Through Potions and Books it's still, you isn't it?

Chapter twenty-three

Wilbur hadn't moved a single inch towards the people kneeling next to the vigilante (the person responsible for his recurring nightmares, the person to have sent him to his personal hell at the ripe age of twenty). Eret was still working, though he could see the exhaustion in their eyes, their body already slumping down a little as the faint glow around their hands continued. Tubbo and Tommy still sat kneeling next to the young teen, the blonde having put his friend's head in his lap, controlling the breathing and pulse. His hands had still been uncovered, the leaves he held prior discarded in the snow. Nothing happened, his subconscious not wanting the young teen to get hurt and therefore held his power at bay.

The brunette had taken to wrapping up all visible gashes and injuries in soaked bandages, the empty flask which had been filled with a healing potion prior to sitting next to them in the snow. The wrapping was sloppy, blood had already seeped through some of the bandages despite the healer's energy and the potion, and they could see his shaking hand (could see the tears running down the young hero's face).

Phil wore a conflicted expression, clearly not having been prepared for a confrontation between his son's murderer and them, clearly not prepared for the vigilante to be a kid as well. Truly, how many literal child vigilantes were out there? First Tommy, then Crumb and now Void? It was already questionable for the corporation to have sent Tubbo out on patrols, even if there was always at least one adult, fully-fledged hero with him. But that was the corporation, and they already knew that something was deeply wrong with the corporation and the way they viewed powered individuals (especially those with classified powers, such as their own).

His wings twitched with every movement the three people in front of him did, offering support in the teen's aid nonetheless. A kid. Another godforsaken kid. They couldn't be older than Tommy or Tubbo either, and yet they had already been through the hard work of people who had specifically been trained to handle highly dangerous situations. Had definitely been injured by the work many times before with very little resources and support.

Of course, Void had had this training. The way Wilbur reacted and the way Tubbo spoke about the academy's training despite never having attended the hero academy was more than enough proof. This was Ender and he was a child.

Gods help him.

"We need to get him inside," Eret muttered under their breath, hands now no longer glowing as they exhaled deeply, "it's too cold, and his clothes are already wet, with his condition the cold might send him into shock."

Phil was pretty sure that had already happened but nodded nonetheless. Was he a fan of harbouring the person who had killed his son? Absolutely not. But he understood that this was Tommy's and Tubbo's friend, perhaps even best friend, and the way the brunette had glared at him during the meeting made it more than clear that they were protective of him. He glanced over at Wilbur, the brunette's expression unreadable, form still rigid. Pursing his lips a little, the Elytrian then made a small chirrup, a Flock call which caught the man's attention immediately. Their eyes met, and they had a quiet conversation with looks alone.

Are you okay with this?

No.

"Phil?" Tommy's voice was shaking, "could you?" The teen then gestured to Void's unconscious form, silently begging the man to carry him inside.

"He'll need more potions," Eret said, still a little out of breath as they shakily got to their feet, "there's- I can't explain it, there's too much energy in his body but then also too little, he's weak but also not. It doesn't make sense."

The older blonde's expression was conflicted, and he looked at the pleading face of his son before looking back at the brunette. A moment of quiet eye contact, too many emotions to count swirling in hazel eyes before the brunette nodded curtly and then turned around on the spot, marching inside the house.