Work Text:
Static. It all sounds like fucking radio static. The crackling and crinkling fills Tommy’s ears. The static drowns him; Blocking out every sound. But, is there even sound to be heard? The withers were dead. The debris had fallen. Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy doesn’t see anyone’s mouth moving. But, it doesn’t fucking matter if there was. The static pounds at Tommy’s head and pulls him down. His knees slam into the uplifted dirt. FUCK. With a dropped jaw, Tommy stares at the sight before him.
Philza. His friend. His Brother. His Dad. The only person he had who was untouched by this war. By this insanity. The one who taught him how to tie his shoes. The one who would keep him, Techno, and Wilbur from being too big of idiots. The one who he’d always be able to trust. The one who he’s missed so dearly.
Phil stands up in the destroyed control room; dust dancing with his movement. He stares out into the cloud of eyes glued on him. Crimson red is splattered across his chest. The static roars in Tommy’s ears.
He never thought the red suited Phil. It doesn’t suit him, it never did. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it multiple times before. When Phil and Techno would go off and come back covered in red, it always sent a shiver down Tommy’s spine. Phil was so nice and warm to the young boy. He was able to calm the teen down with just a smile. Then, seeing him covered in red with piercing cold eyes of battle had left a sinking feeling in Tommy’s stomach.
But this...this is worse. So much worse. Phil has a face of unimaginable pain. He’s standing there defeated, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto the cracked stone he stands on. He doesn’t just have red splattered across his chest for the whole SMP to see, he has sorrow. The static is interrupted by the piercing clan of Phil’s sword when it falls from his hand to the stone, like an angel falling from heaven.
Phil’s eyes meet Tommy’s. The older man grimaces at the fallen teen. Tommy stares back with parted lips, the static threatening him in the distance. No words leave Tommy’s mouth. The emotions and feelings rushing through his head can’t be put into words. Phil gives him a small pained smile and that is it for the teen.
The static is gone. There is only the sharp stab of silence and gasping? No...sobbing. Tears stream down Tommy’s cheeks. His eyes squeeze shut and his fists dig into the dirt under him. His cracked knuckles feel like they’re going to burst but it is nothing. The teen let’s out a loud warped scream. A scream of anguish, regret, apology, fear, grief, anger, sorrow. It all comes out blended together in one long scream. It may be cold but all of Tommy burns. His throat burns. His chest burns. His eyes burn. It hurts.
WilburSoot was slain by Philza
Wilbur is dead.