The three boys entered the crowded bar. A few feet in front of the door was the bar, which was very illuminated, despite having two candles on it, each on two opposite corners. On the opposite side of the bar, about fifteen feet away, was a stage, where Wilbur was finishing up his song. In the space between the bar and the stage were about ten circular tables, each having four stools surrounding them. On each table was a small white tablecloth, and a small candle in a glass casing, providing just enough light for the patrons to see each other and their meals. In the far back wall was a hallway, possibly leading to bathrooms. There were two small chandeliers above them, one near the hallway, and the other near the entrance to the bar. They weren't as big or ornate as the ones back in the palace, but they provided a decent amount of light. 

The bar was full, with just about every table full of patrons drinking and eating, and all but one or two barstools in front of the bar taken. Tommy was silently thankful for the fact that it was so busy since it'd be harder to spot them that way.

Ranboo walked behind the bar, talking to the bartender while he helped clean the counter. The bartender had raven black hair with a white headband to somewhat keep the mess in check, and dark blue eyes—almost black in color. He wore a white dress shirt, and from what Tommy could see black dress pants. 

Like Ranboo, the bartender had two small red horns protruding from his forehead, and a wire thin tail with a red flap of skin that was in the shape of an upside-down heart.

Tommy's eyes widened when he saw the bartenders wings.

He's a phoenix...

Phoenix's are extraordinarily rare avians, with one being born in 100,000,000 avians. The chances are slightly higher if both parents are phoenixes, but that was near impossible in itself.

"Tommy, look." Tubbo's voice pulled him from his thoughts, and looked to where he was pointing. There was Wilbur and Schlatt, talking to each other. Both of them had stupid grins on their faces, the type of stupid grin he remembered Mother and Father giving each other when they were in a particularly flirty mood.

As the current singer finished their song, Wilbur looked at the stage, then looked back at Schlatt. He then said something to Schlatt, kissed him quickly, and walked to the stage.

Tommy's and Tubbo's jaws hit the floor.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Tommy screeched.

Tubbo shushed him as half the bar looked in their general direction, including Ranboo, the bartender, Schlatt, and Wilbur. Thankfully, neither Schlatt nor Wilbur saw them, and if they did, they didn't say anything.

"I—how the fuck can you be calm when our brothers are making out!?" Tommy exclaimed, slightly quieter now.

"I'm not, but at least I know not to make ourselves known!" Tubbo argued, looking around. "And besides, maybe it was like those rich families that kiss each other's cheeks when they say hi?"

Tommy blinked. "No offense, Tubbo, but you're a fucking idiot. I've seen my parents kiss each other like that whenever they have to go somewhere enough times to know that's not a platonic kiss."

"Well, how the fuck am I supposed to know that?" Tubbo asked rhetorically. "Both my parents are dead."

Neither of them liked how eerily quiet the bar got at that moment. You know those times where you're talking to someone in the busy room and it's a personal conversation and the room gets weirdly quiet? That's what's going on in this moment.

"Um, anyway," Tommy said, avoiding the remark from his friend. "I want to hear Wilbur sing at least once tonight. Erase their makeout session out from my brain."

"They weren't—"

Before Tubbo could finish his sentence, Tommy heard Wilbur strum his guitar. He looked at the stage—and his brother—and moved closer.

"Let me die, let me drown, lay my bones in the ground,
I will still come around when the time for sleep is through,"

Tommy's eyes widened as he heard his brother sing. He knew he could sing—what Nightingale couldn't?—but Wilbur never sang to them. Never sang to him. The most he heard was humming from his brother, or muffled singing from outside his bedroom, but nothing more. Definitely nothing as clear as this moment.

"Every tomb, every sea, spit the bones from your teeth,
Let the ransomed be free as the revel meets the day,"

It was like Tommy was seeing his brother in a new light.

It was as if, in another life, his singing was known worldwide.

It was as if, in another life, he wouldn't have to sneak away just to be the person he was.

It was as if, in another life, he wasn't shackled to the duties of being heir to a throne he didn't even want.

It was as if...as if the three weren't brothers. Not born brothers, anyway.

"To and fro, I will not follow,
Where you go, I will not also,"

"Tommy," Tubbo's voice rang in his ears, not that he cared to listen, "you're crying."

At this moment, he didn't care. He was swimming in an ocean of hurt.

But why was he hurt? Why was he upset? That they might not be brothers in another life? So what? They're brothers in this life, isn't that what matters?

"I will look for you as the sun rises higher,
When the dry bones dance with the timbrel and the lyre,"

But...in this life, his brothers don't care, do they? Or, at least, it doesn't feel like they do. They're so busy all the time, with Father training Wilbur to become king, and Techno trying his damndest to get into the guard--despite Father's protests.

"Where I go, will you still follow?
Will you leave your shaded hollow?"

At least in another life, they cared. As much as they may claim they didn't, there was no denying the brotherly bond that was within the three boys.

They weren't related, but did that matter? Brothers in spirit, not in blood.

That bond in of itself is stronger than anything else on earth.

Part of him wished that bond was available now.

"Will you greet the daylight looming,
Learn to love without consuming?"

Tommy wiped away his tears as the song finished.

Those were thoughts for another day.