"Wil?"

Tommy mumbles.

It's 4am, according to the clock on the wall, and Tommy has found himself to be awakened by the sound of what he believes to be crying.

He lifts his heavy, tired limbs from the couch, dropping the pillow he had held in his sleep, only to look at Wilbur, curled on his side in the bed.

Ah.

It doesn't take long to realize that- Wilbur is having a nightmare.

His reaction is far less visceral and bodily like it had been before, rather, he's just sobbing into the orca he had been holding throughout the entire night. Wilbur's face is all red and dewy; and there's red imprints on his cheek from where the orca had been pressed into his skin.

Tommy had to wake Wilbur up, the last time he had a nightmare- for he began to choke on his own sobs and struggle for breath, whining and shouting and crying- he wasn't even able to communicate in anything more than incoherent rambles that night as he found himself trapped within his own head. It was dangerous for Tommy to not wake him up that day.

But today, Wilbur's completely fine beyond a tremor and a small constant sob, and- Tommy's not sure if he finds this even more concerning. He just- He looks so sad, and drained, and- Tommy just doesn't know what to do. He can't leave him, but, in regards to the best way to approach him right now, he can't say he knows what to do.

And so, he simply settles for holding Wilbur's hand.

It's an action that, while small, has begun to mean alot to Tommy. Pushing aside the fact he's ever so slightly touch starved and just appreciates the constant presence of warmth when his hand is held, it's the one thing that makes Tommy feel completely safe. And, as he squeezes the man's hand in his own, he can only hope that maybe it makes Wilbur feel just that little bit safer too.

Tommy hears another muffled sob. "I'm sorry," Wilbur mutters, "I'm sorry." He mumbles again, burying the orca closer to his face, squeezing Tommy's hand with his own.

Tommy wishes that he could see what was happening in Wilbur's head right now, he really does. But he can't. And he knows that he can't.

And so, he just sits there on the side of the bed, methodically stroking his thumb against the back of Wilbur's hand.

Wilbur jerks up from, god, an awful nightmare before he finds himself vigorously scrubbing at his dewy, wet cheeks with his hands. He'd been crying so much, his cheeks and eyes feel strained and hurt, and the headache isn't helping . The nightmare- god, it was horrific- he was trapped in a black void and standing in front of him was none other than-

Huh?

Wilbur quickly finds himself distracted upon realizing that the room he's woken up to is quiet. There's no unneeded presence by his side babbling about whatever enters his mind, there's no snoring presence asking for 5 minutes, infact, there's no presence at all. Wilbur's on his own.

...

What the fuck.

"What the fuck?"

Wilbur sits up bolt right, looking around the room. Tommy- He's fucking impossible to miss, his head is a bloody highlighter, for crying out loud! He sticks out like a lit torch in a haystack, there's no way he could've gone far.

"Tommy?" Wilbur calls out, walking his way to the light switch. The light makes his head pulse. Wilbur can't think. Where is Tommy? Where is Tommy?

In a distressed motion, he pulls his hand through his knotty curls, hurting his scalp in the process. He just can't fucking think! He needs to think, because Tommy is gone, He can't be gone, please don't be gone, I need him, please don't be gone-

Please don't be gone.

I don't want him to leave.

Come back.

He's left.

He's gone.

Please don't leave.

He's gone. He's never coming back.

He's-

He's-

The bedroom door opens.

"Wilbur? Wil-"

Tommy starts before immediately having a tall figure engulf his own. It sort of hurt. What Tommy didn't know is that Wilbur was holding him so tight to make sure he was really there.

"Wilbur, what?- What happened?" Tommy tried to ask, confused. This is new. This isn't something Tommy's ever had before, ever- he's being held, and, it's weird, and it's different, but it feels so safe, and it's so comfy, but it's new, and it's scary, but it's warm, and- it almost emanates a paternal feeling that Tommy can't explain. "Wil?"

"Don't-" Wilbur chokes out before squeezing his partner. Wilbur's so caught up in himself he doesn't realize how tight his hold is. "Don't scare me like that."

"What?"

"You- I just, Fuck, Tommy, I thought-"

Wilbur breathes in.

"I just got worried, I woke up and- You-"

Oh.

"I- Uh, I was just getting food, I'm sorry, Wilbur, I- You know, I just didn't wanna wake you up." The blond boy tries to explain, only to receive a response from Wilbur that's made up of a huff and a tightened grip.

"Uh, Besides, um," Tommy's tries to change the tone, "I'd be quite thankful if I were you, big dubs, uh- M'just giving you a break, ay? To be honest, even I can't cope with myself for too long, bossman, I was just giving you a little- Tommy intermission."

"No," Wilbur says, flat, holding Tommy close. A distant part of Wilbur is acutely aware that Tommy's joking, but, today- now, at this moment, he doesn't really care. "Toms- I- I don't think I can cope without you- Just, I've- I've just gotten used to you. It's- It's weird to me when you're not there."

Tommy's a little taken aback here. It's certainly not the sort of thing he would have expected to hear this fine morning- A "Get up, Tommy, we need to go," or a, "Shut up, Tommy," he would've expected, perhaps, but certainly not this. Especially not over Tommy just going to get breakfast. Not- not that it's bad, Tommy thinks, it's just- It's different.

Tommy's not exactly sure what he's supposed to do here, and thus, he settles for slowly hugging Wilbur back, resting on the tip of his feet to be more on level with the older man. Tommy's slow and careful, awaiting any sort of resistance from Wilbur- to no avail, as Wilbur continues to hold him. Tommy leans into the crook of Wilbur's neck. It was warm, and it felt as though he fit there perfectly.

"I'd never leave, Wilbur. I like it here."

"Here?"

"With you, I mean."

Wilbur pauses- and then he chuckles. "That's such a fucking sappy thing to say."

Tommy breaks the embrace far too soon, faux-anger plastered across his face. "I- wai- You- You don't get to say that after you just--! Motherfucker!"

"Toms," Wilbur snorts, pulling him in again, much lighter and much more akin to that of teasing; "I'm kidding."

Tommy may or may not have leaned back into the place he rested his head in before, quickly finding peace there once again before beginning to ramble, no heat in his voice, "You- You suck, and I hate you, and you smell bad, and your glasses are dumb and old, and- and-"

...Wilbur is really warm.

"And..."

...

...Tommy finds himself feeling too comfortable to continue.

(If Tommy, by any chance, actually found himself to enjoy being hugged, and almost wanted to cry when they had parted to get ready for the day to come, he's not going to mention it.)

Tommy wants to go see birds.

Why does the boy want to go see birds? Wilbur doesn't know. Why does the boy have a sudden interest in birds? Wilbur doesn't know. Is he going to deny the boy, not allowing him to go out and see birds?

Absolutely fucking not.

"Birds are cool, Wilbur." Tommy begins to babble as they walk around the more quiet parts of Las Nevadas, taking in the parks available. The park of which they've found themselves in doesn't have birds, and thus, the topic arised. "They, they're beautiful, and they're so nice to watch, and I've always sort of liked them but, I only got to see- Like, I don't know, pigeons and shit. The flying rat motherfuckers who'd chase after me and steal my bread."

"The bread you stole, you mean."

"Double stealing is still stealing. Bastards, I tell you."

Wilbur doesn't bother arguing against him: "Never knew you were an ornithologist." He responds, sarcastic.

Tommy stares at him. "The fuck is- The fuck is that?"

"Bird science." Wilbur says, layman's terms.

"Oh, bird science." Tommy understands, "Not just birds. I like animals."

"I've noticed."

And Wilbur has.

His very sudden attachment to Henry, his love for Clementine in Snowchester, his general affinity and preference for animals- It wasn't particularly easy to miss.

It was endearing however, because it's Tommy, and Tommy has a way of making everything inexplicably endearing.

While, yes, it's true Tommy has quite the affinity with cities-- bustling places, large towers, flashy colors and all, the way he smiles in considerably more natural areas is always so prevalent, it's clear where he finds himself to be more comfortable.

"Wilbur," Tommy interrupts Wilbur's thoughts, "That's-"

Tommy points at a cow-- The same one they had seen before, Tommy is quick to recognise. The white spots on its face and body were exactly the same, and it's size was just a little bit bigger than before. He's no longer a baby, he's grown quite a bit.

And of course, Tommy is tommy.

Endearingly stupid Tommy.

He chases after Henry.

And Wilbur, having endeared, and obligated himself to the boy, followed him the entire time.

"We lost him! Again!" Tommy whines, having to bear witness to Henry, his beloved, run off again. Now with another cow, it appears.

"He's got friends to see, I suppose." Wilbur humours, despite his current circumstance- He's out of breath, resting his hands on his knees, for they had run through the entire park, down the street, to another park. Without stopping even once.

Wilbur admires Tommy's energy, just as much as he despises it.

"How did- How did Henry even get this far?" Tommy asked, confused and slightly annoyed they had run so far for what appears to be no reason whatsoever.

"Cow Ex Machina."

"I want my cow."

"It's a wild animal."

"He's my best friend. I will have him."

"There's a bird on your head, Toms."

What?

"What?"

Tommy looks up to see what appears to be a finch; nestled in his messy blond curls. As he looks up, the bird looks down, and their eyes meet.

"Oh."

Tommy looks around to find that this finch is not the only bird in this area.

This park is full of birds.

Holy shit.

"Holy shit."

Tommy turns back to Wilbur, finding that- Not one, not two, but three birds- Doves, Tommy realizes- have nestled themselves into Wilbur's unruly brown mop of hair.

Wilbur looks at himself; the polished steel gates of the park acting as a mirror.

Tommy looks at the ridiculous sight that is Wilbur.

Wilbur looks at the laughable sight that is Tommy.

Tommy closes his lips shut.

Wilbur covers his mouth with his hand.

Tommy giggles.

Wilbur snorts.

And then the two break, interrupting the serene park with their laughter.

As accustomed for the two, the rest of the day was spent wandering around the park eating food from stands placed around. Wilbur spent his time cherishing a crepe, rolled up and filled with chocolate and strawberries, while Tommy enjoyed several types of ice cream, finding particular enjoyment in the caramel flavor, with his sweet tooth and all.

Putting the food aside, the two just...talked. Not that silence was uncomfortable, it had been something Tommy had learnt to enjoy, and something that Wilbur was okay with as long as he knew Tommy was present. It's just, they had a lot to say-- particularly Tommy, who's conversations would range from his favorite bird to the meaning of life, depending on whatever happened to pop into his head. But, of course, one thing was still itching in Tommy's mind. L'manberg.

The two had been talking about where they intend to go next, and thus, L'manberg came to mind once more.

The park was quiet, the only sound present other than the two being the occasional chirp of a passing bird. Tommy could only assume now would be the best time to ask-- While everything was calm, and safe.

"So, Wilbur, uh, I was trying to, y'know, ask this before but- That charlie guy?" Tommy starts, "He said you lived in L'manberg, yeah?"

Wilbur keeps staring forward.

"That he did."

"So- So, um, I'm assuming- So, you did? I remember you saying you visited- Is Charlie getting- I don't know- Is he getting it mixed up? Or something?"

Wilbur has been given an out here.

He's been given an excuse.

But as Tommy looks at him- unfiltered curiosity and care in his eyes, focusing purely on Wilbur.

He's so genuine.

He can't lie to Tommy. Not now.

Wilbur takes a deep breath in.

"No, he- I did. I lived there once."

"You said it wasn't a nice place."

"It's not."

"Why?"

Tommy looks right at him, but Wilbur keeps his eyes pressed forward.

"It's dangerous," Wilbur admits, "For all its happy advertisements or- Or whatever the fuck, it's not safe to be in. It's a place full of hurt. I hate everything about it, Tommy."

Of course, this answer isn't by any means satisfactory, and by god does Tommy want to pry and pry and pry- but he knows at the very least, this is progress. This is something.

"Well!" Tommy cheers, trying to change the tone. He runs forward, just a bit ahead of Wilbur, before turning around to face him whilst walking backwards. "You're out of there now, that's what's important."

Tommy pauses.

"Do you...um, Have family there?"

Whether or not Tommy is asking this out of curiosity or selfishness, he's not even sure himself.

"I don't want to talk about this." Wilbur cuts him short, acting as though the statement isn't an answer within itself. "Well- What about you? Do you really not remember any family? Anything?"

Wilbur pushes it onto Tommy, but the boy is unfazed.

"Nope." He whistles, popping the "p".

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"No."

Wilbur stares at him.

Tommy looks right back at the man, undeterred. "I can't miss something I don't think I ever had, Wilbur."

Wilbur knew Tommy didn't have parents. He explained this when he had met Wilbur; "I haven't got any parents to give me one," and, "Can't restrict this big man when there's no one to restrict me."

And yet today, the way it was said...It hurt.

You can't miss something you never had.

The thought- It made Wilbur want to cry.

"I'm sorry." Wilbur mumbles, unable to think of anything else to say.

"It's totally fine, big dubs. I promise. I mean it when I say it doesn't bother me. And besides, I have you now! You're like my- You know, I don't- I'm not on my own anymore, anyway. So it's all okay."

Wilbur can't help but laugh. Tommy- He's so fucking weird, isn't he? The whole world could be against him and he'd still smile the same way. It's annoying, and it's admirable, and it's scary, and it's wonderful.

"It's all okay." Wilbur repeats.

Tommy simply cheers, running forward again, before starting to ramble, as he does. Everything feels so warm and comfortable again. Everything is so warm when Tommy is just...being Tommy. "Anyway, so I saw this food stand, I was thinking we could--"

Wilbur smiles.

It's all okay.