SBI - His Curse of Binding

9

If you would have told Tommy that decorating a room took this much effort, he would have called up one of those celebrities on TV to do it for him. But generally, the people chosen for those shows had sob stories and he didn't know if being cursed to go through puberty over and over again was the kind of sob story they were looking for. Having to revisit the embarrassment of your voice cracking in the middle of a sentence sounded depressing enough.

The box of LED lights that Phil had bought for him remained unopened because he refused to set that up himself. He could get Ranboo to do it, the fucker was tall enough to reach the ceiling and if God made someone that tall, forced labour was a fair consequence.

Tommy peeled the back off an adhesive strip and stuck it on the wall. All the drawings and images he had gathered from his time at school sat on the end of the bed. Most of them were things Tubbo had thrown at him whilst in maths class, which ranged from his attempted spelling at German words to a drawing of the Eifel Tower (it was the wrong shape, but all that mattered was that he tried).

He didn't have an artistic approach to where he was going to stick these things, but doing it randomly seemed to fit the aesthetic he wanted.

"Please for the love of God, stick the pictures so they aren't wonky." Tommy yelped out at the sudden voice over his shoulder. He spun around and punched Wilbur in the shoulder. He didn't even notice the man opening his bedroom door.

"You fucker!" Tommy punched him again until Wilbur stopped laughing at him.

"I came in here to ask you a very important question," Wilbur began as he took the adhesive stirp box out of Tommy's hands. "What are you getting me for Christmas?"

"Uh, nothing? I don't know."

He hadn't thought about it. To be honest, it didn't even cross his mind that this household might expect Christmas presents or include him in the holiday that was only a couple of days away.

"Fine. I'll return your gift then."

Tommy stopped what he was doing and blinked at Wilbur, dumbfounded. He tried to find any indication in the man's face that Wilbur was messing with him but failed.

"You got me a Christmas present?" he asked, his voice vulnerable.

Wilbur frowned at him. "I mean, I could easily take it back into the shop—"

"No!" Tommy jumped forward and held Wilbur in place with his hands on his shoulders. "Nope, you're giving me that shit."

"Fine," Wilbur said, grinning. "I won't resell your present."

"And I keep it?" Tommy asked, trying to keep his excitement to himself.

"Of course you keep it. Why would I take it back?"

Tommy dropped his hands from Wilbur's shoulders. "It's something the last family did."

Christmas was just another cash-grab whilst living in a household that exploited foster children and their glee for a festive holiday for views and subscribers on a shit YouTube vlogging channel. Decorations were placed in angles only the camera would view, empty boxes plastered with expensive gift wrapping sat under the Christmas tree that the children weren't allowed to go near.

"You keep them," Wilbur confirmed again, more concerned than before. "I've stuck all the strips straight now. Have fun decorating."

Ignoring Wilbur's quick exit, Tommy went back to decorating.

The last picture he stuck up before dealing with the LED lights was Tubbo's drawing of a rocket ship, which had a stick man attached to the side of it (Tubbo later clarified that it was supposed to be Ranboo). Later when he finished setting up the LED lights without blowing up the house, he unlocked his phone and opened the Notes app, creating a new one named 'Christmas present ideas'. He had Phil and Techno sorted but couldn't think of anything for Wilbur. Besides maybe a slap across the face. That didn't seem appropriate for Christmas though.