Predator (DWT x OC)

59

The little things, the cracks just beneath the surface, pushing up in quickened breath and bouncing legs, shaky hands and blank, zoned out expressions. It doesn't take much, before she shatters apart again, collapses into all the little pieces she'd managed to put back together, sprawled out on the floor and sobbing like she'd just lost everything.

And she had. She'd never healed. 

L'manburg will never be the same. It can never be the same. 

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Wilbur was out cold by the time he'd got back from the village, weighed down with stolen produce and basic supplies he'd traded for with whatever he could scavenge from the cage. He'd taken the news of Jack's death better than Tommy had expected. 

Well maybe not better, just more subdued. 

Which, now that he has time to think about, may not actually be a good thing. 

He's transitioned from half understandable crazy person ramblings to silence, which is just fucking creepy, a constant uncomfortable feeling in Tommy's stomach. Sometimes he wakes up to Wilbur watching him sleep, like a creepy weirdo.

It's got to be the medication he's managed to get at the village, and the fever, that's making him act all strange, because Wilbur isn't like this, he's never like this. 

And Tommy's doing fine of course, captaining the ship while the President is away- or at least taking a break or whatever- and Pogtopia's transformed into a home. 

Not like L'Manburg, but it's good enough for now, temporary accommodation until Wilbur can get better and they can make a plan. It's not like Tommy needs Wilbur to make a plan, but he knows he'd want to be involved. 

So yeah, he'd say he's doing a pretty good job at looking after them, finding food and medicine, mining materials and upgrading their tools. He steals most of the stuff, but it's easier than paying and it's also fun. 

So there. 

His shoulder's better, and he can't wait to rub his medical skills in Rose's face when he's sees her again, when they storm back and take the throne away from Schlatt, put everything right and make everything normal again, so he won't have to sleep on a moss mattress in a fucking cold ravine that sucks. 

And it's not like he needs Wilbur's help or anything, or that he misses him, which is just stupid, but he'd really like if Wilbur got off his ass and helped him at least. An extra pair of hands could go a long way, because stone is really fucking heavy and it also scrapes this shit out of his hands when he tries to carry it. 

He hasn't seen Eret since he ran into him in the woods, and he hasn't had a chance to get back out to L'manburg since, with extra guard patrols and Wilbur about three seconds from some kind of coma at any given moment. 

Quite frankly, Tommy's seen enough dead bodies for this month. 

Even though he'd definitely be able to handle it, who do people think he is? But a man can have a personal preference people, sue him. 

But his field trips in the forest aren't the same without Tubbo, they're lonely and they suck without someone to talk to to distract him from how much his legs hurt from walking. The village bakery's bread is pure shit compared to Niki's, and he just wishes he could have one more cake, one more pastry, one more slice. 

He misses them. It's not weird or strange or anything, because that's normal. That's what normal people do, they miss their family when they've been forced not to see them. They don't start accusing them of being double agents in some whack job drug fuelled conspiracy theory like an insane person, Wilbur. That's not normal.