Work Text:
Tommy was having a perfectly ordinary day when the DM came in. He had just grabbed some water and was preparing for a day of editing his latest vlog. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to pull an all-nighter, they generally ended up wrecking havoc on his sleep schedule and mental health. But he needed to get the video done today; it was the main thing stressing him out.
As he pulled up the video footage — he and Tubbo had gone to an obstacle course and messed around for a few hours — he heard the familiar chime of a DM coming in. He didn’t really want to bother answering it — he was finally focused and didn’t want to get pulled back down the rabbithole of Discord conversations — but it could be important. If it was, he would feel awful for ignoring it later.
Navigating back to Discord, he picked up his glass of water and took a sip. It was a DM from Wilbur, and Tommy’s face lit up. He still wasn’t over the fact that he had friends who not only liked him, but reached out to him in the same way he did. Who needed him just like he did them. He clicked on it, grinning in anticipation of whatever Wilbur had wanted to show him.
The DM was three short words, but it knocked the wind out of Tommy.
Can we talk?
The words were reminiscent of terse discussions with his parents that ended with all of them upset; calls to the principal where they told him his behavior wasn’t good enough; final conversations with friends where they said he was too much. Suffice to say, Tommy had very few good memories associated with that phrase.
But Wilbur wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t break Tommy’s heart so easily. Because Wilbur was a good person, and he was Tommy’s brother. Tommy was overreacting. With trembling fingers, he typed out a reply.
Of course big dubs, what do you need?
‘Wilbur is typing’ appeared almost immediately on his screen.
Hold on, I’ll call you
Tommy wasn’t freaking out. He was not nervous, not having a panic attack or anything of the sort. He needed to breathe, he knew that. He was overreacting, Wilbur probably just wanted to talk about some new song or something. But Wilbur had DMed him to talk about songs before and it had always been much more casual — a short ‘hey what do you think of this?’ with a song file attached. It was never as formal as this was.
The call began, and he joined with apprehension. Wilbur was standing in the recording studio, the rest of Lovejoy standing with him. Distantly, Tommy noted that they seemed nervous about something.
“Hey sunshine. We-” Wilbur motioned at the rest of the band, “have an announcement.” Tommy grinned at the pet name, nodding along. “We’re doing our first real concert!” The rest of the band grinned, and Tommy’s eyes lit up. A Lovejoy concert.
“Dude that’s-that’s so cool! Where? When?” He bounced in his chair a few times, mind absolutely delighted. Wilbur had — in private, of course — been talking about the prospect of a concert for months and Tommy was absolutely thrilled.
“The O2, in a few months,” Mark replied, shooting Tommy a grin.
“The O2? Bro, that’s so cool! Can I come, can I?” As he said the last few words, he noticed Wilbur shooting a glance at the other band members. Oh. He quickly opened his mouth, ready to take it all back and apologize profusely. It wasn’t their fault, they probably didn’t want a 17-year-old who played Minecraft at their first real concert. But before he could, Wilbur cut him off.
“That’s exactly what we wanted to talk to you about. If your parents are alright with it, we would love to have you with us. You would get to go backstage, and have first-row seats and everything.” Oh. That wasn’t what he was expecting. “Not that you have to of course, you obviously have stuff to do.” Wilbur seemed nervous, tapping his fingers. At once, it clicked. Wilbur was nervous because he thought Tommy was going to decline or something. Which — respectfully — was bullshit. Tommy would never pass up an opportunity to do anything involving Wilbur, let alone Lovejoy. They didn’t call him the Number One Fan for nothing.
“Are you-jesus Wilbur, of course I would! This is a once in a lifetime chance. Not only do I get to see a remarkable moment — the first concert of the best band — I’m a premium guest. Can you believe it?” Wilbur gave a laugh, looking at Tommy with so much overwhelming fondness.
“Okay, the concert’s on November 17th. Talk to your parents and see if you can make it!” Tommy gave a nod. They exchanged goodbyes as usual, and Tommy left the call with a grin on his face.
Shutting off the computer, he leaned back with an ecstatic sigh. He was going to a Lovejoy concert. It was as if all his dreams were coming true, and he was over the moon. He should edit the video, but he was too keyed up to ever think about doing such a thing. Opening his DMs with Tubbo, he sent the other boy a message talking about how great of a day it was and how Tubbo should ‘seize the opportunity.’ It didn’t make much (or any) sense, but the brunet would get a kick out of it.
At some point, Phil went live and Tommy slid into the VC and began talking. He liked being on Phil’s streams; the chat was generally calmer and Tommy could feel more relaxed. Phil talked about his hardcore Minecraft plans, and Tommy teased him about his ancient age. As far as streams went, it was nothing special — no ridiculous bits or anything of the like — but the monotony was comforting.
As the stream was coming to an end, Tommy’s mother called him down. He said goodbye to Phil and left (although not without one last ‘child’ remark from Phil, the word dripping with kindness) to go eat.
“So, Tommy, how has your day been?” His father asked. They didn’t understand the internet that well — or at all, really — but they tried.
“Good. I got an invite from Wilbur to do something.” He tried to sound casual, but the excitement was clear behind his words.
“Really? What is it?”
“Well him and Lovejoy are giving their first concert — at the O2 in London — and they invited me to go see it,” Tommy explained, fidgeting nervously. There was no reason his parents would say no, but it still caused some anxiety.
“Sounds lovely! When is it?” His mom asked, glancing at their calendar.
“November 17th,” he replied, glad it was going well so far. Glancing at her calendar, his mom winced.
“I’m sorry, Toms. We’re spending those few weeks with my family.” Tommy paused, staring at his mom. Her side of the family were…less than ideal people to spend any amount of time with. They would constantly go on lengthy tangents about shit like vaccines and sexuality, and if Tommy tried to express any opinion they disagreed with, they would yell at him for hours. He didn’t want to spend a few weeks with them no matter the circumstances — let alone when they were keeping him from a Lovejoy concert.
“Do we have to? We saw them for all that time in April.”
“I know, Toms, but it’s Jessica and Daniel’s anniversary and they want us there.” Tommy gave a sigh. He doubted that was true. From the amount of times they’d complained about his career choices, his parent’s career choices, and his family in general, Tommy was relatively sure they didn’t want to see any of them ever, to be honest. They probably just wanted to save money on childcare.
But he didn’t bother bringing it up, it was an argument he wouldn’t win. His mom had a soft spot for that side of the family. There was no good reason for it — they treated her like absolute shit — but arguing would do nothing. Putting his dishes away, he went upstairs and sighed. He knew there would probably be other concerts; missing one wasn’t a huge deal. But it was the first, and Wilbur had invited him specifically. He didn’t want to let his brother down.
Which led to a new fear. Wilbur would probably be annoyed with him. After all, he’d been so nervous to tell him, and Tommy just wouldn’t be able to do it. And the rest of Lovejoy would probably be all disappointed and annoyed.
Tommy’s phone dinged, a DM coming in. Fuck. He knew he should check it, but he was just trying to spiral in peace. Why couldn’t everybody just leave him alone? After staring at the ceiling for a little while, trying to convince himself to just click on the DM — it would probably be Tubbo laughing at his message or something.
Reaching over, he clicked on it. It was not a DM from Tubbo. Instead, it was Wilbur.
What did your parents say about the concert?
That…was not what Tommy wanted to see. This was the exact opposite of what he wanted to see. He was heavily tempted to just click off the DMs; put it in a little box to deal with later. But Wilbur would get annoyed if he didn’t get a response. And then when Tommy had to break the news, Wilbur would already be annoyed and everything would be harder than it already was.
But he could do it on his PC, at least. He got up, sitting at his chair and pulling up Discord. He really wanted to do it over DMs — where he could minimize the message and pretend to ignore it — but on VC, at least he could judge Wilbur’s reactions better. Doing it over VC was for the best. At least, that was what he told himself as he called Wilbur.
The man picked up immediately, looking with worry at Tommy.
“Hey sunshine, is anything wrong?” Tommy worried his lip, looking at his brother’s distressed face.
“I told my parents about the concert.” He paused, anxiety getting the better of him once again. Wilbur — clearly picking up on it — gave him a nod of encouragement. “We’ll be going to see Daniel and Jessica. I’m sorry.” At that, Wilbur let out a disapproving noise. It was the kind he made when he saw people on Twitter getting mad at Tommy for nothing, or somebody was rude to somebody he cared about. Tommy began to panic. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Wilbur’s disappointment.
“First off sunshine, I can see you panicking. I’m not mad at you, I promise. But you don’t have to say sorry. It’s not your fault, and — more importantly — even if you were the one who made the decision, you wouldn’t have to be sorry. Family comes first.”
Tommy scoffed. “I’d hardly consider them ‘family’. They were the ones who came over in April.” Wilbur’s growl let him know that he remembered them very well.
Tommy had called the man at 7:30, tears streaming down his face. When Wilbur picked up, frantically asking him what was wrong, Tommy had replied that his uncle, Daniel, was yelling at him about how it was a disgrace to the family that he was a Minecraft YouTuber. Wilbur had calmed him down, and they ended up staying on call all night. The next day, Wilbur picked him up and brought him to Brighton for a few days. Suffice to say, the man wasn’t the biggest fan of either of them.
“Well sundrop, it’s a shame you have to spend time with them. We’ll miss you, it’s practically impossible not to, but we’ll be back soon. Don’t even worry.” Tommy gave a small smile at that, curling up in his chair.
He and Wilbur talked for a little while longer, before Tommy’s yawns began to get more and more pronounced.
“Tommy, sweetheart, please go to sleep,” Wilbur laughed, looking at the exhausted boy.
“But-wanna talk to you.”
“Tommy, you’ll be the death of me. I’ll be right here tomorrow, and the day afterwards, and for as long as you need me. I’m not going anywhere.” Tommy gave a nod. Later, when he was in bed and on the verge of falling asleep, he realized that all his worries had gone away. Wilbur had the ability to do that, like some magic spell he would cast.
He hoped it would last.
—
Tommy was upset he couldn’t go to the concert. Of course he was. But he wasn’t prepared for how much it hurt. A tweet went out on the Lovejoy account, announcing the concert.
@LVJYonline: You didn’t hear it from me, but there might be a concert happening soon. Everybody who’s everybody will be there, so make sure to keep tuned!
He knew it was a bit. A marketing tactic. He wasn’t an idiot. But the words still hurt. Because the fact of the matter was that no matter how many times Wilbur told him it was okay; they weren’t bothered by it at all, everybody else would have this experience. And Tommy just wouldn’t. Instead, he would be yelled at by his aunt about how it was time for him to get a ‘real job’; whatever the fuck that meant.
—
The closer it got to November, the more distant Wilbur started being. It wasn’t too bad, he always came back extremely apologetic and would stay on call with Tommy long into the hours of the night, but Tommy couldn’t stop thinking about how it could be so much better if he would be going. Instead of watching distantly, he could be there. Instead of this being just a hint of what was to come, it would be a small obstacle in his path.
He cried himself to sleep a lot more often.
—
The day of the concert was a specific type of hell. Tommy had managed to get the day to himself and was watching people livetweet about it. It seemed to be going great, and Tommy was filled with pride. Until it was quickly replaced yet again by sadness. Because they were all there, and Tommy wasn’t.
He didn’t sleep until long into the night, thoughts plagued by the concert and how much he wished he was there. He wanted to cheer when Perfume came on; clap for them; sit backstage and offer teasing reassurance to Wilbur to calm him down from the stage fright Tommy knew he got.
But instead he was with people he hated, crying himself to sleep again.
—
The worst part was right afterwards. People tweeted out, talking about how ‘everybody was there’ and it felt like they were right. Tubbo, Ranboo, Phil, Kristin, Niki, Jack, Scott, everybody in the UK showed up. Except Tommy. Some people pointed it out — speculating about a potential argument or something of the like — but they were quickly shut down.
—
Tommy was finally back home. Wilbur had come back recently, but they hadn’t seen each other yet. And Tommy…Tommy wasn’t doing too well. He was looping Pebble Brain on repeat, trying to hide his tears. From who, he wasn’t sure, nobody was in his room and he wasn’t doing anything all day, but he didn’t want to cry.
As if his thoughts had jinxed it, a knock rang out on his door. Dabbing at his eyes, he paused the music and yelled for the person to come in. His mom walked in, giving him a small smile.
“There’s somebody at the door for you.” Standing up, he pulled on his shoes and headed downstairs. He hadn’t made plans, so this was unexpected. He opened the door to…Wilbur. He was standing at the door, shooting Tommy a gentle smile. Tommy felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders at just the sight of Wilbur.
“Hey Toms, go sit in the car real quick, alright?” Tommy gave a nod, climbing in the front seat. As he watched, Wilbur seemed to be explaining something to his mom, who gave a laugh and a nod, waving Wilbur off. The brunet got in the car, and they began to drive.
“Where are we going?” Tommy asked, leaning back in the seat.
“It’s a surprise, moonlight.” Tommy rolled his eyes fondly, causing Wilbur to retort.
They continued bantering the whole way there, until they arrived at the recording studio. Tommy’s interest was immediately piqued as he followed Wilbur to the room where the rest of Lovejoy was standing.
“Since you missed the concert, we thought we would give you a personal one.” Tommy’s eyes lit up as he turned around to Wilbur. The other man was anxiously fidgeting, but at the sheer joy in Tommy’s face, he relaxed. They got on stage and began.
It's 3:45 (AM)
And I just bite my tongue
Update me on your life
And now you've found the one
But I don't like his eyes
And I distrust their name
And I hate their haircut
They look like a prick (a prick)
At the familiar melody, Tommy began to tear up. This was — as Wilbur had told him on late night calls, his song.
But it's all the same
Will it be daft of me to cry?
Your tongue is razor sharp
I miss when it would fight mine
Left your heart on standby
By the way he holds you
Bet he serenades you
I can't really blame you
He swayed to the lyrics, looking at some of his favorite people in the world. Tommy felt so content, and it was an amazing feeling.
And I can still smell her perfume
Did it rub off on you?
And I can still smell her perfume
Did it rub off on you?
Wilbur shot him a smile, and Tommy sighed a sigh of sheer happiness. His brother — the person he cared about most in the world — was right there.
You say your ex-boyfriend's a policeman
Well, I say you need better standards
You say your ex-boyfriend's a policeman
I say you need better standards
Wilbur had played that verse to him on a late-night call, asking him if it was any good. Tommy had gone on a tangent for hours about how much he loved it, until Wilbur laughed and said he got the message. The memory felt like it happened ages ago, but Tommy loved it.
It seems like all our friends
Abruptly fell in love
And she was in the dust
Darling, life was streaming past
So she learnt to lie
She learnt how to pretend
A drama in the futile
A means to an end
He could feel the tears from before rising up. But unlike the sadness of before, he was just happy.
Why can't you be a dick?
Why must you be so nice?
It's hard for me to move on
When I don't really hate you
(I don't really hate you)
(I don't really hate you)
(I don't really hate you)
He was crying in earnest now, the tears streaking down his face. It had been so long since he’d cried — in any way — and now he couldn’t seem to stop.
And I can still smell her perfume
Did it rub off on you?
And I can still smell her perfume
Did it rub off on you?
He glanced up, where Wilbur was looking at him, face full of concern. He gave a vague motion, hoping it would convey that they should finish the song. He was fine.
It's 3:45
Your taxi's not arrived
And I don't think that he's coming
The song finished, Wilbur ran over to Tommy.
“Hey dewdrop, are you alright?” His voice was so full of concern, and it just made Tommy cry harder.
“Wilbur I just-I love you so much.”
“I do too, sweetheart.”
And that, the simple reciprocation of love, was what broke Tommy. He cried for what felt like hours, and Wilbur held him tightly all the way. Tommy was home.