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Tommy was lounging on the couch after work when Clementine called. He had just come back from his shift, which had been extra difficult, involving grumpy old ladies and tired college students all testing his patience.
He groaned, stretching his arm over to pick up his phone lying on the coffee table. The contact on the screen read, “Moth Girl,” as he hit the answer button.
“Hey Clem, what’s up?”
“‘Sup Tommy, you up for hanging out today?”
“Uh yeah sure, what do you wanna do?”
“Well, I’m going to a concert later tonight and I have an extra ticket if you wanna come.”
Tommy looked at the clock on the corner of the TV. It read 2 PM, he didn’t have anything else to do.
“I’m down. What’s the band name?”
“They’re called the Sleepy Bois . They’re not huge but they have a couple popular songs so I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve heard them play.”
Tommy scanned his memory for any trace of the band, “I haven't heard of them, or at least I don’t remember.”
“Well one of my friends is the keyboardist so I figured I’d go to one of his shows.”
“Sweet, what time?”
“I’ll pick you up at 5. I’m sneaking sodas in, since drinks are so overpriced at the show, so we’ll stop by the gas station to get drinks.”
“Ok, I’ll bring cash, see ya’ then,” Tommy hangs up after exchanging goodbyes.
He looked at the time again. He had time to kill before Clem picked him up, so he scrolled through Netflix looking for a good documentary. He settled on one about jellyfish, letting it play in the background while he looked through his social media.
By the time Clem texted him to say she’s here, he’d already started a new documentary on sea lions and was deeply engrossed in facts about their pups. He paused it, saving it to his list, before heading out the door.
“Hi, Clem,” he greeted simply.
“Hi, Tommy, how’s life?”
“Pretty good right now, I was just watching a show about jellyfish and did you know that they’re 95% water?”
Clementine laughed and Tommy took that as a sign to rant about the ‘pogness’ of jellyfish. They settled into a comfortable rhythm, Tommy spurting random animal facts and Clementine commenting and asking questions about how Tommy was. He hadn’t seen her in a while, he’d been so busy with work and finishing his degree. He’d almost earned enough from his part-time job to pay off half his mom’s rent plus his own. Student debt was a work in progress, but he’d take his victories where he could get them.
They arrived at the gas station, and Tommy walked in to get a sprite for Clementine (because she’s a weirdo and doesn’t like coke.) and a coke for himself while she filled up the car.
As he slid back into the passenger seat he said, “So what about you? What have you been up to?”
Clementine closed the door and turned on the car again, “Nothing really,” she shrugged, “Just work and friends, it’s been pretty quiet.”
“Not even a pyramid scheme to fill the time?”
She laughed at the wide grin on Tommy’s face, “Nah, I would never commit crimes without you dude.”
“Thank goodness, I was worried you would forget about our evil plans to sell oreos to all the college students with toothpaste instead of that filling.”
“I can’t believe you actually did that.”
“All part of the charm, all part of the charm.”
“Doesn’t sound like charm to me, sounds like felonies,” Clementine shot back.
“The ladies these days love crime.”
“Tommy, I myself am a lady and let me tell you, crime is not on my green flag list.”
“Why do you think we’re just friends?”
“Because I would punch you if you tried to flirt with me.”
Tommy scoffed with fake hurt, “If I really wanted to I could seduce you like all my wives.”
“Are you SURE you wanna try that-”
They fell into friendly bickering and continued chatting until they reached the venue. After much strife from Tommy trying to drag Clementine to buy him an overpriced hot dog, and her protests of, ‘It’s a concert! You’re supposed to be singing. How are you going to sing with your mouth full of hotdog?’ they sat down in seats near the back of the auditorium. It was too far for them to see the band and truthfully they were horrible seats but Tommy wasn’t that interested in the actual band, he was just there for the ‘vibes’ as he’d loudly proclaimed when Clementine had apologized about the shitty seat placement.
Clem pulled out the smuggled drinks and they laughed at stupid jokes Tommy searched up on the internet while they waited for the starters to begin.
The opening songs were decently good, not exactly Tommy’s jam but Clem sang along to a couple of them. Finally the Sleepy Bois came on stage and began to play. Clementine knew most of the songs, while Tommy pulled up the lyrics on his phone so he could sing along. He made sure to turn down his brightness to avoid dirty stares from judgemental people wondering why he had lyrics out at a concert.
It was a good set, a couple hyped up songs at the beginning and one slower song Tommy could have sworn he’d heard before. It ended with a popular song Tommy had heard on the radio once that had the audience screaming. He hummed along at the chorus.
After the show was over and the band had gone off stage everyone was filing out of the room. Clementine turned to Tommy, “Do you mind if we go backstage? I wanna talk to my friend.”
“Yeah, sure. Which one was he?”
“They’re the keyboardist.”
Tommy smiles. He was once a keyboardist, “Cool.”
They wait for the crowd to clear out before slipping into the side door. They stood just inside the door while Clementine texted her friend. After a minute a tall person with split dyed hair appeared in the hallway, like freakishly tall.
“Ranboo! How’s it going?”
“Hi Clementine, I’m good. Tonight was a full show,” Ranboo said.
“Yeah I noticed that, do you normally get such large crowds?”
Ranboo smiled, a face mask covering his mouth and nose, but his eyes crinkled, “Not normally, but this IS a bigger city so I guess that makes sense.”
“Well, it was a good show.”
“Ah thanks, but I’m just the keyboardist,” they said awkwardly.
Tommy frowned, “Keyboard is like the best part though. I was one a couple years back and it's like the best position.”
Ranboo startled, as though he hadn’t noticed Tommy was standing there.
“This is Tommy, he’s a good friend from school,” Clementine introduced him.
“Sup,” Tommy said.
Ranboo gave him a little wave. He took a small breath and was about to say something until a voice sounded from behind them.
“Hey, Ranboo, do you know where my phone is, I think I put it down somewhere- oh.”
Tommy stared.
In front of him stood none other than Wilbur Soot.
“Tommy?” Wilbur whispered in disbelief.
—
The sounds of guitars, clashing drums, and obnoxious laughter bounced off the garage walls. Four teenagers were gathered together, joking around and playing random melodies from popular songs.
Wilbur was in the front, strumming the guitar, the pick pulling at the strings. Slightly behind him and to the side was Technoblade, holding a bass and looking at Tubbo with amusement as he banged the drums completely off beat to mess with Tommy, who was attempting to play Able Sisters from Animal Crossing, but kept messing up from Tubbo’s incessant clashing.
Wilbur stopped his playing to watch with laughter at the younger boy’s antics. Tommy finally played the song without messing up and shouted triumphantly, “HA! TAKE THAT BEE BOY!”
Tubbo grinned widely, despite his defeat, “Took you long enough.”
Techno smirked, “At least Tommy can hold a beat. Unlike someone I know,” he said, his eyes bouncing toward the guitarist.
“Why me? I did nothing to deserve this slander,” Wilbur protested.
“When I first met you, you messed up on the C scale because you couldn’t keep a beat,” Tommy deadpanned.
“THAT WAS LIKE 5 YEARS AGO YOU GREMLIN. I’M MUCH BETTER NOW.”
“Are you absolutely positive you can play a C scale?”
“YES YOU CHILD.”
“ I AM NOT A CHILD.”
“ARE TOO.”
“I’M ONLY A YEAR YOUNGER YOU FU-”
~~~
They all sat in a diner, the booths stained with some odd substance Tommy didn’t care to discover. They were discussing song lyrics and their meanings.
“I still think literally no-one will understand the meaning of these lyrics,” Tubbo declared.
Techno shot him a glare, “Anyone with a brain can tell what they mean.”
Wilbur snorted, “You mean anyone who’s read an unholy amount of Greek mythology and long dusty, old-englishy books?”
“The story of the Trojan War is common knowledge!”
“Nobody is going to get a single off-shoot lyric about a random ancient war in a fucking pop song dude.”
“WE DON’T PLAY POP!” Techno burst out.
“Well we kinda do, it's like a mix of everything really.”
An idea popped into Tommy’s head and he giggled, “Techno sounds like my English teacher. I swear she expects us to know every niche reference in history ever.”
“Oh my god,” Tubbo began, “you know how English teachers will overanalyze the shit out of old books? Can you imagine one trying to decipher one of the songs Techno wrote?”
Wilbur burst out laughing, “Ha! She’d be like- ‘this phrase mentioning the stone wall is referencing the-’ the fucking, I don’t know- ‘bricks in the artist’s house’ or some shit.”
The whole group doubled over cackling except for Techno.
“That doesn't even make any sense,” he pouted, obviously holding back laughter.
“That’s what makes it funny, duh,” Wilbur stated with a roll of his eyes, after recovering from his wheezing.
Techno also rolled his eyes, but everyone could see the amused gleam in his eyes.
~~~
Tommy was stressed.
Money was running a little tight, (screw that, a LOT tight) and his mom had just gotten fired from her job. He could only work so many shifts at the gas station without wanting to curl up and pass away. Plus, recently their landlord had been getting a tad bit annoyed about the lack of rent.
The point is, Tommy was stressed, and Stressed Tommy is not someone that should be taken lightly.
He had stormed into the garage, startling his fellow band members and plopping down onto the worn keyboard bench. Wilbur looked hesitant, Tubbo looked worried and Techno looked downright emotionally constipated.
“We ready to start practice?” Wilbur began cautiously, after glancing around nervously.
Tommy knew everyone was looking at him which was why he kept his sight placed firmly on the keys in front of him. When no-one answered Wilbur, he just grunted uncomfortably and said, “Ok, let's start then.”
It was a tense practice, and mostly silent of chatter, barring the occasional comment from Wilbur. Tommy had been doing pretty well until he messed up a cord on a hard song. A discordant sound rang through the room, making everyone wince.
Tommy suddenly felt the need to punch something. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, waiting for Wilbur to count them down again. If he just made it through this practice he could clock in for another shift and perhaps be able to go to the store for essential groceries on the way back. He clung to the thought.
Wilbur started them again and Tommy hit the right notes this time. He breathed a sigh of relief, the need for violence fading from his brain. That was, until he messed up again.
It was dead silent as the other members braced themselves for an outburst. Still they weren’t prepared for the level of anger.
Frustration exploded out of Tommy, as he smashed his hands on the keyboard, a piercing combination of keys that hurt his ears. He just needed to get away and get some more cash for his mom.
I need to help Mom.
Mom needs help.
I’m not helping enough.
He just can’t do anything right, can he?
Wilbur rushed to Tommy’s side, placing a calming hand on his shoulder, “Tommy don’t worry about it right now. I can spare you some money for groceries, just don’t hurt yourself.”
Yeah that was the wrong fucking thing to say.
If there’s something Tommy hated more than being stressed it was being pitied.
“I DON’T NEED YOUR PITY MONEY!” He burst out, pushing Wilbur’s hand off his shoulder and turning to face him, face growing red with anger and frustration.
Shame filled him at the thought of needing money from his friends. He was a big man, he should be able to handle taking care of himself and his mom.
Wilbur winced but continued on calmly, “It's not pity, it’s just because we love you and we don’t want you to worry.”
“But it is pity, isn’t it? I don’t want your fucking money Wilbur Soot,” Tommy said his name like an insult, voice cracking half-way through. Why was he yelling at his best friend? What was he doing?
He looked around in shock. Techno looked like he was going to die from awkwardness and Tubbo appeared to be holding back startled tears. That was Tommy’s fault. He had ruined the practice. Shit, the whole day really.
He couldn’t handle it anymore, the tension both in the room and in his mind. Tommy ran out of the garage, trying not to scream from frustration. He sprinted to his bike and mounted it with unshed tears clouding his vision. Before he could stop himself, he started biking at top speed up the hill and to his apartment. He arrived at his home in a blur, not stopping at his mom’s questioning but going straight to his bed. He made sure to turn off his phone so that the questioning messages wouldn’t bother him. He closed his aching eyes and immediately fell asleep from exhaustion.
The next day, Tommy kept his phone off. He told himself it was because he didn't want distractions at work, despite the fact that the gas station barely had customers come in, and he always had time to joke with his friends over text. He worked all day, stopping only when his manager came in for the second time that day and exclaimed that he was overworking himself and he needed to break for the day. Tommy knew he was right, but he couldn’t help but feel angry at his boss for making him stop working.
He arrived back at his apartment, and was greeted by the sight of his mom crying.
“We’re being kicked out,” she explained through heavy words, “We’re moving to the city. Say goodbye to your friends.”
Tommy looked at her in shock. He was moving? Away from the small town he had been born in, had always lived in?
His mom met his teary gaze, “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The rest of the day was a blur. He never had the time to turn his phone on, between packing and loading up the little boxes of stuff they owned into the back of their little truck. He remembered folding up his portable keyboard and stuffing it in the back seat of the car. He remembered looking back at the empty apartment for the last time before turning away.
The car ride to the city was through hours of farmland, without internet.
Which means nothing goes through.
Which means Tommy never saw the frantic messages from his friends, asking where he was.
He never saw the dozens of missed calls from Wilbur, begging to be answered.
When he finally turned on his phone he only saw the blank screen, void of any messages or unanswered calls.
Tommy’s former band members obviously didn’t care enough to call. They didn’t want to hear from him. His heart felt raw from loss. He lost his town and his friends.
Nothing to do but start again in a whole new city, with nothing but a couple boxes in the truck and his mother in the seat beside him. He debated, it felt like hundreds of times, to pick up the phone and click on any of three contacts. But they didn’t want to hear from him, otherwise why didn’t they call?
Nothing to do but start again.
—
“Tommy?” Wilbur whispered in disbelief.
Tommy flinched back and his eyes shot to the floor, not daring to look his former band member straight on.
“Tommy, is that actually you?” he asked softly, eyes wide.
He wasn’t sure what to do so he just said meekly, “Yeah.”
Wilbur’s face went through a whole range of expressions, “Where- I thought- we thought you were gone forever.”
Tommy winced, “Sorry, didn’t know you were in a new band. I’ll- sorry- I’ll go now.”
“Wait!” Wilbur looked desperate, “Don’t leave, please. I miss you. We miss you.”
“We?” Tommy’s face scrunched up.
Wilbur’s brow furrowed, a motion that years ago, Tommy would have teased him endlessly about, “The band?”
“Like, your new one? I don’t know if they know me dude.”
Wilbur’s brow wrinkled even more, “No, like Tubbo and Techno… obviously.”
Tommy felt his breath catch, “They’re here?”
Wilbur nodded.
“Can,” he paused hesitantly, “Can I take you to them?”
Tommy froze for a second. Then he bobbed his head up and down awkwardly, too stunned to accept verbally.
Promptly ignoring Clementine and Ranboo’s utter bewilderment, Wilbur motioned for Tommy to follow him backstage. Tommy felt his stomach do flips. He wrung his hands out anxiously, not bothering to hide his nervousness.
They reached the other side of the stage, after about thirty seconds of awkward silence. Wilbur opened the door and held it open for Tommy, Clementine and Ranboo to walk in.
Ranboo entered first.
“Oh hey, Ranboo, Wilbur was just looking for you!” a cheerful, but unfamiliar voice proclaimed. As Tommy entered he saw it belonged to a man with blond hair and blue eyes similar to his own. His gaze shifted to the people standing next to the man. Tubbo and Techno gaped blatantly at him, not even trying to hide their surprise.
Wilbur stepped to the side of Tommy and cleared his throat. Tubbo and Techno turned their eyes to him, mouths still hanging open.
“So… this is Tommy.”
“Yeah no shit,” Tubbo exclaimed, “Where did he come from?”
Tommy recoiled. Tubbo did not sound happy at his appearance. Tommy felt almost relieved. That reaction made much more sense than Wilbur’s.
Wilbur winced, “Tubbo, maybe try to sound less harsh next time.”
Tubbo’s eyes widened, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just surprised, my bad,” he trailed off.
“Sooooo,” Ranboo cut in, “who’s he?”
Techno answered, “Tommy was our old keyboardist back in our old hometown. He kinda just disappeared.”
“Was this three years ago?” Clementine asked quietly. The other three members nodded.
“Oh, that's when- oh,” she shot Tommy a knowing look.
“That's when what?” Tubbo asked.
Clem looked torn. She gave Tommy a look and he cleared his throat.
“Uh, well we got kicked out of our apartment, my mom and I, and then we had to move to the city. We left on… bad terms. I never got to say goodbye and then you never texted me so I figured you didn’t want to see me,” he explained quietly.
Wilbur’s eyebrows scrunched even tighter together, “What do you mean we never texted you? We called and texted dozens of times those first couple days. Then you never answered so we kinda thought you hated us.”
“What? No, I never got any calls or texts. What are you talking about?”
“Tommy, that's all we did for two hours the day we realized your apartment was empty,” Techno said calmly.
“No, I never- oh.”
He didn’t have internet. They did try to talk to him. They didn’t hate him for leaving him.
“What does ‘oh’ mean?” Wilbur demanded.
“On the trip to the city, you know that area of farmland that has no wifi?” The room was silent except for a quiet gasp from Tubbo as they all realized what had happened, “I guess I was in that for the entire time you were trying to contact me.”
After a minute, Techno put his hands over his face, “This is so stupid, we could have been in communication for the past three years if those calls went through.”
Tubbo snorted, “That is pretty dumb.”
Tommy finally noticed the blond man was still standing next to Techno looking incredibly uncomfortable, and laughed, more to himself than anyone else.
“I just realized I don’t even know your name and you just heard all of our friend trauma.”
The man smiled awkwardly, “Hi mate, I’m Phil. I’m the backup guitarist.”
“Hi, Phil. How old are you?”
Phil looked taken aback but responded anyway, “Uh 26, why?”
Tommy snickered, “You’re old.”
“Is that… supposed to be an insult or are you just- what?”
Wilbur grinned and pulled Tommy into a hug. Tubbo and Techno followed suit, despite Techno’s slight disdain for touch.
“We missed you Tommy.”
Tommy buried his face into Wilbur’s sweater, warm from the hot lights of the stage.
“I missed you too.”
There was nothing left to do but start again.