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Tommy scrubs at his bloody cheek, eyes swimming with tears.
Today has been absolute dogshit. Man, it really feels great to wake up in the morning, go to school, get pushed around in the hallways, and then at the very end — watch his best friend get punched in the fucking face. Tommy- Tommy wasn’t having that, despite Ranboo’s fruitless efforts to hold him back from the upperclassmen who really, really needed to be knocked down a peg or two million. Tubbo was staring at him with a newly branded purple-rimmed eye, which’ll definitely become a black eye by morning.
What? Was he supposed to stand back and watch the older get bitch-slapped by some dude who's been terrorizing the three of them for the past two weeks? The guy didn’t take long to begin throwing and landing punches.
“Tommy, no,” Tubbo cries, shaking hands guarding his bruising eye, “It’s not worth it.”
“What?” he replies, outraged, and the junior looks at the two with an evil grin that beats Techno’s. “You mean you aren’t worth it! Bullshit!”
“Please,” an arm wraps around Tommy’s waist, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tommy turns to face his other friend. Red and green eyes meet his. “He’ll hurt you too.”
School hasn't even been going on for that long, and that’s what makes Tommy angry. He, Ranboo, and Tubbo are normal fucking kids and these idiots who are teasing them everyday after school are making Tommy want to commit tax fraud.
He doesn’t regret it, despite what his friends may think. The two of them — one of them bleeding, one ridden with guilt for not helping the other — fussed like mother hens, telling Tommy they should walk home with him.
Tommy had shook his head, shooing them off to go back to their house, which they shared. Ranboo lives with Tubbo, and their house is a considerable amount of time away from Tommy’s.
“I’ll just use the medkit under my sink,” Tommy shoves away Ranboo’s hands. “I can climb into my room instead of the front door so Tech and Wil don’t see. Or Phil.” Tommy tacks on.
God, he can only imagine his family’s reactions if the three of them saw the youngest’s injuries. His knees are scraped from the harsh concrete when he was shoved onto the ground, bruises painting his shoulders and arms — he’s matching with Tubbo regarding the big-ass, annoying bruise slapped onto his left eye. There’s also a large gash on his temple to boot, and he’ll have to smuggle the makeup in Techno’s room to his bathroom so he doesn’t get interrogated for his injuries in the morning. Besides the physical injuries, he’s also really fucking tired. He could use a good cry, a good sleep, and he’s lucky he has no homework — finished it all in class — so this means he can hide away from his big brothers until tonight. He’ll just say he’s not up for talking, not up for having dinner with them tonight.
It’s a bit of stretch, and it’ll be hard to steal enough makeup from Techno without having the senior noticing, but Tommy’s only got such a good deal of cards. He’ll count his blessings and take what he can get.
Tommy nibbles at his bottom lip, a strange feeling pooling in his chest — something akin to exhaustion, nervousness, and guilt — he knows his family will be angry someone hurt him, but he doesn’t know if they’ll be angry at Tommy for practically instigating it. He doesn’t wanna see Techno’s disappointed eyes for not fighting back, or Phil’s gaze when he finds out his son got in a petty argument with someone Tommy doesn’t even know the name of.
He doesn’t wanna let them down, and the best way to do that is to just have them not know he was in a fight. Simple.
He approaches his house, noticing the lights on inside — he climbs the tree right outside his room’s window slowly, hesitantly; Tommy’s afraid of getting caught. His fingers grip the white, bitten wood of the windowsill, prying the lock open and lifting it upwards. He wipes off the drops of blood left on the wall, inhaling nervously. Pulling himself inside, he stills, eyes wide.
Techno — fucking fantastic, absolutely amazing timing — rests on Tommy’s bed, one foot crossed over the other, reading a book. It’s like that scene in Spiderman, and it’s almost laughable. Tommy’s there, right after crawling into the room, bleeding and injured. “ Fuck.” Tommy mumbles, all the air in his lungs completely gone. He’s pretty sure he died and his ghost floated up to heaven. Seriously.
Techno hums, feigning wonder, “Hey, Tommy,” his big brother says, tapping the upper corner of his book, “Where have you been?” He still hasn’t looked up.
“I- uh-,” Tommy is shaking — his voice is trembling, and this is exactly what Tommy didn’t want — about to fall onto his ass, and it comes out unexpectedly. “ Tech-”
Techno looks up in confusion at the spike of emotion, and his eyes widen into the size of plates, “Oh, God, Tommy,” he pulls himself to his feet, book forgotten, and he grasps the sides of Tommy’s face. “Wait, don’t cry, don’t cry,” he chants quietly under his breath, his fingers prodding Tommy, searching for more bruises. “Tommy, Toms, you’re bleeding,”
Techno sounds so rattled. Angry, angry at whoever did this to him. Confused. Tommy’s heart aches for not telling him at first; he begins to feel awful he planned to hide his injuries from them when Techno sounds far from mad at Tommy himself. Techno gasps, when he pulls Tommy’s curls out of the way of his forehead — spotting the gash that has been bleeding, his skin absolutely covered in red. The liquid is running down the side of his face, and he wonders how he didn’t notice this at first.
“I need to get Wilbur,” Techno says, tightly, “After I get Wil and we fix you up, I’ll tell Phil.”
“No,” Tommy says, hurriedly, voice sharpening into a desperate sob, “You can't tell Phil- you- don’t tell Wil- I-”
“Tommy,” Techno says, seriously, red eyes dark, yet worried simultaneously, “They won’t be mad at you. They’re not going to be angry. They’d never be angry at you for something like this. I need to tell him, I need to tell Wilbur, because he can help get those injuries fixed.” Techno pauses, “Besides, he’s been studying healthcare, he’ll know what he’s doing.”
Fat, bright tears roll down Tommy’s cheeks, sniffing, and he rubs his nose with the side of his wrist, nodding. Techno pulls Tommy to his bathroom, sitting him on the counter, and cups his cheek, checking him over once more.
“I’ll be right back, stay here.” Wiping away a few extra tears, he hurries off to Wilbur’s room. It isn’t that far away, just down the hall, shooting by the family photos hung on the wall.
Techno pushes open the door, not bothering to notice as it slams against the wall. Wilbur looks up from his laptop, pulling out an earbud. He glares at Techno angrily, “What the fuck is your pro-”
“Tommy got in a fight,” Techno says, grabbing Wilbur’s wrist and pulling him out of his chair. “He’s bleeding and bruised, there’s a big and bloody gash on his forehead- I need your help.”
He watches the color drain from Wilbur’s face, and Wilbur books it to Tommy’s bedroom like a madman. Techno rushes after him, and sits in the opening of the bathroom door, finding Wilbur’s already pulled the kid into a hug. Tommy’s got a quivering, red-colored hand in Wilbur’s curls, his head snug in the crook of his neck, and Techno hears Wilbur whispering to Tommy as the blonde cries into his shoulder.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Wilbur whispers, “Darling, don’t cry, it’s alright,” Another broken sob rips from Tommy’s chest, “Must’ve been scary, huh? It’s okay, I’ve got you,”
Techno approaches them, ruffling Tommy’s curls as he crouches in front of the cupboards under the sink, pulling his medkit out. Wilbur pulls away, one hand still gripping Tommy’s.
They stay there for a while, Wilbur applying pressure to the open wound on his head, Techno pressing bandages onto the scrapes on his knees. Tommy cries throughout it — and it hurts the hearts of both brothers — scrubbing at red-rimmed eyes with his bloody hands. Wilbur gasps, gently grasping his fingers, and he washes away the red liquid with the water from the sink.
Eventually — Tommy falls asleep due to exhaustion, his cheeks crimson and blotchy. Once Techno and Wilbur finish patching him up, Techno scoops him into a bridal carry, and they place him in Wil’s bed, wrapping him in one of Techno’s hoodies — surrounding him in Wilbur’s throw blankets.
Phil cries when they tell him what happened. Wilbur stares at his hands, his own voice choked and strong at the same time as he whispers Tommy was injured by some kid at school. Techno would call Ranboo and ask what the hell happened — but it’s way too late at night, and he’s definitely already asleep. Techno feels an indescribable amount of guilt for not being there, for not being there to stop the asshole that did this, for not being there to protect him, especially when that’s Techno’s job when it comes to Tommy. He’s sure Wilbur feels the same way, even so with the emotion glimmering in hazel eyes underneath his glasses — there’s drops of water on there from Wilbur’s tears — and Techno wants to make that bully cry.
The same way they made Tommy cry. The same way they made Phil cry. Wilbur.
Techno stares at his dad, eyes promising. “Dad.”
Phil’s emerald eyes gleam sadly, “Tech.”
He gestures vaguely to him and Wilbur, “Can we..?”
Philza glances to the side, to Wilbur’s bedroom door, where his youngest is sleeping peacefully. The kid deserved it after what happened to him. “Don’t get caught.”
He meets Technoblade’s eyes, then Wilbur’s. “Throw a few punches in for me, will you? I don’t want to get sued.”
Techno grins something sharp, and Wilbur’s eyes narrow in challenge. “You got it.”
——
Techno grabs Tommy’s shoulders, and Wilbur gazes at the kid lazily over his brother. “Tommy,” Tommy swallows. “Who did this to you? You’re not going to school today.”
Tommy looks like he wants the floor to rip open and swallow him whole. “Techno-”
The pinkette grits his teeth, tossing his braid over his shoulder, sitting on his backpack. They’re about to leave for school; Tommy’s taking a sick day for obvious reasons. The brothers plan to corner Tommy’s bully and rock his goddamn shit, but they don’t know who it is, and Tommy won’t tell them. Why? Techno doesn’t know.
Wilbur steps in, “Tommy,” he whispers, “we want to help you, and the only way to do so is if you tell us who did it. Whoever hurt you needs to be paid in kind.”
Tommy’s shoulders slump, and whispers out the name that did it.
——
Dream — a good friend of Techno’s who's already in college — stays home and watches Tommy to make sure he’s keeping watch of his wounds. Philza couldn’t because he had work, so Techno had to go around calling some friends if they were available. When Dream had arrived at their house, the blonde had fussed over him, pulling him into a gentle hug, and told Techno to give ‘em hell for me, would you?
Techno throws a punch to the fucker’s face, decking him straight in the nose. He’s on the varsity football team — that definitely hurt. Wilbur may not be a varsity football player, maybe not labelled hottest kid in school, but he’s a hell of a good musician, and he’s not fucking up his fingers for some jerk like this.
So he kicks the prick in the nuts. Problem solved.
The idiot falls to his knees, gasping. Techno glares at him darkly, teeth bared.
“What are you guys doing this for?” he dry heaves, coughing up blood. “What did I ever do to you?”
“Oh, shut the hell up,” Techno growls, and Wilbur places a relaxed hand on his chest. “You hurt my brother- you bullied and abused a fourteen-year-old kid.”
The junior’s eyes widen, scrambling back in fear. “I- that was you guys’ brother? Tommy?”
Techno places his black boot on his stomach, pressing down with a grin. Wilbur chuckles, and it sends a shiver down the pinkette’s spine. “Yeah. Don’t fucking touch him.”
And he won’t. He won’t, ever fucking again.
Wilbur makes sure to punch him straight in the skull, knocking him out. “That was for Phil and Dream.”
Techno nods. “Let’s go home.”
——
Tommy throws his arms around the two of them, pulling them in close. “ Thank you.”
“No problem,” Wilbur whispers sweetly, a hand carding through his curls. Techno stays quiet, pulling the youngest closer.
Phil watches them, one hand propped up on the stairwell. “You gave him hell?”
Wilbur and Techno look up, both of them sporting matching grins; They are twins, after all.
“Of course.”