You weren't sure what exactly woke you up.
All you knew was that you were sleeping one moment- filled with the happy moments of the day prior- and the next, your eyes were peeling themselves open. Wide- unconcentrated- narrowing in on nothing but the pitch black room.
The small part of your body that ran on instinct knew that someone was looking at you, the hairs on your arm silently prickled with goosebumps- or whatever sort of self preservation your body still had. It just knew someone was looking.
You were awake.
Barely.
Your eyes were open, but your vision was bleary- your hands came up to rub at your eyes but the muscles were sluggish.
You heard an unsteady almost person like noise near the side of your bed, and you flinched immediately, sitting upright and staring wide eyed at what it could be.
No words came from whoever it was, but the second an uneasy sounding breath was let out, you knew exactly who it was.
Tommy.
It's just Tommy.
Things are fine.
A sigh of relief puffs out of you, and you deflate into a hunched cross legged position.
"You had me freaked man-" Your hand rubs at your face, still trying to wipe the sleep away- still struggling to fully understand why your brain was waking up.
Again, a shaky breath comes from Tommy, and suddenly you're much more alert.
"Tommy...?"
Another shuddered breath comes from him, and you blindly reach an arm out into the darkness to hesitantly rest it on his shoulder. It took a moment to actually find him, but when you did, your hand rested heavily.
"Tommy- are you good...?"
"...No...?" He croaks, and without a moments hesitation you pat the side of your bed.
"Sit-"
He does so wordlessly, and you sit in silence next to him as he tries to control his breathing.
There's a long silence- one that you understand, and don't try and break.
Breaking it would only pressure him-
So you let your presence be enough.
For a good few minutes he on and off had trouble controlling his breathing, sometimes shivering to the point that the bed would shake, yet patiently you wait.
Without the torches lit, the room was drenched in darkness. It was pitch black, leaving nothing to look at except for an abyss, and yet your eyes flicker across it, scanning and re-scanning for anything that could be dangerous.
As if whatever had Tommy so scared was out there in the darkness, and you had to be physically ready for it when it inevitably attacked.
His breathing steadied itself.
And when it didn't fall apart after another good two minutes, you found the words to ask him what was wrong.
"Nightmare?" You mutter, timid in your assumption, but understanding when you hear him hum in agreement.
"Want to talk about it?" You ask.
No response comes from him, and again, you let him take his time.
Things like this are sensitive, and you knew not to force it.
Almost like before, it's silent- Tubbo's faint snoring dimly being recognized by your mind.
Counting seconds turned to minutes, counting heartbeats turned to counting breaths-
"I was with Wilbur-" He starts, and you listen intently.
"We were- we were trying to unlock this dumb puzzle for some reason I don't know- but it was really important that we finished it- and you were there too tryna help us-" Tommy pauses, pondering over details and trying his best to orient them appropriately, "And when we solved it nothing happened, so we just went back to our lives in L'manberg- but when we got there everything was just a gaping hole of darkness- and you fell into it- and when I bent over to look down into the void Wilbur shoved me in and laughed- fucking laughed- prick-"
Tommy sniffled, sucking in a shaky breath and forcing himself to steady.
"It choked me- It was suffocating- all around me were walls- walls that slowly crushed in on me-" Another harsh intake of breath made you wrap an arm around Tommy's shoulders to pull him into a side hug, "Wilbur was still laughing- and when I woke up I tried to tell myself that Wilbur wouldn't do that, but the more I thought about it the more... reasonable it seemed."
By the end of his retelling, he was curled up into you, head resting harshly against your rib cage as he shivered. He wasn't returning your hug, but he was fully accepting it, leaning into you, tears making your shirt wet.
You fully let him sniffle on you-
Thoughts of Wilbur- and just how big of a rift he was wedging between himself and Tommy rose to your mind.
Wilbur needed to get a grip on his mind- he needed to reach his hands into the sewer he dropped it in and pull it out before he gives Tommy more trauma.
"Why am I so fucking emotional...?"
"Nothing's wrong with having emotions." You counter immediately, running a hand atop his blonde head and gently pulling his clenched fists away from the soft locks.
You've had this conversation before with Tommy. Everytime he breaks you assure him it's fine- but he always seemed so sure he should be sucking up the parts of him that he deemed 'soft.'
"..." He doesn't have the words, merely passively letting you prevent himself from ripping his hair out and sighing.
A few more minutes are spent sitting like that, your hand taking up the job of smoothing over his hair, trying your best to soothe his distress.
"Is it bad that I don't think the sixteenth will fix anything?" He doesn't wait for a response, "It feel like it's going to be a right fucking mess- but if we don't go through with the fight Wilbur's just gonna blow it up anyway- and I just-"
Another long sigh of disappointment.
"I don't even care about L'manberg anymore- I just want Wilbur back- not... whatever he is right now..."
You nod, even though he can't see it. You would've liked to meet Wilbur before everything went downhill. You wouldn't liked to have gotten to know what this, 'Son of Phil' was really like.
Maybe you could've been friends.
"Phil's going to try an talk some sense into him. That's why I called." You say.
Tommy doesn't make a sound to confirm he heard you or not, and you pat him, "We've got that going for us at least."
"I suppose." He snorts tiredly, "Phil is kind of an air headed dick though."
You smile, "Oh really?"
"Yes. Really. He has no spacial awareness, or time management, and just forgets about important things like my birthday, and Wilbur's invitation to our independence day."
You huff.
You can see where he's coming from.
With how long Phil's been alive, time is incredibly hard for him to calculate- and he never really learned to look around before moving- which leads to his massive plumage knocking all sorts of things off tables.
He's a free spirit- one that isn't confined in houses, or tight spaces- or social networks-
He belongs in the sky.
"He has good advice though." You hum, and Tommy hums back.
"Can I ask you something...?" Tommy asks.
You hum- neither confirming or denying his request.
"Did you have parents?"
That...
Wasn't that far out there.
You suppose you trust him with sensitive information
"I did. They're gone now."
"Oh..."
"You?"
"Never met them."
You don't question why he was asking about your parents now- or what implications came out of the fact that Tommy never met his family.
You just continue to sit together.
A yawn comes from Tommy, as well as a deep sigh. Like the weight of the world is pressed against him-
"I'm so... so tired." He grits out, "Can I... can I just stay near you for a bit...?"
"Take all the time you need."
That seems to be enough for the boy- he curls farther into your side, and you flop back onto your bed to get comfy.
You wordlessly let him take comfort in your presence, because you know what he's feeling- and you know that sometimes just... just having a person beside you makes things so much better.
Knowing that someone's there- that they won't vanish- that they won't abandon you, or suddenly die-
Relishing in the presence instead of the conversation-
That is what he wanted right now, and you'd let him.
Sleep was calling whether you wanted it to or not.