Actions

Work Header

Malaise

Summary:

Malaise: a general feeling of discomfort, illness, or uneasiness whose exact cause is difficult to identify.

Or, In which had Tubbo just stayed home from school he'd have avoided a lot of problems; but he also would've missed out on a lot of opportunities.

Notes:

(hey! you should read the fic above it's really good! <3)

Content warnings for this fic include vomiting (like. there's so much talk of it and it's described [not in detail] at one point) and one instance of panic attacks (again, not described in detail, bit there is spiralling thoughts a lot.) stay safe.

special thanks to Rinredacted and Goatlysacrifices, for putting up with my ramblings and helping me iron out ideas <3 love ya both /p

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Tommy noticed something was very wrong about mid-afternoon.

 

Not with him, of course. Tommy was the Biggest Man to ever exist, ever, so obviously he was perfectly fine. No, the issues lied with his best friend, Tubbo, who was currently slumped halfway over his desk, a few shades paler than normal and breathing heavily. He was obviously trying not to cause a scene, but the pinch in their brows and drowsy, confused fog that was slowly creeping over his eyes was indicative enough, in Tommy’s humble opinion.

 

Tommy had noticed something off with Tubbo at the start of the school day, when they had met up outside the school doors. It was a tradition, with them: Tommy was dropped off at the high school twenty minutes early, since Wilbur passed by the school on his way to the local college, and Tubbo would show up around the same time, usually on foot. Tubbo had arrived a few minutes later than usual, discomfort written all over their high-strung shoulders and downturned lips. They’d rolled his shoulders at least twice before Tommy sighed, taking two quick steps to stand in front of Tubbo and placing his hands on his shoulders.

 

“Tubbo, my friend. My brother, as some might say.”

“I’m pretty sure only Wil says that.”

“Whatever. Not the point. The point is you look like shit.”

 

Tubbo snorted. ”Thanks, boss man. Really appreciate it.”

“Of course. But seriously, you look like you might fall over any minute. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just fine, Boss man. I just don’t feel great, ‘s all.”

“Tubbo- Tubbo if you don’t feel well, then you’re not ‘just fine.’ you are the opposite of fine.”

 

Tubbo gently pushes Tommy’s hands off his shoulders, smiling tightly, still hiding some quantity of pain. “Really, Toms, I’m fine. I made it to school alright, didn’t I?”

“If you’re sick, you shouldn’t be at school, idiot.”

“I wasn’t sick enough to stay home. My parents don’t let me stay home unless it’s an emergency, anyways.”

Tommy had frowned at that. If he told Phil he was sick, he’d be practically forced to stay in bed with a pot of soup simmering on the stove, even if it was just a little cold. “That’s dumb. If you don’t feel well, you should get to stay home.”

 

Tubbo shrugged in reply. “Can’t be helped now. Class is going to start right away. I’ll be fine.”

 

There had been a prickle in Tommy’s senses, a little whisper that told him everything was not going to be fine, that something was going to go terribly wrong, that something about this whole scenario wasn’t quite what it seemed. He got the sense that Tubbo was feeling worse than they let on, or was sicker than they understood, but he also knew Tubbo wasn’t going to be talked out of going to school. Not yet, at least. 

 

See, the issue was, for as much as Tommy loved his friend, he would be the first person to tell you that Tubbo was sort of an idiot sometimes. Not in an academic sense; Tommy was pretty sure Tubbo would have the highest grades in the class if half the teachers weren’t assholes and actually utilized the accommodations that had been recommended for Tubbo. No, academically, Tubbo was set. But when it came to feelings, Tubbo. Well. They were shit at those, actually, and they had this funny tendency to blame themselves for shit that was far beyond their scope of control. Which wasn’t funny at all, actually. It was kind of sad, and kind of infuriating, and entirely the fault of Tubbo’s dumbass parents, who both had dumb little jobs that occupied so much of their time that they rarely, if ever, spoke to their son. Any time they did speak to him, it was always to tell him they expected more, that they weren’t doing enough, that they needed to try harder and work faster.

 

Tommy hated them. But only a little, because every time he told Tubbo that, he got this sad look in his eyes that Tommy couldn’t stand.

 

So he put up with Tubbo dismissing every concern, let him say it’s my fault anyways, I should’ve done more, and bit his tongue when his parents berated them for whatever the topic of the day was. He didn’t intervene, because Tubbo made it clear he didn’t want that, and as much as Tommy hated the fact that they suffered so much for so little, that they had to claw and scrape and fight for any scrap of attention, he did not try to pull Tubbo away (at least, not until he thought it was dangerous for Tubbo to linger). He would relay to Phil what was happening (he was pretty sure Phil kept a document of dates and times and reports on what Tommy witnessed somewhere. Just in case.), and get Wilbur to warm up the car, and wait for Tubbo to come to him with whatever the latest hurt was. He waited for Tubbo to seek support, because he knew there were days Tubbo wanted to pretend everything was normal, and his home life was good, and there was nothing wrong with the way he was treated. It hurt Tommy, but he couldn’t exactly fault his friend for craving normalcy.

 

So, despite the warning bells going off in his head, he sighed, nodded, and let Tubbo lead the way to their first period class. If Tubbo later decided he did need help, he’d come to Tommy first, and Tommy could take over from there. He wasn’t going to baby Tubbo: they didn’t need someone to hold their hand and tell him what was wrong or right. Tubbo was smart, and while they were self-sacrificing, he wouldn’t leave himself to suffer for too long. It was just a matter of letting them decide how much they would put up with.

 

Which is what led them to now, sitting in their afternoon history class, with Tubbo looking like he was somewhere between vomiting and passing out while Tommy watched his friend's condition decline. They’d seemed relatively cheerful over lunch, if a bit lethargic (that was normal for Tubbo, though; he’d dealt with chronic insomnia for as long as Tommy had known them, and probably before that, too), but were now practically wilting whilst their instructor rambled about Egypt or something. Tommy honestly hadn’t been paying attention for the last fifteen minutes, which was probably going to get him in trouble, but he didn’t really care about that right now. He cast a glance at Tubbo, who finally looked over in return, blinking some of the pained haze from their eyes.

Are you okay?’  Tommy mouthed, feeling awfully like one of those middle-school girls who pass notes and no-so-secretly whisper to their friends (that’s not a bad thing though, he didn’t think. Wilbur wouldn’t think it’s a bad thing, so it was probably fine.)

 

Tubbo hesitated, shooting a glance to the front of the room, where their teacher was still lecturing, hesitating for what was probably a second, but seemed to drag on for an unbearable amount of minutes. Really, that was all the answer Tommy needed: that glance told him Tubbo did not feel well, but would feel guilty interrupting the class to bring attention to themselves, or, perhaps worse, that it was the idea of leaving class that weighed on his conscience. There was a moment where Tommy thought Tubbo might try to dismiss him, might indicate he was okay, but finally Tubbo locked eyes with him again and gave his head a tiny shake, pain and panic bleeding into his expression.

 

Tommy got the hint. Tubbo needed to leave now.

 

He didn’t hesitate any further, fully standing up from his desk (causing a book bag or two to fall in the process) as he loudly called for the teacher, bringing the class to a screeching halt and leading to Tubbo slamming their head against their desk. The teacher sneered at him, probably assuming Tommy was just up to his usual antics (which made his blood boil a little, but that wasn’t important right now).

 

“What is it, Tommy?”

Tommy knew he had to choose his words carefully. He’d picked up a reputation as a problem child, which was bullshit, he didn’t cause problems, but no one but Phil had ever believed him about that, so he had to put up with the scathing looks and accusatory tones. The wrong words could lead to his case not being taken seriously. He decided the best route was to be as straightforward and direct as possible.

 

“Tubbo’s sick. Can we be excused from class so I can get him home?”

The teacher didn’t look impressed. Tommy was distinctly remembering why he hated the education system. “If Toby isn’t feeling well, he can say that himself.”

Tommy looked at the teacher, then to Tubbo, who was still face down on their desk. “I think if Tubbo opens his mouth, he might vomit on the floor. But hey, if you wanna take that risk, I can get ‘im up for you.”

This finally got the teacher to actually look at Tubbo, who picked a very good moment to slowly raise their head, blinking blearily before letting out an awfully-realistic retching sound. Tommy grinned triumphantly as the teacher balked.

 

“Your call, miss.”

“You-” she cleared her throat, sounding nervous (and slightly ill herself). “You two are excused.”

 

Feeling victorious, Tommy pulled miserable looking Tubbo to his feet, gently pulling him out the door. As soon as the door shut behind them, Tommy laughed.

 

“Oh, did you see the look on that bitch’s face? She was so fuckin’ scared you were going to vomit on her floors. Good job on faking that, I don’t think she was letting us leave otherwise.”

Tubbo mumbled something that was indiscernible under their breath. 

 

“Pardon?”

“Said ‘m not faking it.” Tubbo bit out, voice terse.

 

“Oh. oh, shit, fuck- ” Tommy changed course from the front doors to the nearest bathrooms, just in time for Tubbo to gag again, groaning miserably. Tommy hustled them to the door, practically shoving them towards the nearest stall. He awkwardly set a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder before realizing that was a dumb gesture, and instead switched to holding the fringe of his hair back. Tubbo groaned again, pained, and Tommy grimaced when his stomach finally gave out. This was not exactly how he wanted to spend his afternoon. Still, he refrained from making any comments until Tubbo sighed, leaning back against his legs, tear tracks lining his cheeks.

 

“So. ‘I’m just fine’, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up. I hate you.” Tubbo snarled back, though his voice was watery and thin.

 

“That’s a rude thing to say, considering I’m the person who’s stopping vomit from getting in your hair.”

 

There was a lull in the conversation, though Tommy wasn’t overly surprised. Tubbo probably still felt like shit. “I want to go home .” he finally whispered, catching Tommy off guard. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I wasn’t this sick this morning, but- I just. I want to go home.”


Tommy’s heart broke a little, hearing Tubbo practically sob on the bathroom floor. “Sh, shh, you’re okay Tubs. You should’ve stayed home today, I reckon. Sleep would’ve been good for you… can’t be helped now, though. C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

Tubbo nodded, taking a deep breath as he pulled himself up on shaky legs. Tommy couldn't see his face, but judging by the way they tensed, their body seemed to protest the movement. He recovered quickly enough, flushing the toilet before turning to Tommy. 

 

“Okay. let’s go.”

Tommy smiled, though he was sure it was more of a grimace than anything else, gently taking Tubbo by the wrist to lead him towards the front office. Judging by their pale complexion, he wasn’t exactly confident Tubbo wouldn’t hit the pavement without the support. Thankfully, the walk from the bathrooms to the front office was short, and from there, the front doors were only a stone's throw away. Freedom was practically guaranteed, assuming nothing else went wrong.

 

Prime, he hoped nothing else went wrong.

 

The front office was empty as the two stumbled in, which was just as well, in Tommy’s opinion. The less interruptions they had, the less chance there was that Tubbo would vomit here, too. There was only one person behind the desk, a lady with big glasses and a no-nonsense look. She was on the phone, and glared at the two as they walked up to the desk. Tommy did not look forward to dealing with another crabby staff member, who probably assumed they were here because they were being sent to the principal's office, but for Tubbo, he would persevere. 

 

He didn’t pay attention to what she was saying, because he honestly didn’t care. He kept an eye on Tubbo instead, making sure the boy was still alright enough to tolerate whatever the office worker was about to put them through.

 

There was a click and a sigh from behind the desk, causing Tommy to turn his full attention to the office lady. She did not look impressed to see him.

 

“And what would you two be here for today?” she sneered, a harsh glance fixed on Tommy. He deadpanned in return, because seriously, did she not see Tubbo? He thought the answer to why they were here should be pretty fucking obvious, given their condition.

 

“Tubbo isn’t feeling well.” He clarifies anyways, because fighting with the office lady for being a stupid fucking bitch isn’t going to help.

 

Despite Tommy’s attempt, she still looks skeptical. “Do you have a hall pass?”

“A hall- no? We just came here.”

 

She hums, all high and condescending, like she’s got something up on them now. “If you don’t have a hall pass, I can’t sign you out of class. Your absence will be considered unexcused.”

 

Tommy didn’t particularly care about an unexcused absence, to be honest, but that would mean a phone call home for both of them, and if they got phone calls home, then Phil would start asking questions, and Tommy didn’t know if he had answers that he wanted to give. Plus, who knew what Tubbo’s parents would do if they heard their son had skipped? He sighed, annoyed, fixing a glare at the office lady.

 

“Look, miss-” he started, but Tubbo cut him off by squeezing his hand, sending a comforting smile to him.

 

“Excuse me,” he started, and oh, Tommy knew Tubbo didn’t feel well, but he also knew that the meek little whimper Tubbo was currently speaking in was entirely falsified, “I don’t mean to cause any problems, miss, but I’d really just like to go home.”

 

Thankfully (if annoyingly), Tubbo had a far better reputation than Tommy, despite them being best friends. The office lady’s face softened, and though she hesitated, she did set the phone in front of Tubbo. 

 

“I’ll have to send a message to your class to make sure you two aren’t lying.” she huffed, but Tommy didn’t pay her any mind, nodding and murmuring a thanks only to make sure she didn’t change her mind. He stood as patiently as he could by Tubbo’s side as they punched in a phone number, holding the receiver to his ear as telltale ringing played out. Then continued to ring. It went on for almost a solid minute, with Tommy slowly getting more and more anxious as time went on, bouncing on his toes as he took nervous glances at Tubbo. Finally, there was a quiet click , and sound poured in from the other side of the phone. Tommy couldn’t hear what was being said very well, but it sounded like Tubbo’s mother speaking. Tubbo barely managed a breath before there was a long stream of words from the other side, and Tubbo winced.

 

“I’m sorry. I know I- yes, I’m really sorry, mum. I-”

He seemed to be cut off again, leaving him to hold his words as she spoke quickly.

 

“-yes, I know. Just- I’m sick, mum.” There was a break. “Worse than this morning. I- mhm- I just. Feel really terrible. I want to go home.” Another break. “Yeah, I- I know, I’m sorry, I just really need- no, mum-” he sighed. “Can father come get me, then? I really don’t think I should be staying at school.” 

 

the talking on the other side picked up, and Tubbo winced. “Okay. okay. I’m really sorry, I-” there was a click, and the line went dead. Tubbo turned to Tommy, remorse clear in their eyes.

 

“She says- um, she said that both her and father are in a really important meeting, so I- uh I have to wait it out. Or walk home!” he quickly adds on, as Tommy’s expression morphs into rage. “I could walk, it’s not a big deal, they just both- yeah. So.”

 

“Fuck that,” Tommy snarled, ignoring the office lady’s offended gasp, “I’m calling Phil.”

 

Tubbo tilted his head at that, eyes scrunching in confusion. The office lady attempted to object, but the two boys simultaneously elected to ignore her. “Why- why would you- I don’t see how that’ll convince them.”

“I’m not trying to convince your parents,” he spits, practically seething, “I’m telling Phil to come pick you up.”

”Oh- no, that’s not- um, that’s not necessary- Tommy, no, it’s fine, I’ll just-” Tubbo stuttered, clearly caught off guard. He only stops when Tommy glares ferociously at him, putting his arms on the desk to lean against it, losing his remaining energy.

 

The line suddenly picks up. “What did Tommy do this time?” Phil's voice asks, sounding equal parts tired and amused.

 

“Some way to greet your son.” Tommy quips right back.

 

“Oh- hey, Tommy. Usually it's one of the office workers phoning me from this line, not you. What can I do, mate?”

 

“Tubbo’s not feeling well, but his parents are being bitchy and refusing to come pick him up.” Tommy reports, glancing at Tubbo through the corner of his vision. They are currently half-slumped over the desk, with their forehead pressed to the cool wood surface.

 

“Oh, that’s no good.” Phil's voice is full of compassion and worry as he responds. “How is he? Do you think it’s serious?”

“He’s not… great. I don’t think he needs to go to the hospital or anything, but he shouldn’t be at school, and I don’t think he should walk home alone. He seems pretty out of it.” 

 

Tommy knows he’s got Phil invested in the case now, but there’s still some hesitance. He hears Phil suck a sharp breath through his teeth, which means he’s thinking very hard about what the right course of action is.”

 

“He threw up in the bathrooms.” Tommy throws in another tidbit, hoping Phil will take the bait and cave. It works, as Phil sighs heavily, and Tommy can practically hear him run a hand through his hair.

 

“Alright. I’ll come pick you both up. It’ll take me about ten minutes to get there.”

“Yes! Thank you, Phil! This is why you’re the only man ever!” Tummy cheers, smiling brightly to Tubbo, who offers a shaky thumbs up in response. Phil laughs fondly from the other side.

 

“See you soon.” The line clicks off as Phil hangs up. Tommy slams the receiver back down, whooping gleefully before making himself relax as Tubbo groans, covering his ears.

 

“Sorry, Tubs. Phil says ten minutes.”

He got a pained hum in reply. The office lady huffed, clearly unhappy to be putting up with them for any extended amount of time, but Tommy figured if she had a problem with it, she could say that to his face and stop being a stupid little bitch about it. Since she made no further comments, though, he chose to wait beside Tubbo until Phil arrived.

 

—----------------------------------

 

Phil was exactly on time, as he somehow always managed to be. Tommy gently reached over to Tubbo, who had fallen into a fitful sleep on the chair beside his, placing a hand on his shoulder to shake them awake. The aforementioned groaned, clearly unhappy to be awake, but straightened nonetheless, stretching their arms and wincing. 

 

“What?” he whined out, glaring lazily at Tommy.

 

“Phil’s here. C’mon, let’s go.”

 

Tubbo hummed, forcing themselves to stand. They shuddered, legs giving out, but Tommy caught him before he could fully hit the ground.

 

“Prime, you’re really out of it, huh?”


“Wanna sleep…” Tubbo whined back, finally managing to get his feet to stay under him.

 

“You can sleep in the car. C’mon, let’s go.” he pulled Tubbo along gently, letting the older stumble along behind him as they walked out the front door and straight to a familiar silver car. Tommy practically shoved Tubbo into the backseat, rounding the car to take the front seat for himself once he was sure Tubbo wasn’t going to collapse in on himself. Phil shot him a worried glance as he coaxed the car back onto the road.

 

“Hey mate.” he opened.

 

“Hello!” Tommy chirped back, bouncing in his seat. Tubbo mumbled something.

 

“How’re you feeling, Tubbo?”

“Like shit.” 

 

“Yeah, I think I can tell that. Can you tell me what’s going on? Do you know what you have?”

Tubbo shook their head miserably. “I was okay this morning… kind of achy, but not. Sick.”

Phil hummed thoughtfully. “What’re your symptoms?”

 

“Uh… tired. Really tired. Still achy, ‘spcially around my shoulders. Dizzy.”

“And he threw up!” Tommy added in. Tubbo nodded.

 

“Yeah. that too.”

 

“And this all happened suddenly? You felt fine yesterday?”

Tubbo hummed in affirmation. Phil sighed, opening and closing his mouth a few times, like he was trying to pick the best possible set of words for the scenario.

 

“Have you… ever been told you’re different from your family?”

 

“Phil-” Tommy hissed, because that was a rude thing to ask someone, he thought, but Phil held up a hand to quiet him. “Tubbo?”

 

Tubbo shuffled, wincing as he readjusted his shoulder muscles again. “I guess? Mum thinks that I’m. Spacey. I don’t fit in well, I guess.”

 

Tommy wanted to argue, tell Tubbo that was bullshit, that they were fine and their family consisted entirely of bastards and assholes, but Phil had a very solemn look all of the sudden that scared Tommy quite a bit.

 

“Has there ever been a hybrid in your family, Tubbo?”

 

Now, Tommy was many things. He was loud, and he was brash, and he was headstrong, but if there was one thing he wasn’t, it was dumb, no matter what the education system seemed to think. No, Tommy was pretty smart, or at the very least, smart enough to know that wasn’t a question you asked someone for absolutely no reason. There was a much deeper meaning behind the words, one that was waiting for the right words to make itself known to the world. Tubbo seemed to pick up on this hidden meaning too, as he hesitated before answering.

 

“No… no, my family is all human. Why?”

“I think… well, I can’t know for sure until I get a better look at you, but it sounds like you might be growing into some traits.”

 

Tubbo stiffened, then curled over himself, scowling. “No, that’s not possible. I just said, there’s no hybrids in my family. I couldn’t be- I can’t- that can’t happen to me.”

“It happens more often than you’d think, actually. Hybridism is a lot like left handedness, or having a different eye colour. Chances are, you’re going to inherit straight from your parents, but at some point in the odds, there’s always going to be a decimal. Nothing can ever be exactly guaranteed. Sometimes there’s mutations, or a dormant gene, or something that hasn’t been active in a family for generations, but is still sitting in the bloodline. My point is, it can happen.”

 

“Why me, though? There’s- so many other people in my family, who’ve never-  there’s not even photos of anyone in our family with any traits. How would I end up being the one to- break the chain, so to speak?”

 

“I’m not saying you are. Not yet, at least. I just think that… well, you have some… quirks, as your family would put it, that I always thought looked more like hybrid expressions. Like… you said spacing out, right? I’ve noticed that too, but it’s really only when you see something that shines, like… I think you were particularly interested in Tech’s earrings for a while?” 

 

The flush that came to Tubbo’s cheeks were answer enough.

 

 “Plus, your insomnia… I sometimes wonder if it’s really insomnia, or if you were just built to be nocturnal.”

 

There was a long bout of silence in the car, as everyone seemed to take in the words. The more Tommy thought about it, the more correct Phil sounded. Maybe it was just the fact that it sounded plausible, or maybe he was biased from hearing it from Philza, the only man ever, but… it did seem to make sense, that Tubbo could be a hybrid. There were instances where his senses seemed beyond human, where he’d acted responded similarly to how Phil or Wilbur would. Tommy could recall moments where Tubbo had noticed things Tommy would have never considered, like what fabric certain shirts were without even feeling them, or how he gazed at the night sky like he wished he could join the clouds. 

 

Tubbo was ultimately the one who broke the silence. “I… don’t think so. There’s no way… I couldn’t be. No. I’m not.”

 

“Alright.” Phil agreed easily. He didn’t press the topic any further, letting the car fall back into not-quite-comfortable silence. The drive didn’t take much longer, Phil pulling into their driveway and turning off the transmission. Tommy and Tubbo wasted no time disembarking, though Tommy sprinted to the door while Tubbo took slow, measured steps, arms drawn tight to their chest. Phil stepped between the two, unlocking the door and opening it with a flourish, letting the two step in before shutting the door shut behind him.

 

Somehow, it felt like a decision being made.

 

—----------------------------------

 

Tubbo was confused.

 

Well, confusion probably didn’t encompass all of his feelings. There was definitely confusion fogging their brain, but there was also a distinct hazy layer brought on by the constant exhaustion that plagued their brain, and a layer of a sick, achy feeling that sat heavy like sentiment in their brain, weighing down any useful thought they could’ve had and leaving them in a strange, floating space where absolutely nothing made sense and he longed for nothing more than a bed and a thick comforter. Sleep sounded like the single most appealing thing in the world right now, especially if he could sleep for the next week or so. Yeah, that would be great.

 

They groaned, trying to ignore the fierce ache that was spreading through their shoulders (and failing, but that wasn’t the point) as he observed the house. It didn’t look that different then the last time he’d been here, though it was much darker and quieter than usual, with half the normal occupants missing.

 

Good, something in his mind chimed, dark is good quiet is good sleep stop now safe warm sleep-

 

He blinked, shaking their head harshly. They would sleep soon. They should probably take medication first, though, or something. Honestly, not much was making sense to them at the moment.

 

Their limbs shook with the weight of holding up their body, bones screaming to be relinquished from their duty. They sighed heavily, another wave of hurt tired stop no more need rest passed through them, shuddering as the pain settled heavy in their shoulder blades and behind their eyes. 

 

“Hey mate.” Tubbo turned to see Phil, who had a sympathetic look on his face and a glass of water in his hands. “How are you holding up?”

“Hurts.” he croaked back, blinking to make sure no tears were gathering in his eyes. They were not crying right now.

 

“Yeah, I bet. I brought this for you-” he passed the glass of water to Tubbo, who happily grasped the glass to take a long drink from, “-and I was hoping I could see your shoulders? You said they hurt the worst, so I’d like to make sure… If you’re growing in wings, I know how to help with that.”

Tubbo frowned around the glass, a sour taste hitting his mouth. He didn’t like this conversation so much. “I’m not growing wings.”

“Won’t know that until we check, will we?”

Tubbo huffed. “Fine, you can check.” He set the glass down on the nearest level surface before scrabbling out of his sweater, pausing halfway through when their shoulders protested a little too loudly about extending.

 

Phil sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Aw, mate…” there was concern and empathy dripping off his tone, in a way that sent Tubbo’s senses into high alert, because there was no need for empathy, Tubbo wasn’t like Phil, he was just-

 

The ache came back with a vengeance. Tubbo squeezed their eyes closed, pushed down the increasingly frantic urge to find the nearest soft surface and sleep for the next century. 

 

“It’s not that bad, is it?” he choked out, their voice sounding weak even to him. 

 

“Oh, no, it’s not bad. There’s nothing wrong with you, but…” Phil paused, just long enough for icy dread to crash over Tubbo, “It’s definitely. Some kind of hybrid trait. I’m not sure exactly what you’re growing into, but. We’ll make sure things go smoothly for you, alright? Don’t worry about a thing, we’ll look after you.”

The sentiment was nice, but the issue wasn’t that Tubbo was worried. The issue was Tubbo was terrified. He couldn’t be a hybrid. Not that he had anything against them, that would be pretty fucked, considering he was talking to one right now, but it just. Wasn’t him. He was Tubbo, the completely human child of his completely human parents. He couldn’t afford to be different, he already wasn’t enough, what would his parents think if he was- if he wasn’t- 

 

They wouldn’t hate him, would they?

 

He didn’t want to think they would, he wanted to believe they would accept that this was part of him, that they were a hybrid and that was a normal thing, but. But. Tubbo wasn’t an idiot. They knew what their parents thought about anything that wasn’t the absolute societal norm. It wasn’t like he had to dig for examples: he remembers the horrible, isolated feeling that engulfed him when he told his parents they were non-binary, and got a look of disgust and apathy in return. 

 

At least their parents hadn’t hurt him, they just pretended he’d never said anything at all. That was objectively better, wasn’t it?

 

But that had been one thing, something that they could brush aside, and it hurt them, hurt them down to the core that they wouldn’t even consider accepting this core part of them, but hybridism? There was no looking past that. He’d be– They would hate him, for not being perfect, for being, for-

 

“Tubbo, breathe. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

 

He was snapped back into reality by Phil’s voice, calm and steady against his racing thoughts and too-fast breathing. He gasped, trying to force air down his throat, but it wasn’t working, and there was the voice again- instinct, he supposed, because hybris had keen instincts- screaming for him to stop stop no more stop rest safe quiet good sleep sleep sleep-

 

Frankly, he found it quite annoying, but the combination of Phil on the outside and his… instinct, on the inside, was getting the job done as his body slowly unwound, breath evening out as he relaxed. He felt boneless, suddenly, exhaustion coiling around every bone. He wasn’t sure he could even hold up his own weight; it all seemed like too much for him to do, when his whole body begged to be allowed rest. It took them an embarrassingly long time to realize they actually weren’t supporting themselves: at some point Phil had lifted them, and they were currently being carried down the hallway. Whoops. He squirmed, trying to escape, but Phil made a little cooing noise in the back of his throat, and the bonelessness returned full force. Phil laughed softly; Tubbo huffed in return.

 

“Trust me, mate, I’ve been where you are. It’s hard to have all new instincts all at once. It takes a while to get used to; to get used to all of it, really. I promise it’s not bad though. Different, but it’s a good kind of difference. It’s like… there’s been a coil inside you your whole life, and it finally gets unwound. Or, that’s how it was for me, at least.”

Tubbo hummed. That didn’t sound too bad. 

 

They were aware of a door being opened, and then their feet were on the ground. He swayed dangerously, not wanting to support his own weight, but thankfully Phil helped steady him.

 

“I can’t tell you exactly what you need, because I don’t know what’s happening in your body. Different hybrids want different environments for their manifestation. If you feel like you need something, let me know, and I’ll try to accommodate you.”

Tubbo hummed again, the fuzz becoming unbearably loud in his mind. “Sleep.” 

 

“Right. I’ll let you settle yourself, then.” They were gently nudged forwards, where they stumbled into the bedroom they’d been presented with. They cautiously felt out the sheets, pleased with the plush feeling that graced their fingers. They scrambled into the bed, flopping onto their stomach and letting out a content sigh. It was nice, soft and comfortable in a way that made the brain-fuzz sing with delight. 

 

Except.

 

He pulled at the blanket that was available, huffing when more did not reveal themselves to him. Through the haze of yes good soft good sleep now sleep rest there was a persistent call that it was too exposed, not enough cover to be truly safe.

 

“Missing something?” he jumped, having totally forgotten that Phil was still in the doorway.

 

“I…” he bit his tongue, not quite having the courage to voice what his brain called for.

 

“I’m not going to judge you, mate. I built nests for weeks after I manifested. Instinct happens; best to listen to it for now.”

Encouraged, he let out a slow, long breath, trying to persuade his slowed-down brain to think. Prime, when did speaking get so difficult? “I’d… like another blanket. I think.”

Phil shrugged. “Sure. just one?”

He blinked. Even though Phil had said he’d be accommodating, he still hadn’t. Totally expected it. “Uh. I don’t know. An armful?”

He got a laugh in return. “Until it’s enough then, understood.” there was a rustling, and then Phil reappeared, arms full of fabric that looked soft and warm and cozy and-

 

He had to hold himself back from lunging for the blankets as Phil moved to drop them at the edge of the bed. Once they were down, though… Well, it was fair game from there. He grabbed the nearest one, inspecting it meticulously to make sure it would fit what they needed it for. When they deemed it acceptable (on what criteria, they weren’t sure: it just had to be Right), they threw it on top of the first blanket, then continued the process until they had four blankets that felt Right, which they promptly rolled themselves into, making a cocoon of fabric that felt very very good on their sharpened instincts.

 

“Feeling better?” Phil called, voice muffled beyond the layers of fabric Tubbo was currently calling home.

 

Tubbo only hummed, thoughts too slow for anything more complex. He wanted to sleep; he’d wanted to sleep for most of the day, but now more than ever.

 

“Lights on or off?” Thankfully, Phil seemed to understand.

 

“...Off, please.” they managed, snuggling further into their blanket cocoon.

 

“Alright. Sleep well, Tubbo.” there was a click as the light switch was flipped, followed by the quiet creak of the door closing.

 

Tubbo didn’t hear anything else before drifting into sleep.

 

—-----------------------------

 

Tommy had seen his fair share of transformations in his time. Which meant two; Wilbur and Techno’s, and he had been too young to really remember what it was like, but the point was he’d been there for them, and he didn’t remember it being this unbearably boring. Techno had been fairly active for his manifestation, wandering their home, lingering in doorways, glaring at anyone he couldn’t immediately recognize. Wilbur hadn’t been as active during the day, but at night he’d prowl the premises, grabbing things of interest or relentlessly cuddling.

 

“It’s because of their hybrid types,” Phil explained, “and how their instinct comes in. Techno felt compelled to protect because he’s Piglin, and Wilbur wanted to hoard because he’d Phantom. Tubbo is  more like me: I didn’t want to move much while I manifested either.”

“But I’m bored,” Tommy whined back, though he was pretty sure both he and Phil knew that wasn’t really what the issue was, “And I don’t remember it taking this long.”

Currently, both Phil and Tommy were sitting in Tubbo’s unofficial room, watching for any sign of life to return to them. Tubbo had been in and out of consciousness for the past two days, though ‘consciousness’ was perhaps a bold claim, considering he’d barely moved in those periods. ‘Awake’ was perhaps the best term. Awake, but not truly aware. Tommy still tried to catch him in these periods anyways, if only to make sure his friend wasn’t dying in this time, but he was barely coherent, blinking slowly with filmy eyes before settling back into sleep again. He did eat, occasionally, if someone prompted him to, and Tommy had noticed their periods of sleep were getting shorter and their wakeful periods longer, but he still kept falling into slumber, and Tommy’s heart was starting to ache. He wanted his friend back.

 

“He’ll be awake soon enough, Toms. It’s not easy to reprogram your whole body; it takes time.”

“I know. I still want my friend, though.”

 

Phil sighed, offering a small smile as comfort. “I know. It’s difficult, but they’ll be back before you know it. He’s been out for what’s considered a normal time: unless he has a particularly difficult manifest, I’d expect him to be back later today.”

Tommy sighed. Realistically, he knew Tubbo was fine. He’d made sure of it himself. But there was a lingering fear that if he stepped away for too long, if he left Tubbo alone to fight their battles alone, Tubbo might lose, and then he’d never have his friend back.

 

Speaking of.

 

“Hey Phil?” Tommy started, though he thought it was perhaps too casual for what he was about to say.

 

“Yeah mate?”

 

“Do you think… well, you know about Tubbo’s parents.”

Phil’s expression soured. “Yes, I’m aware of them.”

 

“Do you think… is he going to be okay, to go back?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Phil- his parents don’t accept that he’s nonbinary, I don’t think they’ll- They don’t like. Things that aren’t considered ‘standard’.”

 

Phil let his breath out through his teeth, raking a hand through his hair as he considered an answer. “I don't think,” he started, “it would be right for us to make a decision for Tubbo. I think if he wants to talk to his parents, we shouldn’t stop him.”

“But- what if. What if they… if they don’t, Phil? What if Tubbo goes back to them and they fuckin’... I don’t know, throw him out? They barely treat him like a person now, they don’t need another reason to- to…” He couldn’t finish, could bring himself to say what was on his mind. Really, what was the appropriate word to finish that sentence. Shun? Disregard? Hate? He didn’t know.

 

“Mate…” Phil trailed off when Tommy sent him a vicious glare. “Hold on. I’m on your side.”

“Then why do you think he should go back?”

“Because Tubbo cares a lot about his family. Even if they don’t give him that care back, they care about people a lot. I think it’s hard for him to let go, even if they’re aware it would be good for him. I think he deserves a chance to show himself to them, if he wants to, and I think they deserve a chance to see that hybridism isn’t wrong. But-” he stopped Tommy, who had tried to interrupt again, “If Tubbo doesn’t feel safe talking to his parents again, or they don’t want to try going back to their house, or they do try going back and something bad happens. Our door is always open for him, and I think they know that.”

Tommy huffed. “He better.”

 

He’d have liked to say more, but there was a groan from the mass of blankets in front of him, prompting Tommy to drop the conversation and instead focus on the bundle that housed his friend.

 

“Tubbo?” he quietly asked, trying to keep his voice low in case he wasn’t fully awake yet.

 

The bundle rustled, and a hand pushed out of the seams, pulling the blankets apart down the middle. Tubbo took a shaky breath, blinking the last of whatever fog manifesting brought on away from his eyes as he looked around the room. 

 

“Tommy!” a delighted sort of surprise ran through Tubbo’s voice. “You’re here!”

“What> did you think I was going to get tired of you?”

“I mean, a little bit. I didn’t think you were going to stay right beside me. I thought I Was supposed to be the clingy one.”

“You are. You are clingy. Shut up.”

 

Tubbo laughed, pulling himself further out of the mess of blankets. Tommy took the opportunity to fully look over his friend, taking in their new traits.

 

A pair of feathery, delicate-looking antennae was now present on their forehead, when Tubbo shook his head to readjust his hair, they swayed in motion, twitching as his new senses came online for the first time. Their eyes were also different: sclera now dark and shiny and distinctly inhuman. The most notable difference, thought, were the wings that sat on his back. They were thin and delicate, a pale green colour that reminded Tommy of fresh mint, with an almost triangular shape, though more rounded around the corners, nothing like Phil’s pointed, feathered wings. They fluttered gently, fanning out, and Tommy realized there were four  of the things, with the bottommost set having long tails that looked like they’d span to his ankles if he stood, and-

 

“Tubbo, you’re a fucking bug.” he deadpanned, not letting any of the awe he felt slip into his voice.

 

Tubbo grinned at him in a way that told him they knew he thought it was cool.

 

“Looks like you might be a Luna Moth, to get precise.” Phil added on, gesturing to Tubbo’s. “It’s a pretty distinct shape and colour to have. Also explains the blankets: your instincts thought you should have a cocoon.”

Tubbo hummed, taking his moment of freedom to stretch his limbs. “Prime, feels like it’s been forever since I moved.”

“You’ve been asleep for like, three days.” Tommy supplied.

 

“Really?”

“No, it’s been twenty minutes. Why the fuck would I lie to you, Tubbo?”

“Well- I wouldn’t know! I’ve been sleeping!”

 

“And you were fucking lame while you did it! I had to play Animal Crossing alone, Tubbo! All by myself, with no one to decorate with. Wilbur laughed at me.”

Tubbo scoffed. “Sounds torturous.”

“It was.”

“Of course. I’m so sorry for you, next time I’m going through metamorphosis I’ll say no.”

“As you should.”

 

The two stared each other down for a long moment before bursting into laughter, while Phil cleaned up the room around them, smiling lightly all the while.

 

Later in the night, after they’d had some food and Techno and Wilbur had seen Tubbo awake and well, the two friends sat beside each other on the sofa, some movie playing in the background. Tommy had stopped paying attention an hour ago, and he wasn’t sure Tubbo had even lasted that long. Tubbo shifted, nervousness practically radiating off of him, new wings shifting around and antennae never keeping still. Finally, Tommy caved, sighing heavily as he turned to fully look at Tubbo,

 

“What are you thinking about?”

“What?”

“You haven’t stopped fidgeting for half an hour, something’s bothering you. What is it?”

Tubbo took a moment to gather their thoughts, sighing as they finally seemed to find what they wanted to say. “I just… I don't know what my parents are going to think. They might not care, but… they also. Might think I’m weird. Or that I’m wearing a costume, or something. And I don’t… know if I could handle being told I don’t know who I am again.”

Tommy hummed rhythmically, tapping his fingers against the arm of the sofa. “There’s a lot to unpack there, Tubzo.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Don't be fuckin’ sorry, I asked you to tell me.” he tipped his head in thought. “You want my honest opinion?”

“Well, yeah, sort of.”

“Don’t think about it right now. It is an ungodly hour, you spent most of your day passed out, and we’ve watched too many movies to be having any life-changing thoughts. So don’t think about it right now. Think about it when you’re ready to, and I mean really ready to, because I don’t think you should be talking about people accepting you if you haven’t even accepted all this yourself, and I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure you have.”

Tubbo laughed, though there wasn’t much humour to it. “I mean, it is pretty surreal.”

“Ex-act-ly. Take some time, do whatever people who are soul searching do, and then, if you think you want to try talking to your parents. Do it. Until then, though… none of us would really mind if you stayed here, y’know.”

Tubbo looked at him, seeming to scrutinize him for a moment. Apparently, he found whatever he was looking for, because he smiled in a satisfied manner, leaning against Tommy’s side.

 

“Yeah… yeah, I think if Phil is okay with it, I’ll stay here for a bit.”

Tommy did not smile fondly when Tubbo, his friend, his brother, said that, and he definitely did not feel a pleasant warmth settle around his heart.

 

“You’re a good friend, you know that? Practically my brother.”


… fuck Wilbur and his insistence that Tommy was the clingy one anyways. He threw an arm around Tubbo’s shoulder, leaning into his brother, and let himself slip into slumber.

Notes:

so. let me explain what happened here. basically. I read how wings are really not that great in retrospect. banger fic. very good. go read it its a favourite of mine. And there's this one line right. like right near the start. and it goes:
"Well, Tubbo was at least glad he hadn't been forced to go to school. His parents would have made him without a second of thought."

and I went "haha. there's a parallel universe where tubbo did have to go to school while actively growing into hybrid traits." and then i really thought about it and went "hey wait that's a great concept hold on"

and now I have this. also apparently in the parallel universe Tubbo is a moth hybrid idk i like when tubbo is a bug

If you're interested in the mcyt fic community, consider joining The Writers Block! It's a great community for authors and readers alike! if you say you came from Verglas, I can come say hi :D

readers who leave comments get a complimentary reply from me, the author (real) (true)

if you've read this far, get a glass of water for yourself! it's always a good time to drink water <3