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Dream
Phil
is Tommy doing okay?
he sounded kinda down in our call
yesterday

Philza Minecraft
He's just staying with us for a bit
while he works some stuff out.

Dream
he said something about his parents, do
you know what's going on with them?

Philza Minecraft
Yeah.
He's dealing with them at the moment.
He just has a lot on his plate right
now.

Dream
ok so he's okay?
cause he tried to tell me something
about them but he obviously didn't feel
comfortable with talking about it so I
said that he could tell me another time
if he wants to

Philza Minecraft
Oh he was going to tell you?

Dream
yeah but I don't think he's ok with me
knowing yet
it's fine
I'll let him tell me in his own time

Dream
I just want to know if he's okay

Philza Minecraft
Yeah.
Okay.

Dream
so is he okay?

Philza Minecraft
We're working on it.

Dream
ok
thank you phil

---

Under the dim lighting in the dining room, it's quiet - other than the sound of cutlery clinking against china. Phil swallows his bite of spaghetti and says, "Oh- um, Tommy. Dream messaged me today."

Tommy freezes in the middle of his mouthful and looks at him from over the dinner table - tense. "He did?"

"Yeah, he was asking about your parents," he goes back to his food. "And, like, if you're okay. He said you seemed...down." His two sons are listening silently, eyes fixed down on their meals.

"What did you tell him?"

After a beat, Phil says, "I said you're working on it - being okay." He doesn't look up.

"Which is true, you- we are working on it." Tommy glances up at Wilbur, his rushed words an attempt to raise the tense blanket that has fallen over the table.

"He said you seemed...down. I guess- would you-" Words catch in Phil's throat as he figures out how to put his internal thoughts into a comprehensible structure - it's as if one word stopped and the rest piled up behind it in a messy clump of letters: a bottleneck traffic jam. "Are you okay, Tommy?"

"Oh. Um." A beat passes. "Yeah, I'm- I'm working on it, like you said. And- you guys are helping, a lot. Really, thank you."

The pink-haired man, who had been silent this entire conversation, clears his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, uh- no worries, Tommy." It's clear he's not used to showing affection, hesitantly stuttering. "We're your friends, basically your second family, it's our job."

He's saved from his attempt by his father, who lovingly says, "We help you because we care about you, mate. We care about you, and we love you, Tommy."

Hot tears fill Tommy's eyes, spilling out and tracking clear lines down his face. He blinks them away and Wilbur stands up and pulls him into the most comforting hug he's felt in a while. He melts into it, tears leaving a temporary dark spot on his friend's sweater. Hands slide into and run through his hair, fingers softly carding through spun gold. "Thank you." It's muffled, but the three other men at the table can tell what Tommy says.

Techno smiles. "Yeah, whatever, nerd. C'mon, eat your spaghetti, it's getting cold.

547 words

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