, okay? Don’t freak out.” Phil requests, voice a whisper. “Do you still remember a few songs?”

 

Ghostbur nods, confusion evident on his face as they lead him up a ladder. It’s dark in this room, the curtains blocking out the light, but he can see the general layout of a bedroom. Phil gently holds his hand, silently leading him towards the bed, where a chair sits in front of it.

 

It takes a moment to realize that there is a person in the bed. Now that he’s closer, he can hear quiet whimpering, crying coming from the person in the bed. 

 

The person flips onto his side, and Ghostbur inhales sharply, almost immediately light-headed.

 

There’s bandages all over his face, his hair is longer, and his cheeks so gaunt it’s scary, but it’s Tommy. It’s his baby brother, his precious Tommy.

 

tommytommytommytommymybabybrothertommy

 

He’s crying again before he realizes it, reaching towards him, but Phil pulls him back a smile, shushing him quietly. 

 

He looks at Phil with confusion, shock, how how how? They went to his funeral, buried him, how is he in this bed, alive?

 

Phil just smiles, and a hand rubbing at his back, and when he looks at Techno he just nods, like that means something. Techno motions at the guitar and his hands, then at his baby brother, crying in his sleep. 

 

His hands move yet they don’t feel like his own, not fully in control as he strums his guitar, but it also feels more like him than he’s ever felt.

 

He hums along with the quietly strummed lullaby, the one he always sang to Tommy when he was young, when the nightmares and monsters had him running into Wilbur’s room.

 

‘I don’t remember that,’ he thinks, feeling himself slip just a little more. 

 

But I do. Just, please. Please let me do this for him.

 

He’s not in control, but the scene he watches from behind his own eyes is comforting, familial.

 

Tommy crying slows, and after a few minutes, stops completely. His clenched fists relaxed, his breathing evens out. He looks calm. Peaceful.

 

He’s not sure why Techno or Phil is crying, but he’s also not sure why his own body is crying either. His heart clenches in a way that he only felt in the worst of his grief, when the screams weren’t fully his anymore.

 

The hums are shaky as he quietly sobs, relief and joy and the feeling of something lifting from his chest all flooding through him. He hasn’t felt emotions like this. They aren’t his, but he likes them. It feels nice, just very weird.

 

“Thank you,” his own voice whispers through the sobs, “thank you.”

 

I’m glad I could help. He responds, a smile gracing his face. There’s emotions and memories flooding back, and some of them hurt. But most of them that engulf him are the ones that are loving and protective and enraged . So so angry, and he can see his hands struggle to keep moving without shaking. Let me take over. 

 

“I don’t…” Wilbur strains, desperate to stay, to keep control so he could keep his brother safe. But he’s growing angrier, more distraught as he looks over his bandaged little brother. He truly is an awful brother. “Okay, okay.”

 

His hands stop their strumming, Ghostbur slowly coming back into focus. Tommy looks so peaceful, so sweet and safe , and his heart swells. Everything used to feel so numb, but the love that Wilbur projects through him is nearly overwhelming. But how did his precious little brother get here? “Can we go downstairs, Phil?”

 

Phil watches him carefully, not aware of the struggle going on within the ghost. “Yeah, c’mon.”

 

They’re quiet when they get down to the table. He wants to ask gently and Wilbur is practically screaming at them, so all he can get out is a strained, quiet, “How?”

 

Phil sighs, slumping against the chair. “We don’t know how he got here, or why he came here. But for whatever reason, he got here and hid in the basement, probably around the time of the funeral.”

 

Ghostbur gasps. “He’s been here that long?” 

 

“Since he got here.” Techno corrects, fingers tapping at the table's edge. “We finally found him less than a week ago.” His nails dig into the wood. “He’s not in good shape, mentally or physically. He’s missing a whole fucking leg and has bruises and cuts that are too well-placed to be any accident.”

 

Techno stands abruptly, knocking the chair over. A hand comes up to cover his mouth, the other in a fist at his side. “He thought I was going to kill him.”

 

Phil’s hands shoot up to cover his mouth, eyes wide and staring at Techno. Ghostbur hands fist in his hair, leaning forward to his knees. 

 

“He’s so, so scared. I want to help, but I don’t want to make it worse.” Techno choked out, clearly trying not to cry. “I already fucked up so bad, what if I’ve fucked it up for good? What if he never trusts me again?”

 

It’s not you, it’s not you

 

“No, no, stop. We should, we should wait, we don’t know what happened.” He’s hyperventilating, Wilbur’s panicking and scared and angry and it hurts . 

 

Yes you do. Remember!

 

“I’m sure he’s a little nervous around us, but. We don’t-”

 

Wilbur is clawing for control, and he screams once he gets it. Both Phil and Techno jump, turning to look at him with their arms open. Techno takes a step forward. “Ghostbur, are you-?”

 

“It’s Dream!” He yells, clutching at his hair so tight he feels he might rip it out. “It’s always fucking Dream, that bastard hurt him again and I couldn’t stop him, and-” He screams again, as he empties the emotions he’s been holding behind Ghostbur for so long. “I failed my baby brother all over again and he laughed . And I couldn’t stop him!”

 

He wails, dark blue tears slipping down his cheeks. “I can’t, oh god, I have to-” He’s gasping for air, pushing the front door open and running into the snow. “Please, I can’t do this, please.”

 

Phil sprints after him, getting to his knees besides him. “Hey, hey, look at me. Wilbur, look at me.”

The ghost turns, looking at him with a confused stare and smile. “Phil? What’s wrong? Why’d you call me Wilbur?”

The blond stares at him, the tears on his face freezing in the cold air. The sound of snow crunching behind him reveals Techno. Huh, when did he get here? “What… what just happened?” 

 

“Hmm? I don’t really know! The last thing I do remember is that I had to take this letter to Techno, and then I remember seeing you guys and then something involving Tommy.”

 

“Fuck,” Techno swears, running a hand down his face. He stares at Ghostbur, who gives him an oblivious little smile, and the hybrid sighs. He gives Phil a look. “We aren’t going to get anywhere with this. Apparently, we have multiple problems to deal with. We should start preparing.”

 

Phil continues to stare at Ghostbur, and presses a hand against his cheek. “Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

 

Techno heads back to the house, and Phil pulls Ghostbur close. “I know you’re scared. We can’t control whether or not Tommy forgives us, but we have to help him, okay? It’s okay if you need time. Just… try to be there for Tommy, okay? He needs us now more than ever.”

 

Ghostbur tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Um… okay. I’ll take care of Tommy.”

 

Phil wipes at Ghostbur’s cheeks, hand coming away blue. The ghost just smiles, pretending not to notice.

Notes:

This chapter ended up getting longer than I expected lol. I hope you liked it!! I read all of your comments and they make me super happy!! :D
Ghostbur/Wilbur is struggling a bit, and Ranboo just wants to help. Ranboo might be a little ooc, but I really wanted to get him involved more.
Let me know what you thought, and thanks for still reading !!

Chapter 4

Summary:

Tommy wakes up. Things are different, things are scary, but hope remains. Hope that he doesn’t have to be alone.

Notes:

Hi guys! Sorry it took me so long to update, life is busy and I also admit to falling in love with Awesamdad and Tommy’s family dynamics. Fic for them probably comin soon!
Anyways tw for this chapter! Be safe!
//panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of force feeding and vomit, mentions of amputations, mentions of emotional manipulation

“Hey, Tommy.” He’s back again. “You haven’t put all your stuff in the pit.”

 

Tommy clenches the photos tighter. “Please,” he begs. “Please not these.”

 

A beat of silence, a tremor down his spine. A cold, blank smile coming up behind him. A gloved hand being placed on his shoulder. “Sure. I’ll let you keep those.”

 

Tommy sighs, relief flooding through him. “Thank you.“

 

“You did forget one other thing though.” The hand on his shoulder pushes him, and falls to the bottom of a dirt prison. “There we go!” 

 

“Wait, no, please!” Tommy cries, clawing at the walls of the pit. Laughter echoes from above, and it almost covers up the sound of hissing, and something being dropped into the pit. He doesn’t need to look to know what it is.

 

Then at the edge of his apparent grave stands his best friend. Tubbo stares coldly, a compass in his hand. He throws it in, and Tommy catches it. Your Tommy.

 

“Don’t worry, Tommy. We’ll all be a lot better off now.”

 

Tommy watches as his best friend turns away, leaving him again, and then there’s a deafening boom beneath his feet, his pictures and the compass fall from his hands, and he screams.

And even when he shoots up from the bed, with the knowledge that it wasn’t real, he cries. He rubs his hands over his eyes, breath hitching as he tries to catch his breath.

 

Dream’s not here. Dream’s not here.

 

And Tubbo isn’t either.

 

There’s quiet footsteps that make their way up the stairs, and Phil pops into the room, a tray in hand.

 

“Tommy?” Phil calls gently, a few feet away from the bed. Tommy sits up straighter, turning towards him tear-stained cheeks. Phil looks tired, but he still smiles at him and holds up the tray. “I made some tea for you. Can I come closer?”

 

Tommy scans him quickly, and although he doesn’t have any weapons on him, he’s well aware that he still has fists. But, he’s got a tray he has to hold, so… 

 

Tommy nods hesitantly, and Phil’s smile gets brighter. He approaches slowly, taking a seat on the chair that hasn’t moved from the side of the bed since he got here. Phil holds out the tray, and Tommy takes the closest cup with trembling hands. 

 

Tommy stares into the cup, but the little light the moon offers through the windows doesn’t help to see exactly what it is. He brings it up to his nose, and it just smells like some flowery shit.

 

So, probably fine. Tommy has gotten pretty good at being able to tell if a weakness potion or similar has been added to something, and this didn’t seem like that.

 

“It’s got some stuff to help your immune system, and hopefully help you sleep too.” Phil explains, setting the tray on his thighs and lifting his own cup. “I can take a sip to prove it, if you’d like.”

 

Tommy shakes his head, pulling the cup closer and taking a sip. Tastes very bitter, and he resists the urge to gag. 

 

“That’s awful,” Tommy chokes out and almost instantly tenses up, but Phil just chuckles. 

 

“Yeah, it tastes absolutely horrendous. Sorry I didn’t warn you.” Phil apologizes, and Tommy relaxes a bit, nodding his head. 

 

This is Phil. Phil wouldn’t hurt him, he’s a good and kind person. He’d never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. He wouldn’t hurt his son.

 

(But he killed Wilbur, and Tommy doesn’t think he deserved that. Wilbur had lost it, but there had to have been a better way than a death sentence carried out by their father. 

 

If he strayed too far from the path, seemingly a lost cause to everyone else, would Phil kill him too? 

 

Dream had said Phil would, given the chance. Tommy shudders.)

 

“I heard Ghostbur earlier.” The ghost of his brother had been humming a lullaby as he watched over him. He likes Ghostbur, most of the time.

 

“Yeah, he’s been here for a day or two. He’s been a little… distraught. He was shocked when he saw you.”

 

“Didn’t think I’d ever be here, huh?” Tommy takes another sip of the tea, and it’s still as horrid as before. 

 

Phil forces a smile. “To say the least.”

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and there’s a question that looks over Tommy the more he keeps glancing down at his lap, avoiding Phil’s nervous looks.

 

He runs a hand over the space where the blanket should be filled out. He had seen it a while ago, after falling out of his bed after a particularly bad nightmare and then not being able to get back up.

 

He hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t yelled. Just struggled to get back onto his bed, and then stared, having a hard time breathing. Cried a bit too, not that he’d admit it. 

 

(Cried a lot, hyperventilated, put his hands to his ears and silently screamed.)

 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t somewhat expected it. The way his foot went from intense pain to absolutely numb as he had struggled through the snow was an immediate giveaway, but he had just pushed down the thought.

 

Get away, get away from him, get away from all the pain, and ignore that it still follows him. Ignore that it might follow him forever.

 

The way it had looked when he had examined it in the basement was horrific. It felt like dead weight, unresponsive to anything he did to try to save it. But he ignored the thought, pushed it back down with the bile crawling up his throat.

 

( He had threatened such a thing if he ever tried to escape. He said he would find him, would catch him, would shove him into a pit and laugh and he wouldn’t even be able to run because-)

 

“My leg’s gone.” Tommy says quietly, tears pricking his eyes, and Phil just about chokes on his tea. As his father splutters and coughs, Tommy continues. “I’m gonna die. I can’t do anything now. I’m useless. He’s gonna kill me.”

 

Phil’s frantically waving his hand, and finally he’s able to catch his breath. 

 

“That’s— not true. No, no, just wait, hold on for a second,” Tommy glares at him, but startles and cowers into himself when Phil stands up. He swiftly moves to the corner of the room, returning to his side with something in hand. “This is something Techno’s been working on. It’s a prosthetic leg, as best as he could make with our limited knowledge of them, but it should get you up and walking.”

 

Phil slowly extends it out to him, and Tommy takes it from him warily. “Really? Techno?” 

 

Phil nods, watching as Tommy's eyes flicker back and forth between him and the prosthetic. “He’s been working on it most days and nights, when he’s not sleeping on it or watching over you.”

 

Tommy let himself focus on the prosthetic, carefully turning it over and examining it. It seemed well-made and sturdy, like the person who made it actually gave a shit if it worked well or not. 

 

Could this really have been made by the same guy who laughed at him and mocked him when he was first exiled? He was sure the hybrid would hate him.

 

Either way, Tommy shifts and holds the prosthetic closer to his chest. If someone’s gonna take it from him, he’s not gonna make it easy for him. “Thanks.”

 

“He’s made some crutches too, but I thought you’d like to see this more.” Phil smiles, and it looks so genuine and so warm that it claws at his heart. But he can’t go crawling into his arms. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

 

(Embracing him, soft and then squeezing and imprisoning and drowning him-)

 

“I’ll come back in a little bit, okay? I’ll bring some food too.” Phil pulls him back to the moment, and he picks something up from the foot of the bed. “Would you like this too?”

 

Wilbur’s coat. One of the few things he has left of him.

 

“Please?” His voice is so small, so desperate. Phil hands it over without hesitation. 

 

“Call if you need anything.” Tommy nods, and with a gentle click of the door shutting, he buries his face into the coat. He sobs quietly, reveling in memories where things weren’t as confusing, weren’t as painful, where he didn’t feel like everything he had ever known was crumbling beneath his feet. His foot. Fuck . 

 

This is gonna fucking suck, isn’t it?

 

(Phil sits just outside his door, head in his hands as he too gets caught up in memories when his children didn’t flinch when he moved towards them.)

Next time he wakes up, he hears gentle humming. 

 

Ghostbur’s hand gently runs through his hair, a coziness in his melody that helps him get his breath back. He didn’t know he’d been panting raggedly, or that he’d been crying, but his brother wipes away the tears.

 

“Ghostbur?” His voice is rough from crying in his sleep. Ghostbur stills, and it seems like he didn’t expect to get caught, a panicked look in his eyes and a sharp gasp tell him.

 

Ghostbur doesn’t respond for a moment, and the panic in his eyes abruptly eases. In fact, everything about the ghost changes all at once, and a sweet smile graces his features. “Oh, hello Tommy! I’m happy to see you awake for once!”

 

“Hi Ghostbur. What are you doing here?” 

 

Ghostbur hums. “I’m here to help you, I think. At least that’s what I want to do.” He looks around a bit, eyes landing on a tray of food at his side.”Oh! I guess I brought you food too. Are you hungry, Tommy?”

 

He feels nauseous and not hungry in the slightest, but the thought of refusing food when he might not be offered it again in who knows how long or—

(“Tommy, are you really not gonna take my gifts?” 

 

A hand runs over his skinny knuckles, and it’d be so easy to break his hand with just a little bit of force. The warmth at his back is comforting, yet Tommy fights down the urge to vomit. 

 

“N-No, that’s not what I m-meant,” He stutters out. “I just h-haven’t been feeling all that hungry lately. I didn’t mean to-“

 

“I brought this for you, you know.” A gloved hand wraps around his fingers. It’s just a little less than enough to snap it. “You’d refuse a gift from your friend like that?”

 

Tommy’s hand quivers and he shakes his head. “Of course not.”

 

“Then. Eat.”

 

Tommy shoves the food down and throws it back up again once the man leaves half an hour later.)

“Yeah, I’m hungry.” His hand shakes.

 

“Yay! It’s just some toast and a little soup, easy on the stomach.” Ghostbur claps, bringing the tray over. He picks up the toast, pressing it to his lips. No blue rubs off his fingers. “Choo choo train!”

 

Tommy accepts the food hesitantly, even if his face flushed just a bit in embarrassment. He doesn’t want to be babied, but he doesn’t want to fight back. Nothing good ever happens when he fights back.

 

Ghostbur looks a little freaked, despite him being the one that did the action. Something in his eyes flash, but he’s back to normal in seconds. “Yay! I’m happy you’re eating Tommy. You’re a bit skinny right now.”

 

Ghostbur feeds him the rest silently, just cheerfully humming as he feeds him. Something’s off about Ghostbur, but he’s always been a little odd. 

 

“Can I hold you?” The ghost asks quietly, breaking their tense silence. Tommy struggles to come up with an answer, curling into himself. 

 

Could he? Ghostbur can’t do any harm. He wouldn’t get suddenly upset. He can’t get upset. He wouldn’t hurt him. Are you sure?

 

“N-never mind.” Ghostbur interrupts his descent, pulling at the edge of his sweater. Blue stains yellow. “It’s probably for the best that I don’t anyways.”

 

“W-wait, um, maybe just a short one.”

 

Ghostbur seems to entirely light up, nervously smiling and scooting towards him, opening up his arms. Waiting for him, letting him do it. 

 

Tommy reaches toward him, hesitantly wrapping his arms around the ghost. His sweater is soft, even if the ghost is cold, and he pulls the fabric into his fists. Arms wrap around him and Tommy tenses, but it’s not suffocating. It’s not controlling.

 

Pressing his face into the shoulder of the ghost, he can almost pretend nothing ever went wrong, that Wilbur is just holding him after a nightmare back in their home.

 

Home. That’s what Wil always felt like. Even now, a shell of what he used to be, he’s still home.

 

He can feel the vibrations of the ghost’s humming, hands rubbing circles into his back. He’s not sure when he starts crying, but his brother murmurs that it’ll all be okay, that he’s here now.

 

When he pulls away, it’s not because he’s afraid. The tears he wipes from his face aren’t all sad. 

 

“Thank you,” Tommy mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. 

 

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s what brothers do, isn’t it.” Tommy hiccups slightly and scrubs at his eyes harder, until Ghostbur gently pulls his hands away. “It’s okay, Toms.”

 

Ghostbur fiddles with his sweater, an anxious look on his face. His eyes go wide all of a sudden, and he mumbles something under his breath. He grabs something on the floor at his side with a tiny, nervous smile on his face. 

 

“Do you want to do something cool?”

 

Although he’s nervous, Tommy immediately brightens. He doesn’t have to do it alone. “Please.”

————

The three of them have been taking turns at watch, keeping an eye out the window for any sign of a threat. Phil is at the window now, while Ghostbur (is he still just that?) is caring for Tommy. 

 

His sword is sharpened. His armor is set up by the door. Carl is relocated inside the house, next to Bessie. Now, all that’s left is to brew more potions. 

 

Technoblade sighs, pressing his palms to his eyes as he waits for the ingredients to dissolve. He feels as though he hasn’t slept in weeks, and it’s probably because he hasn’t, not in any meaningful capacity. 

 

His baby brother died, then he miraculously showed up in his basement half-dead. Found out that Dream had done something to his younger  brother to make him very much not okay . The ghost of his twin is constantly having breakdowns and then forgetting about them. And apparently, people really want him dead (nothing new, but still stressful as fuck when he has to protect more than himself).

 

There’s no time to relax or sleep when his fragile family is in danger of falling apart (again). 

 

(It’s definitely not because he knows he’ll collapse, he’ll panic, he will fall apart the second he thinks he can rest, and he can’t let his family get hurt because of that. He can’t.)

 

The sound of something thudding on the floor above has him sitting back up, both him and Phil worriedly looking towards the stairs. Did Tommy fall? Did Ghostbur have another…? Or something worse?

 

He’s about to go check on them when he hears a click from the door upstairs, and Ghostbur exits slowly, back facing towards Techno. He’s quietly yet excitedly saying something, gently motioning towards himself.

 

Techno gasps.

 

Tommy, shaky and smiling, uses his crutches to very slowly make his way out of the room. Ghostbur is softly praising him as he makes his way to the top of the stairs, and when he makes it to the steps, he pauses. 

 

He whispers something to Ghostbur, and the ghost nods and picks him up, crutches in Tommy’s arms. Phil makes a hushed ‘oh’ as Ghostbur carries him down the stairs, Tommy nervously clutching his brother’s yellow sweater. 

 

The ghost walks his brother to the couch, just smiling happily down at Tommy as the other two gape at them. He sets the younger down, taking a seat beside him.

 

Tommy doesn’t look directly at him, but after a nervous glance in his direction and shuffling of the crutches in his arms, he hears a whisper, “Thank you, Techno.”

 

Techno blinks a few times, and he wonders if he’s fallen asleep and is dreaming. “Of course. It’s….”

 

“What brothers do.” Ghostbur finishes. Tommy’s eyes are puffy, and Techno feels a little knot in his throat as he nods. 

 

“I’m so proud of you, Toms.” Phil praises, voice cracking as he comes to the side of the couch, laying his hand on Tommy’s smaller one. 

 

“D-Didn’t you know I’m a big man?” Tommy says with a small smile, and Ghostbur laughs breathlessly, Phil smiles through the tears running down his face, and Techno feels something lift from his shoulders. “I’m so incredibly powerful.”

 

“Hell yeah you are.” Techno says, and Tommy's smile gets just a little bit bigger. “The strongest man I know.”

 

“Hell yeah!” Tommy says just a little bit louder, bouncing a little bit in his seat.

 

Techno fiddles with the ends of his hair, nervously kneeling in front of his baby brother, who stares down at him with big eyes. Techno’s never been good at this. But for Tommy he can try. 

 

“I’m… happy you’re okay. I, um. Love you, Toms.” He’s quiet and gentle, and it’s strange speaking like this with his chest aching and instincts calling to hold and protect and love the little one. “More than anything.”

 

Tommy looks at him for a moment, biting at his lip and fiddling with his shirt. Then he reaches out with frail, skinny little arms grasping his shirt and pulling. 

 

Techno embraces him like he’s made of glass, a precious thing to be held and treasured. Techno holds him gently, rocks him in his arms as Tommy cries into his neck.

 

“Tech,” Tommy sobs. “I’m scared, Tech.”

 

“I’ve got you, Toms. You’re gonna be okay.” 

 

Techno makes eye contact with his brother and father. They’re all crying, but Techno nods and so do they. A silent promise between the older members of the family.

 

“We won’t let anything happen to you ever again.”

Notes:

Hope you liked it! This chapter had some rough parts but I hope the sweeter parts made up for it :)
Hope to have a new chapter up within the next week or so, or at least I’ll do my to do so. More drama in that one probably!
I appreciate all of your comments and kudos :) they keep me going !!

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed!
Next chapter will have hopefully a bit more comfort than hurt. I’ll do my best to update as soon as I can.
Please leave a comment if you liked it :) it fuels me