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“Wilbur?”
Wilbur hummed, spurring him on.
“What do you think everything will be like in, I don’t know, five years?”
“What?”
“Well I mean like, I was just thinking right- You remember how in school they’d always ask you these dumb things like ‘What do you think your life will be like in ten years?’ or shit like that. I never knew what to answer, ‘cause I could never imagine myself doing anything that people seemed to think were like, real jobs or something I guess.”
Wilbur was quiet for a moment, leaning back in his chair and swaying side to side gently.
“I think that’s hard to say. I mean, especially with jobs like ours. The internet is so prone to change, you never know what happens.”
Tommy felt himself slump in his chair ever so slightly, the answer somehow discouraging him more than he thought.
“But,” Wilbur continued, glancing over to his camera to meet Tommy’s eyes, a smile taking over his face, “I don’t doubt that however many changes the youtube algorithm goes through, you’ll be on top of it, dominating the platform.”
Tommy felt his own smile take over his face and he turned to the side, breaking eye contact with Wilbur. “Only if you’re there with me, big man!”
Wilbur laughed, idly strumming the guitar in his lap. “Like I’d ever leave you. We don’t leave each other, right?”
“Never,” Tommy responded without pause.
---
There was a voice speaking to him. It sounded almost angelic. He could hear it everywhere, all around him, inside him. He could feel the voice.
“Hello,” it greeted.
Spinning around in the void, Tommy was met with a great nothing. When he looked down, he could see himself, standing there, but he wasn’t quite sure what he was even standing on. Beneath his feet was a vast, empty space, just like the one that surrounded him, yet it was solid to stand on apparently.
“H-hello?” he replied, voice echoing around him. It sounded strangely weak in contrast to the voice.
“Would you like to see it?”
Tommy stood there, perplexed. “See, uh, see what?”
“Why, the future of course.”
This was, by far, the strangest dream Tommy had ever had, and that was saying something. He considered his overactive nights the cost of his creativity.
“What is all this? What is happening?”
“Answer the question, Tommy.”
This is a dream, Tommy thinks to himself. This is a dream, this can’t be real. So, it doesn’t matter…
“I- yes. I would like to see the future.”
A faint giggle rang out around him, and the darkness swallowed him whole.
---
Tommy gasped awake, and the first thing he noticed is that this is decidedly not his bedroom.
Cold pavement was digging into his back. A cutting wind rushed across his face and stung his nose as he gasped, breathing in deeply. He rolled over onto his chest, pushing himself up quickly. He stumbled a little, placing a hand against the brick wall next to him for stability.
His eyes were wide as they darted around, trying to find any point of recognition. Brick walls bracketed the alley he was in, covered in climbing plants nestling into the nooks between the stones. The ends of the alley opened up into two, yet again, unrecognisable streets.
Tommy leaned back against the wall, hands on his knees. He took a moment to calm his racing heart. He breathed in and out deeply, pressing one hand against his throat, feeling the pulse fluttering against his fingers. Slowly, the pounding in both his head and ears faded to an acceptable level.
Where in god’s name was he? How did he get here?
“Last I checked,” he coughed his scratchy voice away, “I wasn’t old enough to get black-out drunk and wake up in an alley.”
He looked to the left, then the right, and decided he hadn’t the slightest clue where he was.
So he said fuck it and went left.
The alley opened up into a residential street. It seemed so perfectly ordinary, it only stood to confuse Tommy more. It seemed to still be early morning, cars parked in front of houses and lights off inside. The sun was peeking over the horizon ever so slightly, shining down on Tommy’s back. The wind was even stronger here, his breath puffing up in front of him a millisecond before being swept away. He shivered, rubbing his hands together and stuffing them into his pocket.
His right hand made contact with a hard, rectangular object.
His phone.
He fished it out of his pocket at lightning speed, thanking every power out there.
Please don’t let the battery be dead, please don’t let the battery be dead, please-
Tommy clicked the power button and froze.
Dozens upon dozens of messages and notifications greeted him, from every single app possible. He attempted scrolling down them, but when he saw the little bar at the side barely so much as move, he quickly gave up.
He was about to turn the phone off again when he paused, blinking.
No, he thought. I can't possibly have seen that right.
So he checked again. And again. And again. He shut the entire phone off and powered it all the way up again.
It didn't change.
The date at the top of his screen read 17 / 11 / 2026.
That’s impossible, is the first thought that came to his head, quickly followed by this must still be a part of that strange dream, it’s all a dream, surely.
He was dreaming, right? With the voice, and…
Wracking his brain, he tried to think back on what Wilbur once said, all that time ago. The man always loved to gather knowledge about the most random things across the world, and the only thing he seemed to love more was to be able to share it with others. Tommy was always happy to oblige, letting Wilbur’s chattering wash over him.
He recalled a long time ago where Wilbur was fascinated with sleep cycles and the like. He once got started on the topic of dreams and reality. There were several things you could do to check if you were dreaming, Wilbur had told him. If only he could remember…
Fishing his phone out of his pocket again, he opened up his browser.
Signs you’re dreaming:
Push your fingers through the opposite palm.
Okay, seemed a bit silly but undoubtedly easy. He stuffed his phone in his pocket again and gently pressed his fist against his open palm. It was met with resistance. He pressed harder, but still he just pushed against his own hand.
He grabbed his phone again.
Find your reflection.
Okay, where would he even- a puddle, at the side of the street. He stalked over to it, nervous. Leaning over, he peered in and found nothing strange. He just saw himself staring back at him. Wearing one of his regular jumpers, paired with his usual trousers. He looked so terribly like himself.
Pinch your nose, if you keep breathing you’re dreaming.
He was growing desperate now, frantically pressing his nose in between his thumb and index finger. He held it there, and held it, and held it…
When his vision began to swim and his lungs felt like they would explode, he let go, sucking in air gratefully. Paired with the release of inhaling, came the absolute dread settling into his stomach.
He wasn’t dreaming.
His hand, still clutching his phone, dropped to his side lamely as he gaped. He looked up and spun around, scanning his environment. It looked entirely normal, he thought. Far too normal for the situation. He seemed to be in some residential neighbourhood he didn’t recognise.
He couldn’t possibly have actually… travelled through time?
His phone pinged in his hand. He startled, nearly dropping it, barely holding on. Glancing at the screen, at the top of the giant list of notifications, was a discord DM.
Wilbur Soot
So, Phil decided to paint the walls after all. Tech and I said we wouldn’t help him, but I’m pretty sure we are. Can’t make the old man do all that manual labour himself, that would be elderly abuse. Even though it was his idea, I suppose. Ah well. I think you would like the new colour he’s picked.
Tommy furrowed his brows, thoroughly confused. What was Wilbur on about?
He clicked on the DM, surprised that instead of arriving at the message he clicked on, he arrived at his own most recent message, the last one he’d sent, with a bar at the top of the screen cheerily announcing that more than 350 messages were waiting for him below.
He started scrolling.
Wilbur Soot
Tommy, are you there? You said you wanted to call today but haven’t heard from you, it’s getting late
Guess you’re busy or already asleep
Tommy?
Your parents just called me to ask if I know where you are
Tommy please this isn’t funny
Please tell me you’re safe
Tommy? You’re worrying everyone
There’s a three-day gap before the messages continue again.
Wilbur Soot
Why did you go
What happened to you
Why did you leave us
I love you
I miss you
Please come back.
He scrolled on, further and further and the messages just didn't stop. It’s a mix of long and short messages, entire paragraphs filling his screen being followed up by desperate three-word sentences. They seem to switch between ramblings and stories, like he’s keeping Tommy up to date on what’s happening.
When he swiped across one text, his heart skipped a beat, and he scrolled back at lightning speed.
Wilbur Soot
The police declared you dead and closed your case today. They want us to hold a funeral.
Dread curled deep into his gut, jagged claws sinking into the flesh and taking hold. Oh god.
He swiped discord away with shaking fingers and opened his browser for a second time since this strange event had started.
‘Tommyinnit’, he typed.
“TommyInnit was an online… Born April … ”
After his disappearance in November of 2021, TommyInnit was declared dead almost 2 years later in October of 2023 due to a lack of evidence.
Tommy felt like he was going to throw up. He lowered himself down onto the curb he had been standing on for god knows how long now, uncaring of how the cold, wet pavement stained his trousers. He barely even registered it.
Tommy didn’t even consciously realise what he was doing as he switched over to discord once more.
He scrolled down further, stopping at a random message.
Wilbur Soot
The funeral was awful. Everyone was there, at least. The whole dream smp and more. You would have loved it.
More scrolling.
Wilbur Soot
Sometimes I hope the police were right with their original theory, and that you just disappeared. That you’re living your life somewhere across the world, healthy and happy. I would hate you for leaving us, but… not really. Everything is better than… this.
Further down.
Wilbur Soot
We’ve got this dumb therapist called Elijah now. Who the fuck names someone Elijah. Who has an h at the end of their name
Further again.
Wilbur Soot
Elijah might not be bad after all. Still up in the air though
Further.
Wilbur Soot
Today was good. Techno came over again. We hung out, and it was fun. I always feel a bit guilty that we’re having fun without you. I’m talking to Elijah about it though, Phil said I should.
Further down still.
Wilbur Soot
We did it, Tommy. We actually bought the house. The one we always talked about? We weren’t sure if we still wanted to after… after.
We talked about it a lot. In the end we ended up getting it.
We’re moving in in about a month.
A month! How crazy is that?
I wish you were here to celebrate with us.
Love you.
The messages became less frequent as time went on, but they never stopped fully. The last one seemed to have been the one he received earlier, the one before that a week or two old.
But then, there, a flicker of hope.
Wilbur had sent the address of the house. The house they had moved into, all of them, Phil, Wilbur and Technoblade.
His heart soared as he copied the address into his maps application, relieved to find it a small 20 minute walk away.
With a determination he didn’t know he had, he stood up.
Time to go see his friends.
---
After some troubles - because apparently, his phone’s maps app is very, very outdated five years in the future - Tommy arrived at a light blue house. He triple-checked the address was the correct one, before shakily exhaling and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. He shivered and rubbed at his arm. He didn’t have a coat for some reason, and it was the middle of November.
There was a small, waist-height fence surrounding a front yard with some grass and a stone path leading to a porch connected to the front of the house. The morning sun shone down on it, reflecting on the windows and scattering beams of light across the grass.
He reached for the latch on the gate, flinching at the way the winter air had sunk into the metal and made it a biting cold. The gate creaked as it swung open, accompanied by the twittering of some birds in the trees across from the street. His shoes tapped lightly against the stepping stones.
He climbed the few steps of the porch, and then, he was facing the front door
Taking a deep breath, Tommy knocked on the door hesitatingly. The knocks came out somewhat timid, he realised. Maybe they were too quiet. Would they be able to hear? Did he need to knock again? What if they did hear though, he didn’t want them to get annoyed. You know what, he should probably just-
The lock of the door clicked and Tommy nearly jumped out of his skin.
The door swung open, and there, in all his ruffled, barely-awake glory, stood Wilbur. He was clearly older, if only by a little. Tommy inexplicably always felt there was something timeless about Wilbur and the way he looked.
He was wearing soft-looking pyjamas, hair still ruffled and unkempt. He blinked against the morning light, bringing a hand up to shield himself as he peered at Tommy’s general form. He had one hand perched on the frame of the door next to him.
He didn’t look like he was even remotely processing any of what was happening. He might as well have been sleepwalking.
“Yeah?” came the slurred greeting from Wilbur.
Tommy wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but it suddenly dawned on him that he hadn’t prepared anything even remotely close to what he’d say.
“...Wilbur?”
The reaction was immediate. Wilbur’s entire body stiffened, standing upright instead of its drowsy slouch from before. The hand resting against the doorpost pulled back to rub across his face.
Wide brown eyes stared at Tommy. His mouth dropped open.
They stood there for a few moments. Tommy started to fidget with the edge of his jumper. He cleared his throat.
“I-” He cut himself off as soon as he started when Wilbur surged forward, coming to stand on the porch with Tommy. Slowly, deliberately, Wilbur raised a hand, index finger outstretched. Then, almost comically, he prodded Tommy, right in his shoulder.
Tommy swayed back a little from the force.
As much as Tommy’s eyes scanned Wilbur’s face, his expression was unreadable.
The hand Wilbur used to prod Tommy was brought back to himself, reaching over across his chest to pinch himself in the opposite arm.
Wilbur flinched.
His eyes widened impossibly further, breathing becoming heavy and erratic. Stammering, Wilbur opened his mouth.
“T-Tommy?”
Taking a shaky breath, Tommy nodded, peering up at Wilbur with worried eyes and half a smile.
“Hey, king.”
A sob escaped Wilbur’s lips, and he surged forward once more, this time all the way, wrapping his arms around Tommy and holding him there with incredible strength. Tommy, on pure muscle memory and some part of him that ached so terribly, curled his arms around Wilbur in return and buried his face into Wilbur’s neck.
Wilbur continued to sob, heavy breaths sounding almost painful as they were sucked in and violently pushed out of his lungs again and again. He was mumbling incoherently, though sometimes Tommy managed to catch his name in the ramblings.
Tommy shushed him quietly, rubbing his back.
How do you even begin to comfort someone who thought you died years ago?
Suddenly, without warning, Wilbur’s legs gave out from under him. Tommy let out a startled yelp, trying to hold up as much of Wilbur’s weight as possible. It pretty much only helped to soften their fall as they descended onto the wooden planks under them.
Wilbur adjusted his grip as they settled down, clawing at Tommy desperately as if he would disappear into thin air. Tommy’s hand came up to cradle the back of Wilbur’s head, where his face was pushed into Tommy’s chest.
A stumbling came from inside the house, followed by the creaking of stairs.
“...Wilbur?” came the vague call from the house, “who is it?”
Wilbur let out a particularly loud sob, and the stumbling in the house grew frantic, footsteps thudding as they sprinted towards the door.
Tommy looked up just in time to see Technoblade round the corner. Something extremely pained took over Techno’s face, and his breath hitched along with it. Tommy felt his own eyebrow twitch, frowning in a mixture of pity and some attempt at providing comfort.
“Hey, big man.”
Techno simply stood there in stunned silence.
But then another string of mumbled words came from Wilbur, and that seemed to kickstart some sense back into him.
Slowly, Techno lowered himself onto his knees in front of the pair. Delicately, Techno raised a hand, and let it land in Tommy’s hair, burying it there. The hand slowly moved, something in between a ruffle and a pat. Tears were brimming in the corners of his eyes.
Tommy leaned into the touch.
If Wilbur and Techno were here, then surely, not too far behind would follow…
A strangled cry, and Phil came into his vision. Utter relief mixed with something akin to disbelief coloured his eyes. He crouched in front of him. His hands came up to hold Tommy’s face in his palms, slotting himself into place nicely between Techno and Wilbur.
A tear escaped one of Tommy’s eyes from the pure state of them, and Phil quickly caught it and swiped it away with the calloused pad of his thumb.
Carefully, Phil moved forward and pressed his lips to Tommy’s forehead. He lingered there for a moment, before pulling back again. His eyes roamed across Tommy’s face, either looking to recognise it or to commit it to memory. Maybe both. Tommy wasn’t sure.
Wilbur remained inconsolable in his arms, great heaving breaths combined with fat tears staining the front of Tommy’s shirt. Tommy was gonna have to do something or Wilbur might actually just pass out.
Wiggling out of Phil and Techno’s hold as gently as possible, he started shushing Wilbur in a light tone again, louder this time.
“Sshh, Will it’s okay, I’m here, don’t worry. Please calm down for me, yeah?” he cringed at his own words. Calm down, your friend who you presumed to be dead is here, nice going, Tommy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Ssh Will, come on, look at me please? Pretty please?”
He struggled but managed to lift Wilbur up ever so slightly, enough to extract Wilbur’s head from where it was pressed against his chest, and forced the man to meet his eyes. Wilbur was a right sight. His hands twitched as they were still clamped tightly in Tommy’s shirt, shifting the fabric around.
“Hey Will, breathe for me please? 4-7-8, please? In for four, hold for seven, out for eight?” he started mimicking the breathing pattern, repeating it until Wilbur managed to follow along to an acceptable degree.
“Keep going, you got it, there you go. You’re alright man, you’re doing great.”
Techno and Phil seemed to be content enough to watch from the side, hovering as closely as they can, barely letting Tommy leave their sight for long enough to blink. Techno’s hands twitched, as if aching to do something, anything. Out of the corner of Tommy’s eyes, he saw Phil reach out for one of Techno’s hands and grasp it with his own.
Wilbur’s mouth opened, moving around words that wouldn’t leave his throat. Tommy rubbed a finger across Wilbur’s cheek. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere, it’s okay.”
Wilbur’s bottom lip wobbled, and more tears cascaded down his face, but there were no great heaving breaths, so Tommy was satisfied for now. A bittersweet smile passed across his face as he took in the three people around him.
“So…” Tommy started, awkward. “‘Ow do?”
Phil barked out a wavering laugh at the same time as Techno let out a huff of pure indignation, eyes wide as saucers.
“Yeah it’s him alright,” Phil chuckled.
Techno cleared his throat, brows furrowed. “Tommy, I- how?”
Tommy sighed. He shook his head, facing Wilbur once again and passing a hand through the brown curls.
“Now that, is both an incredibly long and incredibly short story, I fear.”
---
Once Wilbur felt right to stand - albeit on shaky legs and with Techno’s support, they moved out of the cold morning breeze and into the house.
None of them let Tommy out of their sight for even a second, even as Tommy wandered around ever so slightly - never going far - to look around the house. It was nice. It looked homey, lived in. Memories are scattered here and there, hidden in framed pictures and marks on the walls and floor. A scratch on the doorpost, a scuff around the living room corner. Pictures of the three of them at various places around the world.
It’s furnished nicely too, style all having little tidbits of what each of them prefers. Tommy’s thrown back into his memories, recalling a time several months ago - that would be years now, wouldn’t it? - where they were all in a discord call together.
A while before that, someone had started the idea of all living together. None of them could get it out of their heads since then, and in that particular call, they had started sending each other pictures of houses and apartments and living styles they liked.
As Tommy observed the house around him now, he thought they did incredibly well. He recognised all of it.
His eyes passed over a cabinet, a myriad of pictures of himself on there. He winced.
Wilbur was dropped off at the couch, flopping down onto it. Phil lowered himself into an armchair across from it. Techno stayed hovering near the doorway. Either blocking everyone in here or keeping something else out. Ever the protector.
Tommy shot him a lopsided smile, and Techno’s eyes shone brightly.
“I like the place. Just how we imagined, yeah?”
Phil swallowed. “I- Yeah. There’s actually…” Phil broke his gaze, shifting to look at his hands as they clasped and unclasped in front of him. “There’s a room for you too, we couldn’t…”
Tommy inhaled sharply. “...Thank you.”
A few beats of silence passed.
“Are you dead or not?” Wilbur blurted out.
“Wilbur!” Phil scolded.
Wilbur chewed on his thumb, gesturing around wildly as if to indicate the whole situation.
“Yeah Will, you can’t just ask a man if he’s dead.” Tommy joked.
It fell flat.
Tommy cleared his throat. “No, I’m not dead.”
“Unless we suddenly start believin’ in ghosts, I feel like that was already established.” Techno offered.
Tommy snorted. “Astute observation. However, I’m-” Tommy sighed, “I’m gonna have to ask you to believe in a whole lot more than that.”
Tommy rounded the couch, sitting down on the opposite end from Wilbur. There was a vague longing in Wilbur’s eyes, and Tommy settled a hand on Wilbur’s ankle. A shiver passed through the man, and Tommy almost removed the hand before Wilbur rushed to hold it between his own.
“What… what happened?” Wilbur whispered.
“Do you- No what I mean is-” a frustrated huff left Tommy. “Do you guys believe in time travel?”
A stunned silence passed through the room.
Phil broke it first.
“You can’t be serious mate.”
“I am. Serious, that is.”
“But what about what you- the conversation we had,” Wilbur’s voice broke on the last word.
Tommy furrowed his brows. “What?”
“You- right before you disappeared, we talked about the future, about leaving. You said we’d never leave each other.”
A shaky sigh passed Tommy’s lips. “I never planned on leaving you.”
“Tommy, we… we all thought you were dead.”
Tommy flinched. He knew they thought it, but to hear it said so plainly…
“I know,” he settled on.
“But then what about-”
“No, you don’t understand, I know, but only because I found out,” he fished his phone out of his pocket. “When I woke up here, it was crazy. Everything looked the same but I had no idea where I was and when I looked at my phone I- I saw the date and just about freaked. I looked up some news, and…”
He cleared his throat, looking around the room at all of his friends. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but I never died.”
The others didn’t respond for a while. Tommy let them process the information.
“You disappeared without a trace. At first, people even thought you just left, but we all told them you would never leave, not without sayin’ goodbye.” Techno said.
Tommy shook his head, disbelieving. “Of course not. I’d never leave, and god, if I did, I sure as hell would tell you. Hell, I’d ask you to run with me.”
“The police believed us. They… they ran the theory that you died. At first, it was just disappearance, but it took too long with no evidence. They declared you dead,” Phil said.
“I can- I mean, we could show you the file,” Wilbur muttered.
“What?”
“I… upstairs, I have the police file.”
Phil scoffed, upset. “You promised to get rid of it!”
“I couldn’t, okay!” Wilbur exploded.
“Hey, hey,” Tommy interrupted, “it’s all good. It would be… good, if I could see the file, yeah.”
Wilbur sighed and stood up, extracting himself from where he was curled up on the couch. He padded over towards the hallway, paused to shoot a look at Tommy, before dashing up the stairs. Heavy footfalls resounded through the house, stumbling, and Wilbur raced back at record speed, skidding around the corner. A heavy breath he’d apparently been holding rushed out of him when he saw Tommy exactly where he’d left him.
A wrinkled manila folder was in his shaky hand. Tommy silently reached out for it.
Folding it open along the worn crease, Tommy’s eyes skimmed over the words.
It was… unnerving, to say the least. It was clinical, perfect. It was also, quite honestly, very thin. It was clear there was nothing to be found when it came to evidence. There were five years of interviews, statements and evidence in the frighteningly empty folder, but none of it led anywhere.
The most disturbing section was the final one. It was a list of running theories, almost all describing his untimely demise in various ways. He decided to skim that section.
Tommy swallowed past the blockage in his throat, closing the file again and letting it drift onto the table in front of him.
“I never… none of that is true.”
Tension seemed to leave the room.
“But then, how…”
“I don’t know, I truly don’t.”
Techno cleared his throat. “But you said… you said time travel. How does that even…”
“I don’t remember much. I just remember blacking out or something. I think I heard this… weird voice, but I can’t remember any of the words. I thought it was a dream. Then I woke up here.”
The room was silent once more.
Then Wilbur clapped his hands, face hardening. “It- doesn’t matter, you’re here now, that’s what matters.”
“I would hardly say this doesn’t matter, he-” Techno stuttered, disbelieving.
“No, Wilbur’s right,” Phil agreed, smile growing wider as he looked over at Tommy, “Tommy’s here now, and that’s what counts most.”
Tommy laughed. “Good, because I believe I have five years worth of stories to catch up on.”
Wilbur scoffed, reaching forward and grabbing Tommy’s phone, “Yeah and about six generations of phone, my god this thing is ancient.”
Tommy squawked indignantly, swiping at his phone that Wilbur just held higher, out of reach. “I will have you know-”
“Short gremlin, 6’1-”
“6’3 you prick-”
“It’s like he never left-”
Tommy tackled Wilbur into the couch.
---
He’s shown to his room shortly after, and it’s extremely disorienting. Purely because every fibre of his being, and he feels that that of the others as well, screamed that this room was supposed to be his. That fourth bedroom, that final puzzle piece. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be here all along.
The room is empty.
He imagined it doubled as a guest bedroom, because it wasn’t entirely empty, not in that sense of the word. A bed was pushed into the middle of one wall, two nightstands bracketing it. A closet against the opposite wall. A chair with a lamp next to it. Even one quite pretentious looking painting.
The room may not be empty, but it sure was blank.
It was like an empty canvas they never got around to filling.
Tommy stepped in, socked feet sinking into the carpet. He dug his toes in. A shiver crept across his spine.
Tommy turned around, smiling at Wilbur. “Thank you,” he said simply.
“Yeah, it’s- you’re welcome. You can put your stuff down- wait, actually, where is your stuff?”
Tommy let out a humourless chuckle. “Came here with nothing, big man. I found my phone in my pocket, but that’s it.”
Wilbur frowned. “Well you can’t walk around in the same clothes every single day, can you?”
Tommy froze. He hadn’t exactly thought about that. Ever since he came here it had been one foot in front of the other: find out where he was, find the others, explain what was happening. He hadn’t even begun to think about what to do now. How long would he be here anyway? Surely it wasn’t permanent?
How would he even continue his life after disappearing for five years? He can’t well go back to streaming and uploading to youtube as if nothing happened. Everyone would ask questions, the police would show up, and everything would go wrong.
Let alone the fact everybody was five years older while he was still the same age. He didn’t want to establish his role as ‘resident child’ even more, thank you very much.
Tommy’s inner crisis must have been visible on his face, because Wilbur snapped his fingers and pointed at him, muttering a quick ‘wait here’ before dashing away to a room down the hall.
Tommy looked around the room some more while he waited. The window had an excellent view into the front yard and the street. The sun had risen up much further in the sky, and Tommy guessed it was approaching mid-day soon.
Turning around, he hesitantly clambered onto the bed, sitting there to wait for Wilbur.
Wilbur didn’t take very long, rounding the corner with a pile of sweaters in his arms, which he gracelessly dropped into a heap on the bed, in front of Tommy. Tommy stared at the pile, before slowly dragging his gaze up to Wilbur, who looked proud as a peacock.
“You can use my clothes for now!”
Realistically, Tommy thought he should probably put up a struggle. Be the loud child, shout how he doesn’t need the hand-me-downs or whatever. But one more glance at the giant pile of sweaters in front of him, soft and adorned with patterns so very Wilbur, he decided you know what, fuck it.
He picked a sweater from the pile and changed into it quickly. The sleeves fell over his hands, the article of clothing slightly too long for Tommy. It bunched around his hips, and he struggled to push the sleeves up his arms, heavy fabric falling down again and again. Sighing, he gave up. He looked up, met Wilbur’s eyes, and quickly realised his mistake.
Wilbur was almost visibly preening, looking far too pleased with himself. His hand twitched at his side in what Tommy can only imagine is an intense urge to hold. Tommy sighed fondly.
Sticking his nose in the sweater and breathing in Wilbur’s scent, he mumbled “Thank you, Will…”
A positively radiant smile took over Wilbur’s face. “You’re very welcome.”
---
Tommy spent the next several days getting used to the house and letting the others in turn get used to him.
During dinner the first day, Tommy had to tell them all to please cut out the staring.
The morning after that, as everyone stumbled downstairs and Tommy mumbled a heavily slurred ‘good morning’, they had to quickly console Phil that no, it wasn’t a dream, I’m here.
Luckily, it only became easier from then on. Tommy slotted into the house and their company easily, as if he was always meant to be there. And with a jolt, Tommy had realised that that was more true than he realised. This was their dream and had been for a long time now. They had carried it out without him, pain in their hearts, but now he was here. Like they had planned and always wanted.
It was as amazing as Tommy had spent many days and nights wondering about. It wasn’t entirely the same, of course. It was occasionally still very noticeable that Tommy had, from their perspective, risen from the dead.
Those moments left the tension palpable, all of them clinging onto him for dear life.
Excluding those moments, however, it was just perfect, like he’d wished.
It was cooking dinner with Phil, playfully threatening to put sugar on the potatoes instead of salt. It was playing bedwars with Techno watching over his shoulder, receiving tips and pointers and getting his hair ruffled with a ‘good job kid’’ when he did something well, having to hold himself back from letting out the sunshine in his chest because Technoblade just praised him. It was loudly criticising bad movies with Wilbur, disagreeing with him on some things just to get that rise out of him, the indignant glance over the shoulder making him laugh even harder than the tragically poor plot points unfolding on screen.
And other moments, it was as domestic and casual as any other family.
“Guys! We’re out of bog roll!”
Tommy’s shout echoed through the house, followed by the flushing of a toilet. Tommy closed the door behind him, shuffling towards the living room. He rounded the corner, coming face to face with Wilbur. The emotion on Wilbur’s face made Tommy halt in his steps. He held up his hands placatingly.
“Look man, it’s just toilet paper-”
Wilbur waved his hands about wildly. “No no, it’s… I just can’t believe you’re actually here, sometimes.”
Something in Tommy softened. He padded over quietly, lifting his arms. Wilbur leaned back onto the couch, sitting down on the side, welcoming Tommy with open arms. Wilbur let his cheek rest on top of Tommy’s head.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Tommy mumbled.
Wilbur sighed. “...I know. Just- indulge me.”
Tommy nodded against Wilbur’s chest, sighing contently. Wilbur’s not the only one craving a hug, sometimes.
Tommy felt for all of them terribly. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain of losing one of them. Sure, he came back, and technically - he thinks - it wasn’t real, but… it was real for them. They went through that, five long years of thinking your friend was dead and Tommy couldn’t even begin to imagine the terrible hurt that came along with it.
Just showing up at their doorstep and saying ‘guess what guys, not dead after all!’ isn’t going to fix years of hurt.
Tommy wished so badly he could help them. But it’s not a physical pain, he knows that. There’s no magic cure, no wound he can put a plaster on and cover with his hand and imagine scabbing over before healing completely.
There is no physical manifestation of his death and the grief that followed and-
Wait a minute.
“Wilbur?”
A hum, reverberating through a chest, reaching his ears.
“I have an idea.”
---
The four of them stood silently in the graveyard. The late evening sky was dark, stars barely visible behind grey clouds promising rain but just barely not delivering on that promise. A fog rolled across the grounds, ominous and ironically thematic. It was quiet, as all places like these are. Some people were milling about in the distance, but it was calm, nearly deserted.
They were standing side by side, gazes heavy as they looked over the black gravestone in front of them.
“Well, that’s depressing, innit?”
“For god’s sake, Tommy-”
“What?! I’m not exactly dead, am I?!”
“Yeah but we thought-!”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
Tommy walked over to the gravestone, purposeful. He stared at it for a moment, taking it in. It had a classy, sleek look almost. If you could say that about gravestones, at least. He shrugged and then, with terrible aim, kicked at the stone roughly. Surprisingly, he managed to take a small chip off the corner.
He rebalanced himself, settling his hands on his hips with a satisfied huff. He turned back to his friends. They looked to be in various states of baffled, worried, and constipated.
“Does this count as a crime?” Techno droned out.
“It’s my grave, innit?” Tommy rebutted.
“Well yeah but-”
“My grave, shut up.”
Phil, Wilbur and Techno still stood frozen, sharing doubtful glances at each other and their surroundings.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, get over here.”
Nobody moved.
“Now!” Tommy commanded half-heartedly. He plucked a stone from the ground. He threw it up into the air and caught it again. He hummed. Seems heavy enough.
Techno was the one to step forward. Tommy plopped the rock into Techno’s hand, who shot him a questioning look.
“Throw at it.”
“Wh-”
“Throw!”
Techno threw.
The rock bounced off of the gravestone, directly in the middle, leaving a nice notch in the middle of it.
Tommy laughed. “Guys look, now I’m Tom Si-ons!”
Phil pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Consider this therapy for all of you.” Tommy began collecting various rocks he deemed worthy, handing one to each person there. Lining up nicely, Tommy lifted the arm with his own rock in it.
“On the count of three, we throw. One-”
“Tommy I’m really not sure-”
“Two.”
“There’s no way-”
“Three!”
Four rocks launched at the polished black slate. One barely clipped the side, one landed exactly into the groove Techno’s previous stone had left there, followed by one right next to it, and another on the other side of it, slightly above.
It caused a beautiful crack to run straight through it from the top left to the middle right side.
“That’s what I’m talking about!”
“Tommy you can’t shout this is a graveyard-” Wilbur chuckled.
Tommy stepped forward, casting relieved eyes over his friends, who were all laughing. He walked up to the grave standing right in front of it, before pausing. He turned around, bowed to his friends, and smiled mischievously.
“And now, gentlemen, it’s time for the grand finale.”
He turned to the gravestone, and with a kick he believed c!Techno would be proud of, dislodged the entire upper half of the stone across the crack, causing the whole thing to collapse.
It made a terrible clatter, and Tommy fell over onto his side from the force of the kick, but he didn’t care. He was laughing too hard, and the disbelieving chuckles behind him were only spurring him on.
He rolled over, heaving himself up. He clapped his hands and rubbed them on his pants, getting rid of the damp dirt on his palms.
His gaze passed over his friends, whose stances seemed ever so slightly lighter. He splayed his arms wide.
“Therapy,” he said cheerily.
---
“I can’t believe we just did that,” Phil said, giggling as they stumbled back into the house. All of them had mirth written across their faces. Tommy had hoped his plan would do something, anything. He hadn’t expected it to work this well, but hell if he wasn’t grateful.
“If the cops show up tomorrow I’m not home,” Techno groaned, flopping onto the couch, followed quickly by everyone else positioning themselves across the living room.
“Well I sure as hell am not either then,” Tommy quickly added.
“Why?” Wilbur screeched, “It was literally your idea!”
“Wilbur. Wil. William. If the cops show up tomorrow asking about the destruction of a grave, and the person to who the grave belongs answers the door, how’d you think they’ll feel?”
The room erupted in laughter. Wilbur tossed a pillow at Tommy, who caught it and clutched it to his chest.
“Okay, maybe you have a get-out-of-jail-free card too.”
“Ha! Literally!”
“Oh shut.”
It was silent for a little, everyone content to just sit for a moment.
“You know,” Tommy started again, “I think that if this is what the future is like, I’d be happy.”
They all glanced over to him. Wilbur smiled.
“Me too.”
He cast a warm look across his friends, sitting here with him, in their house. He gently patted the arm of the couch.
“Goodnight, guys.”
A chorus of ‘goodnight’s followed him as he turned around and walked up to his room.
He collapsed in his bed, tired, but so very happy.
---
Tommy groaned, his head pounding. He brought up one hand to rub over his face. Blinking open his eyes, he took in his surroundings.
He was back in his room, in his house. His old house.
He shot up in his bed, throwing the covers off of him. Looking around frantically, everything seemed to be in the exact same places he’d left them. Youtube plaques on the walls, cupboards flooding with trinkets. He spotted his phone on its usual spot on the nightstand. Snatching it off, he frantically clicked the power button. His eyes skimmed over the date.
17 / 11 / 2021
He was back. Back to his own time.
He jumped out of bed, raced over to his desk and threw himself into the seat so fast the chair wheeled away from the desk. Scooting back over, he frantically shook his computer mouse, powering his PC back on. His leg was bouncing up and down wildly, knocking into the desk above it every once in a while and making his water bottle on the corner wobble dangerously.
When his computer finally fully turned on, he wasted no time in switching to discord, looking up the sleepy bois group chat and hitting the call button.
The call rang out, one, two, three seconds…
The call connected, one person picking up, before discord plinged two more times in rapid succession.
“Hello?”
“Tommy? Are you-”
“Everyone’s here, right-?”
“Guys!” Tommy called out above the clamour. “That- we all remember that, right?”
It was deathly silent for a few seconds.
“I- yeah. Right?” Wilbur’s hesitant voice came through.
“I mean, I think so. We’re all talking about the same thing right?” Techno added.
Phil coughed. “We have to be, no way we’re not.”
A collective release of breath passed over microphones.
“Hey Tommy,” Wilbur called out.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t you fucking dare ever die on us.”
Tommy cackled.
---
“Tommy! Time to wake up!”
Tommy groaned, grabbing his pillow and holding it over his head, drowning out the sound and light of the rest of the world.
“Tommy!” the voice echoed further down the hall. He’d really have to listen, but he was just so comfortable. But if he doesn’t respond, then inevitably-
Tommy startled when his door flew open, throwing the pillow off his head, revealing Wilbur looking far too pleased with himself.
“Good morning Tommy,” Wilbur drawled, looking far too pleased with himself.
Tommy sighed and pressed his face back into the pillow. “Mmbf, p’ick.”
A muffled laugh from Wilbur, and then two hands prying his precious, precious pillow away from him. He reached back out for it longingly, pouting.
“No no, little gremlin children need to get out of bed. No more sleep for you.”
Exasperated, Tommy threw his arms to the side, letting them flop uselessly on the mattress. “Gremlin child? Still? I’m literally 22!”
“Yes, of course. 22-year-old gremlin child.”
Tommy sat up and stared Wilbur down, defiant. “Oldbur.”
Wilbur gasped dramatically, clutching at his heart, he stumbled about the room, half crumpled over, before finally, with very little grace, flopping down on top of Tommy, who let out a small ‘oof’.
“How will my old man bones ever recover!” Wilbur cried out.
Tommy shifted, groaning, trying to move Wilbur’s elbow so it would stop digging into his ribs. “Get off me you ass! You’re heavy!”
Wilbur rolled over, annoyingly still managing to stay on top of Tommy with his lower half, trapping Tommy’s legs. He batted his eyelashes at Tommy innocently. “Why, I thought you wanted to stay in bed?”
Tommy blinked at him. Then, carefully, he grabbed Wilbur’s face, holding it in his palms.
“Wilbur,” he whispered, “my darling Wilbur.”
“Mmh?”
“Politely, perish.”
Wilbur gasped. “Hey, what did we say about those jokes today?”
Tommy frowned, glancing to his side at his phone. He picked it up off the nightstand, clicking it on.
17 / 11 / 2026
“Oh… crap, I’m sorry Will.”
Wilbur huffed, but a content smile was on his face. Tommy relaxed slightly.
Wilbur wrapped his arms around Tommy tighter, nuzzling his face into his chest. Tommy laid a hand across Wilbur’s back, stroking it languidly as he closed his eyes again.
Tommy wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a throat was cleared from the doorway, and he blinked one eye open again.
Technoblade was leaning against the doorpost, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Greetin’s, The Blade,” Tommy mumbled.
“I told Phil this is why we need to stop letting Wilbur try to wake you up.”
A cheeky grin spread across Tommy’s face. “I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re on about.”
Techno raised an eyebrow, gazing pointedly at Wilbur. Tommy glanced over. Wilbur had somehow managed to tangle his legs around Tommy’s, curling himself inward.
Tommy sighed. “He had the nightmare again, didn’t he?”
Techno cast his eyes to the floor, face downturned into a frown. “Yeah. Be nice to him today?”
“I’m always nice, I’m just such a good person, Tech-no-blade. The best, even.”
Techno let out a small chuckle, before wagging his finger condescendingly and tutting. “Tommy, how could you? In the presence of Philza Minecraft, the only man ever?”
Tommy steeled his face, turning it stony and serious. “I have made a grievous error. How can I atone for my sins?”
Techno laughed, before strolling into the room, giving the bed a soft kick. “You can try getting out of bed, for one.”
“Ugh, fiiiine.”
With a small pat on Tommy’s leg, he turned around and left the room, footsteps thudding down the stairs faintly.
He rubbed his eyes with a sigh. No more procrastinating.
He looked down at Wilbur, who was still sleeping soundly on his chest. His breaths came out evenly, and Tommy could faintly feel them against his exposed arm. A small smile crept across Tommy’s face. Gently, he placed his hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, shaking it softly.
“Wilbur, hey, Will-” a muffled groan, “come on, uppie time.”
“F’ckin- ‘uppie time’?”
Tommy shoved at Wilbur’s face. “Oh shut up, you.”
When they finally stumbled down the stairs, shoving each other lightly, they found Techno and Phil sitting at the table, chatting lightly. Breakfast was laid out, scrambled eggs and some slices of bacon, a pile of toast further down.
Tommy glanced at the bacon, then up at Techno, and the corners of his mouth quirked up.
“My oh my, Technoblade.”
Techno looked at him, confused, before following his gaze and looking at the bacon. He leaned back in his chair, exasperated. “Please Tommy, for once in your life, just this once-”
“How could you do this to your brethren, Techno!” Tommy cried out, taking his seat at the table.
Sighing, Techno grabbed the spatula from the pan, scooping a heaping pile of eggs onto Tommy’s plate. “Eat.”
“Okay,” Tommy cheerily relented, thoroughly pleased with himself, stabbing a piece of egg with his fork and popping it into his mouth.
The rest of breakfast passed peacefully, as it usually does. Random conversation topics alternated rapidly, but that was just the way they liked it. It was their home, and it fit them perfectly.
After breakfast, Tommy headed up to his room. As he stepped inside, he paused for a moment, just taking it in. He could still remember the way it was when he first saw it. The blank walls, a clear canvas with no one around to fill it.
And now, he looked around, and he saw memories everywhere, memories he was a part of. Dozens of pictures were plastered on the walls. Years of memories, from the past five but also long before that.
Pictures of discord calls, first meetings, random packages they sent each other.
Pictures of plane tickets, suitcases and moving boxes.
A picture of all of them, standing in front of the house, proudly holding a set of keys.
Together. Because they will never leave each other.