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The backyard was quiet, eerie in a sense. The cool breeze brushing past the brothers who sat on old swingsets and forgotten structures of their youth. The two sat behind the large house, big enough to fit a family of 6 easily, but snug enough to feel claustrophobic at times -
Although the members of the family could tell anyone that the house felt claustrophobic, suffocating, dense, tension running through the hair and choking it’s inhabitants - for other reasons.
The windows were dark, all of the lights out except for the dim basement lamps. LED’s ran through Wilbur’s bedroom, which took up three-fourths of the basement. The warm room was never dark, as Wilbur opted to keep the LED’s on at all times, warning off nightmares and intrusive thoughts.
The basement among other rooms of the large, suffocating house, was inviting to Tommy.
However, instead of the basement, where they would usually spend their “late night vibe sessions”, they spent it out in the backyard, laughing, smoking - in Wilbur’s case, and looking at stars.
The elder of the two sat on one of the old, creaky swings - the kind that had paint chipping off from years of abuse - lightly swinging back and forth as he hummed a song that he most likely made up. Doing all this, while carefully bringing a cigarette up to the tip of his mouth, grinning as he released his breath of white smoke into the atmosphere.
Tommy, on the other hand, sat on an old, long-abandoned treehouse, presumably made for children much younger than himself. His legs dangled out of the open-wall, swinging back and forth as he listened to Wilbur hum softly. His fingers danced across the dark wood, tapping out a beat to the song Wilbur was humming, mindlessly chewing the inside of his lip. He looked up at the stars, softly smiling at the familiar smell of tobacco and dewy grass.
Tommy’s favorite nights were spent out in the backyard, laid out in the grass, cool breeze flowing effortlessly.
“Why’d Schlatt say he couldn’t make it again?” Wilbur asked, looking up at his brother, who’s back was now laid on the wooden floor of the treehouse, staring up at the night sky. Quietly he mumbled, adding on; “Doesn’t feel right lighting up without the bastard.”
Tommy answered, propping himself up on his elbows. “At his moms’. She lives too far to walk here, and you know he feels bad about taking her car.”
“Right. The mothers’ house. Forgot.” Wilbur looked down, stomping out his dull Marlboro with his boot.
The brunette contemplated lighting another, but closed the pack and decided he would wait for Schlatt to return on Monday. Taking a sip of his water, he looked back down at his hands, and asked, “What’s Tub up to tonight? Strange you aren’t attached to the hip.”
Tommy laughs, a light, airy laugh, “First of all, Fuck You. Second of all, he spends the weekends with his mom, remember? She doesn’t work on Saturday Nights, and Sunday Afternoons. Tubbo and Eret always hang out with her.”
“Right. I forget that their mom doesn’t have a weekday off.” He kicked his feet on imaginary pebbles, grinning.
Tommy grinned right back, “You’ve known the bitch for 10 years.”
“Doesn’t mean I know his mother’s work schedule.” Wilbur rebutted, teasing, as he yanked a hand through his fringe.
“She’s had the same schedule for the 10 years we’ve known her Wilbur.”
“Has she now?” Wilbur looked up at the treehouse.
“I would know bitch. I’m Tubbo’s best friend.” The blonde looked down at his brother, managing to not burst out in tired laughter the moment their eyes met.
The two shared shit eating grins, Wilbur returning to picking at his nails, and Tommy laid his back to the dark oak, staring at the constellations, reciting the stories Techno had told him in his head.
After several minutes of comfortable, and welcoming silence, Tommy broke it with a question, “Hey Wil?”
The brother in question turned his head to face the blonde, forehead resting upon the cool metal chains holding the swing up. “What’s up Tom?”
“Who built the tree house?”
Wilbur coughed, “Pardon?”
“I said, who built -” Tommy repeated.
“No, I heard you the first time.” Wilbur looked at the teen incredulously, “I’m just surprised you don’t know.”
“Well I don’t. So just tell me bitch.” Tommy grumbled.
Wilbur held back a sigh, “Dad did.”
Tommy couldn’t hide his pure shock. “Dad did? Our Dad? The same one?”
“Yes, the same one, you idiot.” Wilbur laughed. “He made it with Phil.”
“How old was I?” Tommy gaped.
The brunette snickered, “But an embryo, my dear brother.”
“You’re kidding.” The younger deadpanned.
“Afraid not Toms. I vaguely remember that Mom used to lounge on the deck over there,” Wilbur pointed to a long-abandoned area near their front lawn. “And watch Dad. Make sure he didn’t get hurt.”
“I was in the womb when you got to build this cool ass tower?”
“Well, it’s not a tower, and I technically didn’t build anything. That was all Phil and Dad. I did help paint some of it though.” Wilbur’s gaze flickered to the wall behind him, “I painted that yellow wall.”
“Dad seriously built it?” The blonde looked up with uncertain eyes.
Wilbur replied, “Yeah. Spent weeks on it. Built it from scratch. I just watched. I was only 4 - but Phil painted the rest of the thing. I remember he got paint on Dad's favorite jeans, and didn't even get in trouble - I was so fucking mad.”
"You must be kidding." Tommy couldn't believe Wilbur. Was this the same man that Tommy knew?
Wilbur shook his head. "Techno probably remembers a bit of it. Maybe not the actual building of it, but he definitely remembers Dad playing with him and Phil up here. Dad came up here a lot the first year or two it was built."
"This is my Dad? Our Dad that we are talking about?"
"Yeah! I don't know why you don't believe me." Wilbur scoffed, kicking his feet in the dirt.
Tommy stared down at him, with a knowing grin, "Why the fuck do you think I don't believe you? Dad has never -"
Tommy was cut off by Wilbur yelling, "Speak of the Devil" at Techno kicking the backyard gate open.
The pink haired teen was gingerly sipping a redbull, at this unearthly hour, holding two more. He walked over to Wilbur, handing him one of the energy drinks, the grey one, before climbing onto what he has dubbed 'his platform' - which was the level between the slide and the ladder. Tommy made a grabby motion with his hands, before Techno tossed him the last can, the sugar free kind, with a smile.
"Techno -" Wilbur started, mouth full with the sugary drink, "Tom doesn't believe that Dad built the tree house."
"Oh, this old thing?" Techno's tapped his knuckles on the wooden structure, "Yeah, Dad spent a lot of time there for the first year or so." Sip of his drink, "Why?"
"Just, I don't know." Tommy continued chugging the yellow-ish liquid, before looking down at his feet, "I never knew Dad. Didn't think he was like that."
"Oh yeah," Wilbur started, clearly missing the look that Techno shot the brunette. "Dad was around a lot until I was about 9, then he just left or some shit. Like I know."
There was a moment of silence, with brief sounds of sips, and coughs. Tommy sniffed, still looking down, and ran his free hand through his mess of blonde hair.
"Is it - is it my fault?" A small voice squeaked from above the two teens.
"No, no, no! Toms, what made you think that?" Wilbur started, waving his hand around.
"You did dipshit -" But before Techno could finish, Tommy started talking.
"I don't know. He was around a lot more until I was born. He started working his insane hours when I turned 5. Maybe he hates me or something."
"No." Wilbur stated clearly as day. "He is just a shit dad."
"Why did he become a shit dad?" The question, while unexpected to come from Technoblade's lips, was a question that had been lingering within the boys' air.
Tommy stared at the dark oak for a long time, tempted to do something he might regret. His hands squeezed into fists with the tension. Giving a glare to the wood, with a small smirk adorning his features, before he -
Both older brother's heard a small mumble of "can I -" before they heard something crumble, and fall onto the thick grass bed below the tree.
Tommy had broken a small part of the tree house wall. With his foot.
He looked wide-eyed, still cautiously holding his drink in one hand, and using the other to shake himself out, while he jumped up and down atop the wood floor. He ran his free-hand through his hair, with a small grin, and an airy laugh.
Tommy silenetly mumbled, “Fuck yeah.” in awe of his work.
"oh shit -" Techno whispered, before Wilbur shouted, "YEAH TOMMY"
"Why does he get to be a fucking bad Dad to us? What gave him the right to be shitty?" Tommy asked, in a normal tone, before shouting, "SUCK IT DAD" and kicking the wall down.
The blonde was practically vibrating, as he grinned with ease.
"YEAHHHH" Wilbur Screamed, surely waking up some of the neighbors, chugging the rest of his can, and punching a piece of the wooden roof.
"COME ON TECHNOBLADE!" Tommy yelled.
"yeah" Techno tried, before scoffing and smiling at his brother's antics. "YEAH" Techno screamed.
"YEAH" Wilbur and Tommy shouted in unison.
Tommy laughed easier and fuller than he had all week, seemingly years of his life releasing weight off of his shoulders. Techno and Wilbur quickly climbing onto the rotting structure, as all three brothers screamed profanities and let their years of trauma out.
“FUCK YOU” Tommy held out the “you”, silent tears of joy and releif running down his face, knowing that if he looked at either brother they looked the same way.
Things Would Be Okay.