Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Theseus was born from the stars.

He was made of little bits of seashell and sand, crushed together and molded with spring water and mud. His lungs were full of wind from mountains that rose so high they disappeared into the clouds. His eyes were full of the rising dawn, pale blue painted across the sky like watercolor. His flesh was made of moss and grass and tiny bits of flowers. His hair was made of clouds and fields of rye that rippled like scarves when the wind danced through them. His heart was full of magma, fiery and bright and with a light built to never burn out. And yet he looked so human. with baby blue eyes and sunshine blonde hair, pale skin with a rose colored tint, a smile like freshly fallen snow, a laugh like birdsong. And though years and eons had passed, he hardly changed, still untainted and young, barely a teen.

Theseus was born from the stars, and placed on earth long ago to keep it company, to look after it. To care for the foliage and brambles and animals and flowers. He made his home in the very forest he first woke up in.

His woods were precious. It was a large forest, plentiful of foliage and animals and clean flowing water, of sun that poured golden droplets down onto the leaves and grass. He’d claimed it as his home, dedicating himself to it and healing every broken branch, every dying flower, every lost animal that could not find their way home.

So of course, when he found new creatures in his home, funny little beings called humans, he was overjoyed. They looked like him, some taller and older, some so small he could hold them in his arms. But none of them glowed with the same light he had, the one that rippled underneath his skin and was present in his starry eyes. And still he loved them nonetheless, and took immediately to protecting them as he had every other plant and animal in his forest.

Many of them were kind. They gave him food even when he insisted he did not need food to live, only sunlight and love. They gave him gifts no matter how much he told them to keep them. They offered him a place to stay even when he insisted that the grass was the only bed he could need.

At first they worshiped the ground he walked upon, marveling and caring for every little flower bud that sprouted under his feet or from the tips of his fingers. But soon, after many many days of Theseus kindly reminding them that they were his equal, they instead began treating him as a friend, as one of their own children of the village. The kids ran with him and playfully teased him, and the adults made him food and taught him to read and write, and gave him clothes of fine silk to wear.

Theseus helped the humans with everything he could. He ran through their fields of crops and made sure they flourished. He cared for the animals and kept them safe, driving away predators and leading them somewhere else where they would not disturb the villagers’ animals. (Still, he made sure they were fed, because these predators were too, his.) He promised them bountiful harvests and kept the chill of winter away whenever it came, flooding their town in sunrays.

He loved, and he was loved. He stayed with them as seasons passed, happy.

Until soon, he noticed something off. Something unkind in his perfect world.

He didn’t mind giving the humans whatever they asked for, whenever they needed his help, they were creatures in his forest and it was his job to care for them. But they always asked for more. More than they needed. No animal had ever asked for more than two good meals a day, while the humans insisted on gathering and gathering until their homes were full. And they did not share as kindly either, not even with each other. They chopped down his trees even when they did not need more firewood, as he blessed their days with sun. He could light their fires for them, and use the living trees to build their houses strong and tall. But they needed more. They always asked for more. They killed his animals for food when they did not need more, already fed enough. He always made sure to lay the animals to sleep before they were killed, and made sure they felt no suffering. Not many of the humans cared about that. He’d been foolishly blind to it before, how they took and took and took without remorse. They were his creatures, and he was simply caring for them. Right?

It began to tire him.

He smiled kindly when he helped their crops grow, watching as they added it to the piles they already had, and he ignored the pain and exhaustion lying deep in his bones. With every chopped down tree or flower cut to fill a vase, he lost the energy to run, lost the energy to play, lost the energy to even offer his friends a real smile. His eyes lost their blue tint, and his golden hair muddied. Blemishes bloomed on his skin, dark purple puddles pooling underneath his eyes.

In the nights when the villagers were asleep, he would sneak off into the woods and mourn the animals they’d taken, , dropping a pebble into a pond for each one. He mourned the bugs they’d carelessly stepped on, the trees they had chopped down, the flowers they had killed. His tears fell like shooting stars onto the grass, and he grew tired with each fallen drop.

But still, even as his exhaustion grew, and flowers no longer budded where he walked, and the animals were wary to approach him, he forced himself to look after the humans, to care for them, because they were in his forest.

Where he lay now, Theseus curses himself for being so foolish.

ꕥ

It happened on a day like any other. Theseus woke up cold, shivering in his bed of moss. He used to make his bed closer to the village, in a blanket of leaves in the town square, or a branch overhanging the buildings, but he’d found himself trying to distance himself from them recently.
Theseus stretched his arms over his head with a groan, pinching his eyes shut. He tilted his head back, and smiled at the foliage hanging over him.
“Good morning,” He said softly to the forest. The branches overhead swayed lightly in greeting, and began to shift, allowing the sun to pour through onto the forest floor, blanketing him in warmth. The boy smiled at the light woven over his skin and pulled himself to his feet with a calm sigh. He could hear birds chirping all around, fluttering around the treetops and singing out into the forest. For a moment he just stood there, listening, letting the wind flow past him and twirl through his hair.

Theseus began to walk forward into the trees, through the golden droplets of sun that spilled through the leaves and onto the grass. He began to go through the things he needed to do today. A rabbit in the north edge of the forest had just had a new litter and Theseus needed to check on them again, make sure they were all still okay. There was also a bear who had a sick cub. Now, Theseus had no power over sickness, or injury, but he knew every single plant that could help combat it. The pup wasn’t deathly sick, but he was going to need a few days to get over it. And then he still had to-

Theseus stopped in place, his face falling. The birds stopped chirping for a moment, feeling the shift in the air. The sunlight dimmed a little bit.

He had to check in with the village.

Theseus pursed his lips, looking down at the grass, dreading.

He didn’t….dislike the humans, he didn’t dislike anyone! They were just…strange…different..

greedy something whispered.

Theseus shook the thought away and continued walking, now turning in the direction of the village. Every animal was different, he just needed to wait for the humans to realize he’d give them whatever they needed, they didn’t have to hoard things! He would never let them go hungry.

He slowed down as he walked, dragging his feet along the grass. He would go check in on them first, there was always something they needed his help with. He sighed and ignored the exhaustion seeping into his bones at only the thought.

ꕥ

Theseus pressed his lips tightly together, grinding his teeth. The vines underneath his hands slowly began to slither away, between the cracks and the stone wall. They protested against him, and Theseus frowned sadly, but continued to move them away.

He continued forcing them back until the vines had moved off of the walls of the house, and instead led them to the edge of the village, back into the forest. He let out a heavy breath, wiping at the sweat on his brow. It had taken far more effort than it should have to move them. It would never have taken him that long before.

“Thank you Theseus,” The woman behind him praised, smiling toothily, “Those plants just make the place look so cluttered!” Theseus didn’t respond, just turned around to face her with a strained smile. Personally, he thought they made the village look beautiful. Everything was just muted grays and browns now, all the plants moved away. All the trees in the town square had been cut down, the villagers claiming they took up too much room. The only flora left were in flower vases tucked away in houses. They asked that Theseus not bring his plants into the village anymore, because they “made a mess.”

“Well, that’s all I needed from you, I’ll come get you if they come back, alright?” She turned to walk away, waving at him from over her shoulder. Theseus nodded, waving back.

As soon as the woman was out of sight, Theseus slumped, his smile withering. His hands were shaking just a bit from the effort of moving the vines. He crossed his arms and walked forward to go see who else needed him. There was always something needed to be done, crops to aid, animals to feed, plants to move away from the village, so called “weeds” to get rid of.

As Theseus walked, the sound of quarreling voices rang through his ears. Theseus looked up, glancing around the street. He picked up the pace a bit, worry writhing in his gut, until soon he was running through the streets, weaving in between houses. The voices grew louder as he ran closer and closer to the village square.

He ran into the center of town, and was met by a crowd of people, all hunched together in one wide circle. The humans were angry at something, hissing and shouting and shaking their fists.
“Street Rat!”
“Get lost!”

Theseus frowned, concern knotting in his chest. He stepped forward and began trying to push through the crowd to see what they were all surrounding. If something was threatening them, he needed to quickly drive it away so they didn’t hurt each other. He ducked between people, trying his best not to shove or be rude. Finally he found himself at the front of the crowd, and his eyes widened, the moment in front of him seeming to stop in place.

There were three people in the center of the crowd, two of them huddled close to each other. One of them, a girl, was clutching a small loaf of bread to her chest and shielding the small boy behind her. He recognized both of them. He’d seen them fleetingly, hovering in the alleys between houses, watching him curiously, but never approaching. And now they were shivering with fear.

And above them stood a man, rage burning in his eyes. Theseus recognized him too. as a baker that lived on the east side of town. He was always very gruff, and always needed Theseus to help with his wheat farm. He never thanked Theseus for his help or shared his bread like a few of the other villagers did. Theseus never hung out with him for long.

Theseus narrowed his eyes, looking around. Every other villager looked angry, their eyes turned down toward the children. What was going on? Why were they all upset?

As Theseus watched, an unnerved presence rooted deep in his stomach, the man standing over the two kids leaned forward

And then with a dangerous aggression, he shoved the girl.

The girl yelped, falling onto the ground with a sharp crack and dropping her loaf of bread, the other younger boy crying out in alarm. She grabbed her head with a whine.

Theseus felt the world go cold. Blood rushed in his ears. A fiery, sharp feeling he had never known before rippled through him. He felt like he could only watch as the girl picked herself up, stammering apologies, the man snarling at them the whole while.

“Don’t you dare ever come back here! You stay far away from us, you brats!” he shouted, with no remorse for what he’d done, and this time he pulled his leg back, going to kick the child.

“STOP!”

The man looked up suddenly at the outburst from the crowd with angry surprise, and at that moment something pulled his feet out from under him. Vines broke through the cobblestone path, shooting out and curling around the angry man. The crowd gasped as he was tugged down. He slammed into the ground with a grunt, green vines restraining him in place.

“What in-?!” He barked, trying to twist out of the vines, but they only tightened around his legs, pinning his wrists down.

The crowd stepped back as a boy walked forward, the villagers speaking in hushed, worried whispers.

Theseus stomped up to the man, face twisted in fury, and fire burning in his eyes. More vines broke free from the stone beneath his feet and trailed after him, slithering along the ground. Plants grew where he stepped, spreading across the village square. People jumped back in surprise as vines and moss crept toward them. The sunlight overhead grew dim, and wind began to blow through the town with a ghostly howl.

“How dare you,” Theseus hissed, stalking forward until he was standing over the man. The two children cowered away, watching him with wide eyes. He didn’t take his eyes off the person lying on the ground in front of him, heat in his gaze.

The man only growled back, writhing against the vines,
“Get these things off me, beast!”

“What made you think that was acceptable?!” Theseus screamed, gesturing wildly to the two kids.

“Those thieves stole from me!”

“And?”

“I have a business to run, and they didn’t pay!”

“They are children! They are your own kind! I have seen your store, you have more than enough to offer them,” Theseus spat, firelight flickering in his angry gaze. “They shouldn’t have to pay! These are your own kind, humans, just like you! And they’re kids! You should look after them, take care of them!” He looked over his shoulder at the two children. The girl had picked herself up completely, and had the younger boy nestled closely, his head tucked under her chin. She was staring at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, bruises on her legs. Humans were so fragile, hurt so easily.

Theseus grit his teeth, turning back to the man,
“And you hurt them.” He turned back to the crowd, “All of you! You encouraged this! You yelled profanities at these children and preyed on violence! You should all feel ashamed!”

The villagers blinked at him, some with mouths open in shock. Mutterings and whispers rippled through the crowd, tinged by uncertainty.

A man at the front of the crowd hesitantly spoke up, his voice trembling as he held his hat in his hands
“T-Theseus, these children don’t belong to our village. They’re not from here! We---it is not our responsibility to care for them!”

“Are they not human?” He hissed, “Are they not flesh and blood, like yourself? You would just abandon them, and then when they sought survival, you would ridicule them? If you were in their place, and no one who should care for you would, would you not have done the same thing?”

The man looked away, pressing his lips in a thin line, avoiding Theseus’s eyes.

Theseus scoffed,
“Of all the animals I have known, you all are the cruelest, most wasteful, greediest ones. All you do is take and take and take. What do you give? If you cannot even offer kindness to your own, your own babies, then who do you have kindness for?”

No villager answered. He looked at these people he had known and cared for for years, and none of them could respond, avoiding his eyes and shuffling their feet, some with angry scowls. He knew every one of them, every face he recognized, but here they stood like he had never met them before.

Theseus quietly turned, facing the man again. He hated the feeling of anger, burning brilliant in his chest, fueled by the humans’ insolence.

But he loved them. Why did he still feel like he had to love them?

He wanted both feelings to stop. But he couldn’t quench either.

“Get out of my sight.”

The vines wrapping around the man retreated, and as soon as they were gone he scrambled to his feet and backed away. For a moment he stared at Theseus widely, before his face darkened, and he stalked away, scowling. The other villagers began to walk away, staring warily at Theseus over their shoulders before hurrying down the streets and back to their homes. Some lingered far away, watching him with their faces pinched together, muttering to each other in whispers.

In minutes the village square was empty, the town gone completely silent. Theseus seethed where he stood, fists clenched at his side. His entire body buzzed with heat, anger tasting like poison on his tongue. He wanted this feeling gone. It was painful and searing.

Theseus took a deep breath, until the howling winds began to calm. The vines covering the ground no longer slithered, but stayed rooted in place, the cobblestone cracked and destroyed by it.

He stood there until he had calmed, his fists unclenching as he let his hands fall down at his sides.

He froze at the sound of a tiny whimper behind him, and slowly turned.

The two children were still there, standing, but trembling. They stared at him with wide, terrified looks, and Theseus felt guilt writhe in his chest.
He moved to fully face them, and carefully walked forward. The girl inhaled sharply, and stumbled backward, dragging the boy along with her, but Theseus quickly hushed her.

“It’s alright,” He soothed, holding his hands out, “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

The girl was breathing in short, ragged breaths, but she forced herself to nod hesitantly.

“Are you okay?” Theseus asked, eyes flickering to her scuffed knees.

She nodded again, inhaling deeply,
“It’s-It’s just a scratch…”

Theseus hummed. He looked at the loaf of bread in her hands, covered in dirt, and grimaced.
“Here, come with me, I’ll get you something better to eat,” He turned away and began walking through the street. He heard the two kids scramble to follow behind him, jumping at the promise of food. It made his flowered heart ache.

The villagers watched them go with dark eyes, staring not at the children following him, but at Theseus.

Theseus led them out of the village, toward where a small pond lay in the woods. The two kids seemed wary to go with him, but they marveled at the forest with wide eyes when they entered it, mouths hung open in awe. Theseus smiled with pride. Not many took the time to appreciate the forest for all the magic it carried. He could spend days watching the sun rays spill through the leaves, or listening to the steady flow of a river running over the rocks.

“Here,” He said, kneeling down in the grass. The kids watched curiously as he pressed his hands into the grass, tilting their heads, the girl still clinging to the dirty bread loaf.

Underneath his palms, brambles began to sprout, leaves spilling onto the grass and growing up into the air. The children gasped, staring starstruck as more leaves twisted together, branches stretching out, flowers budding. And then berries began to grow all along the bush, sweet ripe raspberries sprouting and thriving.

When enough had grown, he sat back, taking in a deep breath and wiping at the sweat on his forehead.
“There,” Theseus breathed with a tiny smile, pulling himself to his feet and turning back around to face the kids, “Take all you need.”

The two kids blinked, before quickly scrambling forward, dropping onto the ground beside the hearty bush, abandoning the dirty loaf of bread on the ground. They took handfuls of the raspberries, eating them greedily, but Theseus didn’t feel anger at the notion. If the other humans had been keeping food from them, they were starving. Theseus didn’t need to eat, not like the humans did, but he had heard from the humans how much hunger could damage them.

As the children continued to eat, he picked up the loaf of bread from the ground and walked over to the edge of the pond.

After a few seconds, a few fish began to float hesitantly over to him, koi and minnows and all other kinds of fish, even a couple of turtles. Theseus smiled, tearing off a few bits of the bread and tossing it into the water. The fish jumped at the food, and he watched fondly as they took it.

ꕥ

“Excuse me, Sir?” a voice came from behind him a few minutes later. He turned, eyes lighting up.

The girl stood behind him, the boy he assumed to be her brother standing warily behind her, clinging to her dress.
Theseus smiled back kindly, tearing up the last of the bread and tossing it into the water. “Just call me Theseus. Are you both alright?” He asked softly, pushing himself to his feet.

The girl smiled back weakly, nodding.
“I--I wanted to say thank you.”

“Of course,” He grinned back, “I’m--I’m sorry if I startled you, I was just angry with the other humans.”

“It’s alright,” The girl looked down at the smaller boy, resting her hand on his head. Theseus turned back to the pond, then kneeled down and held his palm out, hovering his hand over the grass. Another plant began to sprout, wide, curved leaves flourishing from it. He gently picked two of them off of the plant and lowered them into the water in front of him, letting the sturdy leaves fill up. Then he stood back up and held them out to the kids. They narrowed their eyes at it.

“Don’t worry, it’s clean.”

They picked them up carefully, and took small sips of the water.

“What are your names?” Theseus sat back on the grass, tilting his head to the side.

The girl cleared her throat,
“Clementine,” She looked down at the boy again, “This is my little brother, Henry.”

Henry peeked out from behind Clementine, and waved shyly. Theseus waved back with a grin.

“Thank you, again,” Clementine said quietly, and Theseus smiled back at her somberly.

“Of course,” He simpered, and his expression fell bitterly, the boy turning away, “It’s awful what they did to you. Just cause you didn’t, what, pay? I’ve always thought the idea of money is stupid anyway. I still---I still don’t believe they would do that…” He looked back at her, pulling his knees to his chest. “How---How long have they been doing this to you? I’ve never seen it happen before but..” his eyes lingered on the bruises on her knees.

“Not…Not that long. We were just looking for a place to stay. Got here about three months ago after our last village kicked us out.”

Theseus had known there were more villages all across the world, and often he had expressed that he wished to visit them and help even more people. But everytime he tried to go, these humans would always draw him back, claiming they needed help because they were sick, or something was wrong with the crops, and finally they began to tell him that the other humans were evil. But he didn’t need to worry, they would keep him safe here, and not tell anyone else about him.

Only two of those things were true. More humans were evil. And they had kept him a secret.

Theseus’s face twisted bitterly.
“I’m sorry…I had no idea,” He whispered, looking down at the ground.

“It’s not your fault,” Clementine said quietly.

“But it is! I’m supposed to look after all of you, but I let you get hurt!”

“Sir--Theseus, it is not your fault. They probably hid it from you. All you wanted to do was help. You had no idea they were bad.”

“But I should have,” He sighed, “I’ve felt it for a while, that they weren’t what I thought they were, but I didn’t do anything.”

“Because you wanted to help.” Clementine stepped forward and carefully lowered herself to the ground in front of him, Henry trailing after her. “I’ve heard them talk about you. All you want to do is help. You’re too kind for them to even know.”

Theseus hummed unsurely, but a smile did grace his face, before it was quickly swept away.

“I hope they treat you kindly…I’m sure they’re unhappy with me, I don’t want that redirected to you.”

Clementine looked down, staring at her clasped hands.
“I don’t know if we will be staying.”

At that, Theseus looked up sharply, eyes wide.
“Where will you go?”

The girl shrugged sadly.
“I do not know. We shouldn’t stay….but there is nowhere else to go.”

Theseus’s shoulders slumped, sorrow ridden on his face.
“Are there anymore villages left for you?”

“None I know of…”

They sat quietly in thought, all staring at the ground sadly, until finally Theseus breathed.
“Stay here. Stay in the forest. I will give you all you need.”

Clementine stared wide-eyed, mulling over the offer, before her face fell, and she shook her head.
“Theseus, I appreciate your kindness but….We are humans. We may look like you but…we are different. We need shelter and socialization with each other. We can’t just live outside.”

“But they hurt you.”

“I know. But, we atleast have a place to stay. We found an empty house to live in, and there are a few humans who offer us food. It’s not like we’re going to die if we stay there.”

Theseus pouted, eyes darkening sadly, but he forced himself to nod.
“...If there is ever anything you need, please come to me, and I will help you.”

Clementine smiled kindly in appreciation, eyes shining dimly.
“Thank you, Theseus.” Clementine sighed and pulled herself to her feet, “Well, I think we need to get back soon. Someone offered me a job to clean their home for a bit of cash.” Theseus was quickly on his feet.

“Will you be safe?”

She helped Henry to his feet and entangled their hands together,
“We will be.”

“Let me walk you home, atleast, to make sure you get there safely.”

Clementine watched him for a moment, silently, chewing on her cheek in thought. Finally she nodded,
“Thank you,” She whispered again.

ꕥ

Theseus stood at the edge of the village, feet away from where the lush grass was replaced with a dull cobblestone path. He refused to go any closer. He watched Clementine and Henry as they walked into the streets, heads lowered and shoulders hunched. People lingered at the edges of the buildings, watching quietly as they walked in, clinging to each other.

His breath caught in his throat as a man made a quick movement toward them, hastily walking over to the children. He looked Theseus dead in the eyes as he approached them, and Theseus hands instantly curled into fists, rage bubbling suddenly.

But the fire died inside of him as the man gently leaned down in front of them, talking to them with hushed whispers and kind eyes. Clementine and Henry seemed frozen, both still holding each other and glancing warily back and forth, but they nodded to whatever the man had said, and he smiled softly.

More people began to approach the children, and he saw one woman carrying a basket of fruit and bread, holding it out to Clementine. She took it hesitantly, a confused smile on her face. The other villagers talked to them softly, and Theseus could hear a few apologies be passed around through their words. The woman who had brought them the basket rested her hand on Clementine’s shoulder and led them further into the village. A few people looked over their shoulders at Theseus before quickly turning away, heads bowed. Theseus sighed.

He watched until Clementine and Henry had been led away into a home, where candles lit the windows in a warm glow, before curtains were quickly pulled in front of them. The village was silent from then on.

Theseus turned away from the town and began walking back into the woods. He felt a warmth, knowing that the children were being cared for again. The villagers had apologized and brought them gifts, clearly they had felt bad for what they’d done. A weight lifted off his shoulders and he disappeared into the thickets.

Chapter Text

Days had passed since the incident in the village, and Theseus had not returned there once. He had not heard from Clementine and Henry, so he could only assume they were safe, otherwise they would have come to him, right?

Sometimes the wind whispered fretfully to him, What if they are dead? But Theseus always quickly denied it. The humans may have shown a sense of cruelty on that day, but certainly they could not kill their own. Especially not their children. The very thought was impossible.

So instead he spent his time in the forest, resting with the animals and turning his full attention to them, caring also for the plants and bugs and other parts of his forest. He busied himself with healing sick animals and watering plants, anything to keep his mind off the humans he’d left behind.

He felt so guilty for it.

How were they doing without him? Were they okay? Should he check on them?

But he did not want to see them. He did not want to. He did not want to feel anger, it was a terrible, hurtful feeling. And they caused it.

So instead he shook the thoughts away each time they bubbled up and continued caring to the forest.

ꕥ

Theseus was resting on the grass in a small clearing within his woods. The afternoon sunlight washed over him like water, and he let it fall onto him in soft waves, breathing deeply in sync with the wind. Birds flitted within the trees around him and sang lively tunes into the air, and squirrels and chipmunks and bunnies scuttled within the grass. A herd of deer had found him as well, laying lazily with him in the sun, a fawn resting on his lap. Peace settled within the forest as he soaked up the sun rays where he lay.

But that peace was broken when a branch snapped in the treeline, every animal sitting up quickly, Theseus following them. He looked around quickly, eyes wide and searching for the disturbance, when they caught on a shadow standing in the trees.

"Hello?" He raised his voice, carefully picking the fawn up off his lap and setting it down beside him where it then scurried over to his mother.

He rose to his feet and hesitantly walked toward the treeline. As he left, the forest around him went silent, and a quick look over his shoulder showed that the deer were leaving, looking back at him for a moment before hurrying away.

"Theseus?" A familiar voice spoke up. At the same time he smiled, his heart fell, and he rushed forward.

"Clementine!" He quickly ran up to her, bushes leaning out of his way as he ran, voice desperate and afraid. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He could see no injuries on her, but she was alone, her little brother wasn’t with her. Dread sunk within him.

The girl inhaled shakily,
"No, No I'm not hurt."

"Is it Henry?"

"No," she quickly assured, shaking her head, "Henry is fine, he's just back at the village playing with the other kids.”

He blinked for a moment, before inhaling deeply. Theseus sighed with relief, tense shoulders slumping. His heart calmed.
"Oh, good.” He laughed softly, clasping his hands together. “Have--Have you come to visit then?"

Clementine was chewing on her lip, eyes flicking back and forth, but never once meeting Theseus’s own. She shuffled her feet, breathing shakily. Finally she inhaled sharply, but still didn’t look up at Theseus, instead choosing to stare down at her feet.
“Uhm. I’ve--found---I’ve found an animal. A rabbit. Hurt. I came to see if you could help it—-him.”

The boy inhaled softly, breath catching in his throat. He nodded quickly, settling his hands on Clementine’s shoulders. The girl tensed.
“Yes, Yes, please bring me there,” He said hurriedly.

She paused, almost hesitantly, and nodded, before turning away silently. He did not wait to follow her, trailing along behind.

“What happened to it? Is it wounded? Sick?” He questioned as they walked. Clementine was walking a bit too slowly, with no sense of the urgency she should have had. She had her arms hugged around her body, hands turning white from how tense she stood.

“I don’t know,” The girl said shakily, “Just--hurt.”

“How hurt?”

“I don’t know,” She said again, but this time her voice was strained, like she was gritting her teeth. Theseus paused at the sharp snap, eyes going wide in surprise. He swallowed hard and lowered his head, following the girl in silence.

ꕥ

They walked further, and longer than Theseus had expected, weaving in between trees and over hills and past streams and ponds and sunlit clearings. They passed the village at some point, and Theseus could hear hurried chatter being passed around floating through the trees, but they steered clear of it to his relief, continuing to walk forward. The sun sunk low behind the trees, casting orange light and long, dark, purple shadows onto the forest floor. They walked in silence, neither speaking a word.

Perhaps Theseus should have seen the oddity of the situation, should’ve seen how Clementine dragged her feet and hesitated some moments, looking over her shoulder. He should’ve noticed how the trees became less cared for as they walked on and on and on. Should have seen how far away they were from the village, how far away she had led him, how there was no good reason she should have been out here in the first place. How night approaching in a few hours, how the woods had gone completely silent and tense…

But he didn’t, too focused on the fact that one of his animals had been hurt.

It wasn’t until they came to a dry-grass clearing, that Theseus felt the shift in the air.

They had left his woods.

He paused at the treeline, Clementine not noticing how he stopped.

The land before him was barren, with long, yellow grass and dry dirt. No sunlight fell onto the valley in front of him, dark clouds laying over it like a rainshower in wait. No wind rippled through the fields, an eerie silence settled upon the still grass. It was nothing like the small fields dotted between his forest, where the villagers grew their food and in others where animals slept, with green lush grass and bright sunlight. It was a wasteland, empty and stretching on for miles, cloudy and stale.

Theseus had never left the confines of his forest before. He had never even seen the edges of it. He’d had no clue it was so dead, so dry. Even if he hadn’t been here to take care of this field, it should not have been so destroyed, not with sunlight and rain. But something had killed it, all of it, leaving it dry and wasted and bare. Silence echoed from the ground beneath him. He could not hear the earth’s heartbeat, its steady thrum of life that was always consistent in the wind and the flow of river water.

What had done this?

He breathed in unsteadily, unaware he had even been holding his breath, eyes flickering over to Clementine. She still walked forward, not waiting for him, deadset forward with a glaze over her eyes, thoughts swirling in them.

Even with how death reeked through this valley, he could not abandon an animal that lay hurt somewhere near, probably lost and scared.

So with one last longing glance at his forest, he trailed sluggishly along after her.

They walked longer, and longer, till Theseus could barely see his forest behind him, worried looks passed over his shoulder. It was a stark green against the stale gray and yellow fields enveloping him, the only thing the sun was shining on. The dry grass crunched sickeningly under their feet. With every step he found himself wanting to stop, wanting to turn heel and run back to the safety of his forest. There was something just so------wrong here. Something that lurked within the soil and flew over the fields with poisoned wings. The place exhausted him, made him sluggish and slow, like his power and strength was being pulled out of him like a spool of thread.

And still he forced himself forward.

Soon, they found themself treading uphill. The notion should not have tired him as much as it did, but he was panting harder with every step. Clementine did not wait for him.

He paused for a moment, only a moment, to catch his breath, and the girl he was following disappeared over the ridge. He huffed a few more times before he ran, making up the last few steps.

As he made it to the top of the hill, he stopped, breath catching like thorns in his throat.

Before him were several marble and rock columns with intricately carved patterns, arranged in a circle of cobble floor and dying grass peeking through the cracked stone. The pillars were only a few feet taller than Theseus was, and brown thorns wrapped around their base, strangling and curling over the stone. The square of stone was about the size of a large well that lay in the woods just beyond the village back home. It was some kind of ruins, abandoned by time and lost. It had not been touched in what must have been a decade at least, dust settled upon the structures like a sheet of silk, not even the rain having cleared it.

Clementine stood still just out of the circle of stone, looking around with wide eyes, chewing her lip. She turned to look at Theseus, and for a few quiet seconds, she just stared at him, barely breathing.

“Theseus,” She said quietly, hesitantly. She paused, and was silent again, staring at him with a lost look. Finally she pursed her lips, shoulders hunched and head lowered. She shakily pointed into the circle of stone slabs and cracking columns, “I-I saw it here…”

Theseus narrowed his eyes, flickering back and forth between the girl and the ruins. He chose to ignore the uncertainty crawling under his skin, the string that tried to draw him back to the comfort of his woods.

Hesitantly, Theseus stepped forward.

The eerie silence was heavy as he walked, eyes searching the stone pillars for anything that may be hiding behind it. He crouched down in the center and made small calling noises, listening for any sign of the hurt rabbit. The pillars were carved with tiny “x’s” and “d’s” arranged in neat patterns all down the stone.

But there was no life here, if there had been a heartbeat here he would have known. Had there been any life at all, he would know. But it was void of anything, of any wind or breath or liveliness. It was just empty, as cold as the stone under his feet.

“Are you sure this is it?” Theseus asked flatly, looking over his shoulder at the girl. She was staring back the way they had come, looking down the hill with a wary look.

“Yes, I’m sure it was here, Just-Just look a bit longer, okay?” she said quickly, looking back at him and offering a small smile before turning back the way of the woods. The boy hummed uncertainly, unease steady in his heart, but he did turn back to the stone columns.

He strained his ears to listen, for any heartbeat or breath. But the only one he could other than his own was Clementine’s, rapid, and worryingly fast.

Theseus inhaled sharply.

There was another, faint, but beating, alive. The boy quickly stood up, eyes searching the plain in front of him, for anything, the rustle of grass, a hurt whimper, the tiny squeak of a rabbit.

But then another sound floated over him.

Another heartbeat.

“Theseus,” Clementine said weakly. Her voice sounded strained. He spun around to face her, concern writhing on his features.

“Clementine?” He asked softly. The girl was crying, small dots of tears shining in her eyes. Her face was twisted in pain, in regret.

There was another heartbeat.

Then another, another---another.

“What-What is happening?” He stepped backward, trembling.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” The girl sobbed, thick tears now rolling down her face. There were too many heartbeats---and yet he couldn’t see anything. They were still alone, the fields empty and bare, “They promised us a good life,” She hiccuped.

He continued stepping backwards, never taking his eyes off the girl in front of him. He felt hollow, thorns of worry and dread circling his heart and throat, strangling him.

He stumbled back, away, ready to turn and leave and run back to his woods, where nothing was wrong and he was happy.

His back collided with something, and he felt his stomach sink as he whipped around.

The spaces between the pillars had begun to glow, a poisonous green light flickering with an unearthly glow around him, all around him. He rushed forward and pressed his hands against it. The light was solid, a glowing wall holding him there. There were so many heartbeats, all out of sync and wild in his ears, accompanied by Clementine’s sobbing.

His breath hitched in his throat and he turned, hitting the next wall with his hands, and then the next. But they would not break no matter how many times he slammed his fists into it. He was stuck. Kept, held, trapped.

“Let me out!” He screamed. He could feel heat growing on his face, tears pricking his eyes and cold uncertain dread knotting in his throat. He pulled at his power, begging the vines to carry him up, to destroy the pillars and break through the walls and bring him home. But the land was too bare, ghostly, hollow, empty. No matter how many times he pushed, nothing would grow here.

“You have nowhere to run,” a new voice said. He whipped around, to face where Clementine was standing, still crying.

At first, there was nothing there, the girl still stood alone, but then the air beside her rippled, the same eerie glow as the walls, and a figure appeared.

It was a man Theseus had met many times before. He had a long brown beard and always gave warm hugs. He had two daughters that played with Theseus all the time.

He was also the squire of the village, the very village Theseus had wished to leave behind.

In his hands he held a dead rabbit, his hands stained with crimson red blood.

Theseus gasped in a half scream, stumbling away in horror, colliding with the walls behind him.

More people began to appear, all standing around him, just outside his prison of pillar and green light. They all stared down at him with harsh glares, eyes burning with something dangerous. These were people he knew, people he had sat with and read stories with and grown crops for. People he had loved, and cared for, and tried his hardest to give happy lives.

And now they stared at him with a deadly anger.

“Please, please let me out,” Theseus begged, walking forward to lean against the wall, face to face with the Squire. The man looked down at him with a cold glare, so harsh it hurt. The boy quickly looked away, eyes searching the crowd for Clementine.
She had moved back, tears still rolling down her face, the woman who had brought her the basket before resting her hands on the girl's shoulders. “Clementine! Please- You have to- You have to help me,” He pleaded.

The girl sobbed and turned away, hiding her face in her hands in shame.

Theseus sobbed as well, turning back to the man in front of him. She would not help him. None of them would. “Please let me go, Please--I’ll do anything you want.”

The squire took a deep breath in and looked around the crowd, ignoring Theseus’s pleas. Then he turned his head up, facing the dark, gloomy sky.
“Exodus” He announced, holding his hands up. The rabbit still dangled in his hold, grabbed by the ears, coated in blood, “Thank you for granting us the power we need to contain this evil.” He gestured to the trapped boy.

“What?” Theseus hiccuped, hitting the wall again, “You-You’ve got it all wrong!”

But still he was ignored.
“We ask for one more deed, Oh God of Time. Keep this power at bay, and do not let it harm our village anymore!”

The squire turned around, finally facing him. He let the dead rabbit drop to his feet, and held his hand out toward Theseus.

“Take this demigod as our next sacrifice.”

Sharp dread sunk into him like a piercing thorn, eyes going wide, tears falling harder.

“No,” he shook his head vigorously, “NO!” Theseus fell against the wall, pushing it over and over again, slamming angry, betrayed fists into the green veil, “I won’t hurt you! I would never hurt you! Please! Don’t do this!”

And again he was ignored.

A ringing sound chimed across the field, leaving a ghastly echo in its wake, and then a voice spoke, thundering from the sky. The people jumped in surprise, and Theseus yelped loudly, harshly falling to the ground.

“Your trade is accepted” The voice spoke, in a silvery, poisonous tongue, the sky booming with its force.

Theseus pushed himself shakily up, running back up to the wall and slamming into it with all his force. He began shoving at the pillars, trying with what little strength he had to shove them to the ground, to break the cage around him. He pulled again and again at his power, begging vines and brambles and tree branches to grow and tear his prison apart, to envelop him in the safety of nature and soft green moss. But it was all too empty here, too bare. He sobbed, hitting the walls again, begs and pleads falling from his lips.

“Please, I never wanted to hurt you. I promise I won’t! I’ll be good! I’ll give you everything!” He cried. Here he was no powerful deity, no demigod or blessed nymph.

He was a scared, betrayed, lost boy.

A numbness bit at his fingertips, and he pushed himself from the walls, stumbling back into the center of the stone plaza. He stared down at his hands in horror.

Gray had begun to spread across his fingers, leaving them stiff and lifeless. He couldn’t move them at all.

“No---No no!” He hiccuped, clutching his hands to his chest. But the stone was only spreading, crawling up his arms. Theseus looked down and found his legs were at the same fate. Soon he couldn’t move them anymore, rooted in place in the center of the stone pillars.
“Please” he begged again, looking around at the villagers with wild desperation, trying so hard to find an ounce of sympathy within the crowd. His eyes locked with Clementine’s again. Before he could even ask her for help again, she shook her head, eyes red with tears, yet dark. He sobbed again. Stone constricted around his chest, his arms stuck hugged against him.
“How could you?” He whispered, voice aching with hurt and betrayal. Clementine looked away guiltily.

Weakness crept through him, crawling underneath the stone now covering his skin and clothes. His tears fell like shooting stars onto the ground, like freshly fallen snow or a cold, dreary rain. He pinched his eyes shut and let them fall

The stone began to curl around his throat, choking him, voice catching in his throat, until no more sound came. No sobs or whimpers or pleas. Just silence. The wind in his lungs, his breathing, fell quiet. He wanted to stay in the darkness that came with closing his eyes, the peace of it all where there was no danger.

Theseus let his eyes flutter open, and they focused in the distance. Over the heads of the mob around him, past the dying fields and gray clouds. The only place where the beautiful afternoon sunlight fell, his only hope left.

The people around him did not matter anymore, nor did the stone crawling over his face. The pillars trapping him here faded away, no longer important. The betrayal and hurtful ache in his chest fell numb. His eyes rested softly over the light in the distance.

A forest of green lay on the horizon. His forest.

With one more tear falling down his cheek, he managed a soft smile.

He hoped the deer would be able to run happy and free, unbothered. He hoped the birds would still sing throughout the days and owls would call in the night. He hoped the plants would still flourish and bay beautiful flowers and fruits. He hoped sun would dapple the canopy and forest floor and that rain would refresh it, and that when storms rolled over, the creatures in the woods would not be afraid.

He hoped the forest would be okay without him.

ꕥ

The villagers stayed silent as they watched stone creep over the demigod's body. The creature cried up until the stone had wrapped around his throat, and his breathing ceased. And when finally the petrification stopped, it crawled over his eyes, dazed on something far away. The stone left his once blue eyes empty and gray.

The people began to cheer, joyous whoops and hollers flurrying through the crowd. People hugged each other, some fell to their knees and praised Exodus for saving them from the demigod’s wrath. They had known ever since the day in the village square that it was only a matter of time before Theseus returned, ready to tear their village apart in anger. But now they were safe, and the deity would never be able to hurt them again. The green walls around the pillars faded away, now that the thing they had imprisoned would not be able to escape.

There was only one person among the crowd who was not cheering.

Clementine stood still, staring at the statue in front of her. In his last moments, Theseus had managed a smile, and following his gaze, she found the last thing he had seen was the forest he called home.

Clementine suppressed a sob, regret heavy in her chest.

“Thank you, girl” A voice spoke suddenly, and she slowly turned around to face the village squire, quickly wiping away the tears coating her face. The man was smiling down at her thankfully.
“We would not have been able to do this if you hadn’t brought him here.” He looked back to the statue. “As long as Exodus’s shrine stands tall, we will be safe from Theseus’s unlawful anger.”

“That creature was always so wild,” people muttered, shaking their heads, “Unpredictable. It was only a matter of time before he snapped.”

Clementine did not reply to the praise. She lowered her head and looked down at the ground.
“You promised me and Henry a home,” She said flatly, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“And you will be given that. You will be housed in the orphanage now and will be given food. It is the least we can do after the great deed you helped us perform.”

She wanted to sob.

ꕥ

Soon people began to make the trek home, all talking excitedly as they walked down the hill.

But Clementine lingered behind, staring silently at the statue in front of her. For a long while she stayed there, wallowing alone in the regret that furled in her chest.

Theseus was gone. He was imprisoned in stone, stuck in place where the sunlight did not fall and plants did not grow, killed by the withering power of their god, Exodus. Nothing thrived here, it was empty and bare, nothing like the forest Theseus lived in, always full of life and glowing, the plants and animals happy.

Clementine did not think it fair that she cry, not when Theseus couldn’t anymore. On his statue, forever ingrained in the stone, was a single tear rolling down his face. Clementine stepped forward onto the stone plaza, passing the pillars standing around its edge.

She fell to her knees at the base of the statue, and a sob tore through her.
“I’m sorry Theseus, please-Please forgive me---They promised we’d be safe if I did this-” she hiccuped, tears falling messily down her face.

But Theseus couldn’t hear her. He would never hear her pleas, and even if he could, he would not forgive them. Clementine had no right to be forgiven.

Where Clementine lay, sobbing, a sudden gust of wind curled through her hair, and she sat up, wiping her tears, eyes wide as she gazed up at the statue.

A single flower had grown at its base.

ꕥ

In what once was a dying field, there now lay a thriving forest, with trees that stretch high into the air and plants that grow all along the grass. Animals sleep in the shade of the canopy in the sunlight that spills through it delightedly. Everything thrives there, bright life present in every leaf and pebble, every beetle and cicada that sings and berry on a bush. It glides in the wind and clings to the feathers of birds. It falls as raindrops and sparks of sun. No plant has ever wilted in this forest, always bright and colorful and grown.

And in the very center of that forest that stretches on for miles in every direction, there lay a statue of a boy, a smile gracing his face, and a single stone tear rolling down his cheek.

Chapter Text

Lonely.

That’s the best word to describe what stone feels like. Cold. Bare. Numb. Dead.

There are other feelings, sometimes, but none as prominent as loneliness.

He can feel the ripple of a long forgotten power, caged in his stone chest. He can feel betrayal and grief curled within his heart like a bush of thorns. But he can not feel the wind that glides past him, or the rain that falls over him. He can not feel the warmth of the sunlight that pours down onto the forest floor in radiant dapples of gilded gold, or feel the moss and flowers that have grown over his body. He can not feel the cool air of night that comes with the starlight.

But he can hear the howl of wind, the pattering of rain. Even so he has forgotten what his voice sounds like. And he can see. He sees everything. His vision is always tinted by a gray film, so bland that he’s forgotten what color looks like. It is all just stale and dark, a permanent fog over his eyes. He can not turn his head, or tilt it up to look at the surely beautiful sky, but he still sees. Sees everything in front of him. He watches seasons come and go over and over again, leaves changing shade. The only thing that stays the same is him. He is not even blessed with the sweet quiet of sleep, eternally awake. He can’t describe it, it’s as if he’s a separate person from his body, like he is hovering over himself with a stare deadset forward, and even though his eyes are covered by leaves and vines, he still sees. But he does not even know if he can be considered alive anymore.

Because his real body is stone.

And it has been that way for a thousand years.

ꕥ

It was not always so lonesome.

Back in the days when the field was still dead, sprinkled with little flowers trying to bring the grass back to life, and he could still fool himself and say he could feel the sunlight, sometimes people would visit. Mostly children that strayed from the village, sometimes just come to see him, sometimes come to stare at him in curious wonder, and other times to jeer at him. Sometimes they spoke to him, and they would either tell him how much they missed him, or what their parents had said, that he was evil and it was good he was locked away. Sometimes they threw stones at him. They were always unpredictable, as unpredictable as their visits.

But every night, there was one person who would always come, whether it be raining or snowing, even in the midst of storms.

Under the dark veil of the moon, Henry would sneak away from the village and come to the statue, staring up at him with grief. He prayed sometimes to Exodus to free Theseus, prayers that were never answered. In small moments of blooming bravery, he would chase away the kids that came to jeer at the statue. He always would apologize endlessly for what his sister had done, saying he had begged her not to do it. But he explained she was just worried for them, afraid for their safety, and the villagers had promised them that if they would help trap Theseus.

Theseus should be angry. He has every right to be. He should hate her, because she doomed him to this eternity of nothingness. He should never forgive her.

Yet he did. He did forgive her, because in the end she was just scared. Scared like he was.

Clementine did not visit.

Henry visited for years, and Theseus got to watch him grow, and soon, he was even taller than Theseus was. The grass around his statue was green again, dotted with flowers and ferns, the blooming of a few oak tree’s sproutlings sticking out of the lush flora. The boy watered them every visit, carrying a watering pail with him and gardening gear specifically for his statue. Henry always brought gifts to Theseus, flower crowns and warm loaves of bread, sometimes jewelry he would drape at his feet, and later the birds would carry it away, and Theseus would hope the boy knew it meant he had seen it. Theseus’ favorite gift of all was a tiny stone slab Henry had carved and placed at his feet that said his name.

And one day he returned with a baby boy in his arms, and introduced him to his son, Theseus. Theseus thought he could feel his heart swell at the notion. The statue got to watch him grow, watch his children grow and start families of their own, watch Henry’s hair grow gray.

And then one day…he stopped visiting. They all did.

And the rest of his days were spent in solitude.

Sometimes animals visited. Deer would rest at his feet and birds would perch on his shoulders. There was always some critter with him, always wondering what had happened to their friend, why he would not move or pet them or speak with them. They sat with him and waited for him to awake. These were some of the few moments Theseus remembered what happiness felt like.

But even with the animals’ company, he missed voices. When they first met, Henry had been so timid, but as he grew up at Theseus’s side, he had branched out more, blossomed in the sunlight. He missed listening to Henry drawl on and on to Theseus, like they were sharing a conversation, even though the statue could not respond. He would talk about his day, ask how Theseus was doing and then pretend he had answered.

What he would give to answer.

But all that ceased when Henry stopped coming.

Theseus knew what happened to him. He knew that humans aged. He had seen death before, in animals he was too late to save, in the elders of the village, in plants that could not be brought back in time. It was simply just a part of life, a calm darkness in the midst of sheltering light.

But even with its promise of a peaceful end, it leaves destruction in its wake.

Those days with Henry were the last Theseus had heard another voice.

It was the last time Theseus had seen a human.
No one ventured into his new woods anymore, for reasons he would never be able to understand. He wondered if they had made some rule that he was to be left alone, a rule built out of fear.

But a hundred years later, he began to wonder if they had just forgotten about him. The forest had grown so vast now, a canopy in all directions, that he would not be surprised if people simply could not make the trek anymore. He forgot what the sound of another person’s voice was like.

Two hundred years later, Theseus could not remember what he looked like.

Three hundred years later, he never did stop counting. The days blended together, every sleepless night and long morning mixing together like rain and water make mud. Many feelings he had felt before faded away like a morning fog, leaving him only in the tense embrace of loneliness. But still he tried so hard to pick them out, to remember when the moon fell and the sun rose and when a day had passed. He never lost count.

There was not much else to do.

ꕥ

It was on a cool spring day, year 3,026 that this perilous routine of emptiness came to a beautiful end.

Theseus watched as the darkness of the night began to seep away, casting long dark shadows over his grave. He watched, unblinking, as the forest turned orange and the sun began to pour through the canopy, raining down upon him and turning the morning dew to tiny pinpricks of starlight. He listened as the forest came to life, with hoots and chirps of doves and cardinals, the rapid fall of the tap-tap-tap-tap of a woodpecker somewhere in the tallest trees. Dawn fell upon the forest like a calm mist, nature welcoming it happily.

Life thrived where his statue lay, all that power contained in its stone seeping out and spreading, bringing life back to that once rotten field. He basked in the beauty of it every chance he got.

But oh, what he would give to see something else. To see everything that lay behind him for once, to simply tilt his head back and stare up at the bright blue and starry skies.

Dawn fades as quickly as it came, sun floating up overhead to fall through the trees. Soon he is left in another morning, dreadfully welcoming day 1104776.

He watches as animals pass, deer and foxes and squirrels. He watches as the sunlight shifts and changes with the clouds floating overhead.

The forest is quiet today, and for hours Theseus is left alone simply with the sound of birdsong and cicadas.

Until somewhere far off, he hears the crackle of branches underfoot, likely a deer passing through, a raccoon wandering about. Theseus waits expectantly, hoping the animal comes bysoon. In the silence, interrupted only by quiet birdsong, he can hear the creature’s heartbeat steadily growing louder along the smaller ones waiting in the trees. The heartbeat is slower than most creatures, so whoever it comes from must be big. Maybe a bear? He has only seen a bear here once, on day 245778.

There is a sound so faint he almost mistakes it for a whisper of the wind.

He feels his own ghost of a heart stutter.

A voice floats through the trees, like the beautiful call of a mourning dove.

A voice.

Theseus waits breathlessly, searching through the myriad of trees. It was a voice, he knows it was. Right? He silently begs, please don’t let it be happening again. So many times when his lonely vigil first began he had imagined voices, calling his name, comforting him, the ghost of fake arms wrapped warmly around his stone body. But it was all fake. He imagined a sob pouring from his mouth. Please don’t let this be fake. He waits, and waits, and waits.

“…passing cars…”

There.

It is! It is a voice! A heartbeat growing louder, footsteps on branches and soft grass echoing. The voice is singing, a melody that fills his ears and warms his stone cold, unbeating heart. For the first time in thousands of years, there is another person in these woods.

In his grayed vision, he sees a silhouette shift in the shade of the trees. Its words grace his ears.

“I wanna be yours” the man is singing. Theseus can see him down the hill from where his statue lay, enveloped in moss and vines. But he is so far away, he cannot make out the face of the man. He walks steadily, clumsily stepping over tree roots and rocks. He stares down at a few papers in his hands, shuffling through them, scribbling over them with a strange ink quill in his hand. A strange dark object is attached to his back. He continues walking, mumbling to himself and scribbling.

And Theseus realizes with a terrifying dread, that the man is not going to see him. He does not look up around, simply stares down at the papers in tense focus as he continues to walk. He will pass by, and he will not see him, and he will be alone again, alone again for hours or thousands of years, and he cannot let that be. He cannot have the cure to his loneliness, the yarrow to a common fever in front of his eyes, and let it slip away. It is going to break him, if he is alone for even seconds more. But he cannot move, he cannot call out, cannot run down the hill into the waiting embrace of company. He is frozen, watching as the figure continues to walk, leaving his field of vision.

Theseus silently sobs, a whispered plea that makes no sound.

Then, by some greater power, something otherworldly finally deciding to spare Theseus, the wind picked up, a gust of wind through the forest. He can almost feel it’s cold breeze against his stone skin.

It was not very much, but it was just enough to send a few of the papers in the man's grasp spiraling out of his hands.

The man swore, wildly grasping at the papers, but they only fall to the forest floor and go dancing across the grass, carried on the wind. Theseus watches in breathless silence as he stumbles over tree roots and branches, trying and failing to grab the papers that fall out of his hands as he wobbles around under the weight of the strange object on his back.. The wind pulls the pages through the grass, winding and twisting out of his reach as he continuously swears and chases after them.

They glide up the hill, dancing the whole way in rapid grace.

And finally the wind dies, and the scattered papers have stopped at Theseus’s feet.

Thank you Theseus cries to the wind.

ꕥ

“Shit-!” Wilbur swears. His music sheets go flying out of his hands in the sudden wind, and he makes desperate grabs for them, attempts that fail miserably.

The new house was too quiet, Wilbur had decided. Too big, yet it still felt suffocating and made him claustrophobic. You would think he’d be used to it, after living here for a whole three weeks, but no. The whole house was still uncomfortable. Wilbur just needed to get out for a while. He knew Phil had told him about a pretty nice forest a mile from their house they could go walking in at some point, so that was where Wilbur had gone, leaving a note on the kitchen table, taking his phone with him in case he lost his way, and a heavy as hell guitar strapped to his back.

Wilbur wasn’t sure how he felt about the farm yet. It was lovely, sure, quiet, dirty at times. A lot of the time actually. But the animals were cool. There was a sheep he’d named friend that was his favorite. But it was just strange and unfamiliar right now. It was a house, but not home.

The only reason they were there was because Phil’s mom had passed. To them it really wasn’t a loss. She was mean, they weren’t close, they never talked, but Phil got her farm in the inheritance, and the place was better than their shabby apartment they lived in before

But of course with a farm there comes a lot of responsibilities, responsibilities that involve getting covered in dirt and animal shit.

So the forest was a nice change in scenery, not as dirty or foul smelling. Birds flitted around, and plants covered its entirety, sunlight streaming through the leaves overhead. It was nice to see such a large forest was still around, most had been deforested and made into neighborhoods. But here it was beautiful. It was calm, quiet, yet not in a way that felt too heavy, and the perfect place to daydream and practice his songs and his music sheets.

He’s aware how impractical it is to keep all his songs on paper, when he could very easily be writing them down in his notes app, but he just doesn’t get the same feel without paper.

Of course, it brought a few problems with it. The music got lost extremely easily, papers crumpled and tore constantly…

And oh, yeah, the wind sucked.

He stumbled over spindly tree roots and vines as he tried to grab his papers out of the air. His hands came back empty with every desperate reach, or sometimes filled with leaves when he tripped and ended up grabbing a fistful of dirt. The wind carried the pages out of his reach, and with more hissed curses he ran after them.

“Goddamit-” Wilbur sighed harshly, stumbling up a hill, tripping on his untied shoes, covered in dirt from having to take care of the animals. Running with a heavy guitar on your back is shit, he has decided, as he topples over to the side for the second time.

Finally, the wind decided to spare him, and the papers all landed delicately in the grass. Wilbur trudged up the hill, stopping in front of a large bush and leaning down to pick up his papers, tucking them under his arm with a scowl. He shuffled through them for a moment, before finally pushing himself to his feet, groaning.

His eyes caught on something in the bush in front of him, and he paused.

Between the cluster of twisting vines and moss and leaves and flowers, there was some kind of strange stone, with strange twists in the rock, it almost looked like the folds of clothing.

Wilbur narrows his eyes, tilting his head questioningly. He curiously reaches forward, a tiny mutter of I hope this isn’t poison ivy momentarily passing through his mind. He reaches forward and pushes the vines back, dusting away leaves. The strange rock continues twisting up, until it stops and---oh---it’s a hand, curled in on itself. It’s not actually a bush, or a rock..

Ah! It’s a statue.

Wilbur hums quietly, standing there for a moment in curious silence before reaching behind him. He struggles, wrestling his guitar off his back with a curse, before setting it down on the ground beside him. He opens the zipper and shoves the papers under his arm and the pencil into it before turning back around to the overgrown statue.

He begins moving all the foliage off of it, long, winding vines falling onto the floor, which he’s now noticing is also stone. He picks off as many leaves and moss and tiny flowers as he can get to come off, uncovering arms, shoulders, a neck, and then finally a face. Wilbur stares in awe.

It is a statue of a young boy, a little bit less than a foot shorter than Wilbur is. His eyes are glassy, and on his cheek there is a single tear, carved into the stone with incredible detail. A tiny smile graces the figure’s face. Wilbur gawks. The statue is incredible, expertly carved, and with such detail to the elements that it almost looks alive. He can see each curly hair on his head, every eyelash, the folds in the fabric of his clothes. His skin looks soft, like it’s real, not just carved stone. He’s even got dimples.

Wilbur continues moving vines off of it, and as he moves down he finds a small stone slab laid at its feet. Etched into the stone is the name “Theseus.”

“Theseus,” Wilbur whispers quietly, not entirely sure who he’s talking to.

He hums and spins around, and now he finally notices there’s more bushes, tall ass bushes. But having seen the statue, he suspects they’re not actually bushes. He turns around and walks over to one, and starts to move the ferns off of that too.

After a few moments of moving aside foliage, he uncovered most of the structure. But actually, it’s not a statue, not like the one of the boy. Instead they’re pillars, but they’re incredibly dilapidated, worn down by rain, stained by sun, chipped and cracked, practically crumbling. They’ve got strange markings all around that were probably clear symbols at some point, but now they’re all faded and scuffed. It’s no wonder they’re so destroyed, they’re probably ancient.

But looking back at the statue in the center of these strange pillars, he sees that that one is perfectly intact, pristine, not damaged in any way other than the moss clinging to it that he had not been able to get off. Theseus stands there in the sunlight, smiling sadly back at him.

Wilbur smiles back.

Chapter Text

Wilbur finally steps onto the dirt pathway that leads to their front door, and he breathes a sigh of relief, he’s almost there. He’s exhausted, he can’t wait to walk in and get to rest. Carrying his huge ass guitar through the forest and then the whole way back home was not his smartest plan ever, not with his lungs being so bad from the smog of their old city, or being not athletic in general.

He coughs into his elbow as he makes his way up the front porch steps, and finally makes it to the front door, panting. Luckily, with the chill of the spring air, it’s not hot out, otherwise he’d be sweating bullets. He wipes his feet before going in, he doesn’t want to get scolded by Phil for dragging dirt in even though its kind of hard to avoid when you live on a damn farm.

As he steps into the living room, he can hear the sizzle of a pan in the kitchen, and the waft of something delicious hits him like a bag of bricks.

“I’m back!” Wilbur calls loudly, swinging his guitar case off his shoulder and setting it against the wall beside the front door. He follows the scent of vanilla into the kitchen and finds Phil standing at the stove humming, a pan in his hands as he flips a pancake over in it.

“Welcome back, mate,” Phil greets. His hair is tied back in a short ponytail, and he’s wearing his green night robe. He looks tired to say the least, but they all probably do. Having the farm means having a rooster or two, and having a rooster means getting woken up at the butt crack of dawn by the most awful noise imaginable and then failing to fall back asleep. But, such is life, they had to get up early to take care of all the animals now anyway. “How was your walk?”

Wilbur stretches his arms over his head and walks over to stand beside his dad, leaning his elbows on the counter,
“It was fine, it’s really nice out,” he grins, resting his chin on his hand, “and! I found something cool.”

“Oh yeah?”” Phil smiled with amusement, ”What’s that?”

“Can’t tell you, it’s a surprise. I guess you’ll just have to go on a walk with me and find out,” he grinned mischievously. Wilbur pushed himself up off the counter, “Put on some real clothes, I’m gonna go get Techno!” He turned on his heel and started to run upstairs. He should probably sit down and have a break first, but he’s too excited to show them what he’s found.

“Uh-uh!“ Phil stopped him. Wilbur tripped to a stop on the stairs, looking back at Phil incredulously, “We’re having breakfast first.”

Wilbur groaned, slumping over on the banister of the stairs, “But Phiiiil! It’s really cool! Come on!”

“Will you go tell Techno that the food’s ready?” Phil smirks, ignoring Wilbur’s disheartened whine of protest. But, regardless, he does turn around and stomp back down.

“Where is he?”

“He should be out with the chickens, that’s where I last saw him.” Phil slid the pancake off the pan and onto a plate with a couple more pancakes, before pouring more of the batter into the hot skillet. So Wilbur turned around and found his way to the back door.

He steps back outside into the cool spring breeze, the old screen door whining on its hinges as it shuts behind him with a clang. He squints in the sunlight, holding his hand over his head as he goes down the withering wooden steps of their porch and onto the cobblestone path. The chicken coop is the closest to their house, with the barn just a little bit further off in the distance, with plenty of room for the animals to walk around outside and a wide, open-range fence.

As he walks over to the chicken coop, with its tight wire fencing and tall roof so nothing bad gets in, he can hear a quiet murmur. Wilbur smiles and walks a little faster, coming up to the gate and unhitching it, before quickly walking through.

Wilbur makes his way around the chickens running past his feet, apologizing to the enraged squawks and clucks he receives from the animals. He only trips once, before finally walking into the small shed-like coop. Getting past all the animals is always a nightmare, none of them have any brain enough to know to move out of the way.

Techno is sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall. He has a chicken sitting in his lap, and a book clutched in his hand, the other gently running over the bird's feathers. His hair is tied up in a long, pink braid, like it always is, and he’s wearing a white poet’s shirt and a pair of overalls, both of which are a little stained with dirt. He doesn’t look up as Wilbur walks in, gently stepping around another chicken who had decided to sit directly in the middle of the doorway like a prick.

“Hallo,” Techno greets, still looking down at his book.

“Yeah, hi,” Wilbur says stiffly, cringing a bit at the smell of old wood and hay and…..well, shit.

“How was your walk?” His brother asks smoothly, still not looking up. Wilbur frowns boredly.

“Riveting conversation, Technoblade.”

Aha, that finally made him look up, eyes wide, brow furrowed.

“Heh-?!” He blurts.

But Wilbur ignores him,
“But to answer your question, my walk was fine. And you’re gonna go on another one with me, cause I found something cool I wanna show you.”

Techno blinks quietly at him, before shrugging.
“Eh, no thanks, I’m gonna stay here with the chickens.”

“I didn’t say it was optional, Techno” Wilbur puts his hands on his hips, scowling down at his brother.

“I’m okay, thanks for the offer.”

Wilbur groaned,
“You’re going with me!” He stamped his foot on the ground.

“Nah.” Techno turned the page.

“Yes, you are.”

Techno chuckles, shaking his head,
“If I go depends on what you’re gonna show me. I won’t go if it’s not worth it.”

“It’s a surprise!”

“Bruh.”

“Wil!” A voice from outside yells, and then the screen door slams again.

Wilbur turns away, carefully stepping over the stubborn chicken in the doorway again, “Oh, by the way, breakfast is ready. Better hurry if you want any!” And then he bolts away, stumbling as fast as possible past chickens.

“Bruh.”

ꕥ

“Are you sure you know which way we’re going, Wil?”

Wilbur groaned, not bothering to look over his shoulder as he continued stomping through the grass, eyes trained for any familiar sights, like tree roots and hills that sloped up a little, weird ass bushes that were not actually bushes. But so far, nothing looked the same as it had when he first came through. He was sure he was going the same way as he was when he first stumbled across the statue.

“Yes! It’s this way, I know it is,” He argued back. Phil hummed doubtfully, eyeing a thorny berry bush beside a tree he was sure they’d passed once or twice already.

“L, Wilbur’s lost,” Techno smirked.

“I am not lost!”

“You totally are, you probably don’t know how to get back to the house.”

Wilbur scowled, looking back at his brother sharply,
“I bet you can’t either, dickhead!”

“Sure I can,” Techno shrugged, “I’m the human GPS.”

Wilbur shook his head with a scoff and turned back around, ignoring his family’s chuckles from behind him.
“That’s not a real thing,” he muttered.

It really should’ve been around there somewhere, he’s sure of it. He walked the same direction, followed the sun, even looked around for familiar patches of moss. But it was just gone.

(Actually, he simply wouldn’t admit that he was lost)

He peers around the dim forest. The sun seems to have been hidden by the clouds, leaving no more glowing light to shine down through the leaves. He continues scanning the area, when his eyes catch on one single spot of sunlight spilling through the canopy, onto a circle of-

“Aha!” Wilbur exclaimed happily, pointing ahead, “Come on, it’s here!” He took off in a jog through the trees, with Phil and Techno following amusedly behind.

Wilbur ran up the hill, weaving around one of the towering pillars of ivy until he reached the statue, still smiling in the sunlight, a mimic of life.

“I told you I knew where I was goin, Phil,” He smirked, turning around to face his family with his arms proudly crossed in front of him. Phil and Techno both had wide eyes now as they looked around the structures. Their gazes landed on the statue, and they both paused, startled with awe.

“Woah…” Techno breathed, stepping around one of the pillars. He walked up to where the statue stood, Phil following behind. They both circled the statue as Wilbur watched proudly, both their faces confused and amazed.

“What the hell is this place, Wilbur?” Phil asked quietly, tilting his head at the statue. Techno was looking around at the pillars with his brow furrowed thoughtfully.

“I dunno, I just stumbled across it while on my walk.”

Phil hummed, looking down at his feet, moss and vines underfoot. “It’s so overgrown, must be old,” he muttered. He walked to stand directly in front of the statue, crouching down with his hands on his knees to see it face to face. Techno joined him, standing over his shoulder.

“Then why does that look brand new?” Techno frowned, pointing at it. Wilbur shrugged unsurely.

“Right? It looks like it was built yesterday, but all the rest of it is all falling apart,” Wilbur gestured to the surrounding pillars.

“Maybe somebody found the other stuff and built the statue a couple years ago or so, cause the other stuff looks like it’s been here forever.” Techno hummed, eyeing one of the crumbling statues. He was sure if he were to poke it with the smallest bit of force it would go tumbling down into rubble.

“Yeah but who? No one else lives around here. And I mean,” Phil sat back up, gesturing to the statue with both hands dramatically, “This probably took a lot of time! I doubt it’s over like--10 years old at most.”

“It says “Theseus.” Is that the one from your books, Techno?”

Techno shakes his head,
“Nope. There is a Theseus but he doesn’t look like that.”

“Maybe it’s just artistic interpretation.” Wilbur shrugged again.

Phil hummed, looking around, tilting his head back to look at the trees, the sunlight shining through. The lovely sound of bird song rang through the air, carried on the cool breeze. The sun had apparently come back out again, setting the forest aglow.
“It’s really nice out here, isn’t it?” Wilbur grinned, “We should have a picnic out here or something. I think we should try to clean this place up a bit, preserve it or something” He prodded a long vine with the toe of his shoe. Phil nodded, smiling.

“It is really beautiful”

Chapter Text

To Theseus, the man was beautiful.

He had dark hair and dark eyes that glittered with life, like a yellow glow breaking through his tainted gray vision. His voice rang in a cheery hum, a euphonious hymn that flowed through the air when he spoke. He had a kind smile and kind features. He looks at Theseus with wonder and awe. He delicately moved vines and brambles off of his shoulder, and if he dreamed, Theseus could imagine he could feel the weight of them be carried away.

And when he said his name, he almost felt tears spring to his marble eyes.
“Theseus,” The man spoke, a sound that wrapped around him like warm arms. That was his name, someone had said his name. Someone was speaking to him. He wasn’t alone, eons of loneliness were nulled, because finally he had someone here with him again. The man smiled, and it felt brighter than any sunny day Theseus had ever faced when he lived. It pushed away all the numb cold and bathed him in the flickering warmth of fire.

But then he left. He turned away without a word, carrying his large bag with him and humming as he walked away through the trees. Theseus watched him go, heart sinking in a painful, numb ache.
Come back He pleaded silently, Please don’t leave me here again. But his voice did not break through his stone prison, his lips did not move. Hurt and anger curled in his chest like the constricting stone cloaked around him. But still he could not be angry. He never had been able to be angry. He could not blame the man for leaving.

Did he know who Theseus was? Did he know of the way people had spoken of him, had the stories been passed down through generations all these years? Did he find joy knowing Theseus was still locked away? Would he ever understand how Theseus wanted to beg and plead for forgiveness?...

Or did he not?

Did he only leave so soon because he did not know what lay beneath the stone casket before him? How could he? He probably just thought him to be a simple statue, carved in marble. He couldn’t have known of the boy imprisoned there, for humans did not just turn to stone, and never in his time had Theseus met another like him.

He’d wondered through his many years of solitude, stuck standing here. Were there others that had power like him? Did anyone else care for the earth with the same love he had for it? The animals did, he knew, but would he ever find someone else? A brother like him? A family?

If they were somewhere out there…Had they been cursed too? Cursed with stone and bound to never meet?

So, he could not be angry as he watched the man go, because he had never known Theseus. He did not know his stone fate. He did not know that this simple statue was actually a wounded boy who only reached desperately for company.

So, he returned to his everlasting silence, the sound of birds numb in his ears, the gray world around him blurry in his dissociation.

ꕥ

And then the man returned.

And Theseus found himself weeping inside once more, with sunshine yellow joy radiating in his cold, unbeating heart. He returned. He came back for him. And he had brought more humans. The man with the fluffy dark hair stopped in front of him, placing his hands on his hips and turning to the place where he could hear more footsteps crackling through the bramble.

“I told you I knew where I was goin, Phil,” The man before him smirked, turning around to face his family with his arms proudly crossed in front of him.

“What the hell is this place, Wilbur?” he heard a voice mutter to his right, which he unfortunately could not turn to face. Please come closer.

“I dunno, I just stumbled across it while on my walk.” The man with dark hair said with a shrug, looking back at Theseus with a curious smile.

Wilbur. Wilbur. So that was his name. Theseus wished he could say it back, to share the joy he had felt hearing his own muttered name after so many years of silence. There was such beauty in a name that was your own.

But they didn’t know that he was a person.
He did not know how to feel about that. Sad, they did not know who he was, but also glad, for they did not fear him like the others had.

They looked around his stage with wonder, and they looked into his eyes with shining curiosity, and oh how Theseus longed to tell them that he was looking back, with all the love and thankfulness in the world. There was an older man with his light hair tied back, and a boy who looked the same age as Wilbur, but with longer hair tied into a neat braid that fell over his shoulders.

The older man, maybe Phil, hummed, looking down at his feet.. “It’s so overgrown, must be old,” he muttered. He walked to stand directly in front of Theseus, crouching down to see him face to face. The other boy joined him, standing over his shoulder.

“Right? It looks like it was built yesterday, but all the rest of it is all falling apart,” Wilbur gestured to the surrounding pillars.

“Maybe somebody found the other stuff and built the statue a couple years ago or so, cause the other stuff looks like it’s been here forever.” The one with the braid hummed, eyeing one of the crumbling statues.

“Yeah but who? No one else lives around here. And I mean,” the older one sat up, gesturing to Theseus with both hands dramatically, “This probably took a lot of time! I doubt it’s over like--10 years old at most.”

If only they knew.

“It says “Theseus.” Is that the one from your books, Techno?” Wilbur hummed.

Theseus felt his blood run cold.
Books? There we books of him?

Techno, apparently, shakes his head,
“Nope. There is a Theseus but he doesn’t look like that.”

Theseus stiffly sighed in relief. Not him, someone else that shared his name then.

“Maybe it’s just artistic interpretation.” Wilbur shrugged again.

The older man hummed, looking around, tilting his head back to look at the trees, the sunlight shining through. If the others were Wilbur and Techno, then he must be Phil.

“It’s really nice out here, isn’t it?” Wilbur grinned, “We should have a picnic out here or something. I think we should try to clean this place up a bit, preserve it or whatever.” The other man nodded, smiling.

“It is really beautiful.”

Beautiful. Beautiful. They believed he was beautiful, what he had made was beautiful, everything he was was beautiful. Warmth flooded through him like a steady stream, a smile threatening to break past his stone.

“It’s really cool that you found this, mate,” Phil hummed again, looking back at Theseus, “ I’ll get my gardening gear and bring it up here soon, maybe tomorrow if we’re not too busy. Would you two like to come?”

“Sure,” The one with the braid answered. Wilbur smiled and nodded quickly, and Theseus’s heart ached.

Theseus was saddened when they left again, listening to their banter fade away into the trees. But still, he felt warm.

They would come back.

They would.

ꕥ

And they did.

The next day, the sun rose and the forest awoke once more, life flooding all around where Theseus stood.

He waited, and waited, and waited, hopeful for the first time in hundreds of years. He wanted to see Wilbur again, he wanted to see Techno again, he wanted to see Phil again. He wanted them to come back and speak beside him and admire the forest with him, and he could pretend to be a part of their conversations. That he had walked here with them and then gone back home with them, and that it had been that way forever. His lonely, aching heart never once stopped to think they may be cruel like the other humans, he only longed to listen to a voice. Just their company was all the kindness the world could offer.

So he waited, and waited, and waited more, for them to return. He clung to his hope desperately, praying that this vine would not sever.

And then finally, he hears their sound whisper through the trees. Again he finds himself wanting to cry. It feels like even more of a curse that he can not let them fall. Tears, he has heard and he has known, are painful, mostly born from sorrow. But these tears are something bright, something joyous. It is torture they are trapped.

He waits patiently as footsteps crack through the bramble and underbrush, and finally he sees their faces again. The sun seems to glow a little brighter as they appear.

Chapter Text

The family is carrying all kinds of tools with them, some kind of giant shears and a shovel, a box with other tools poking out of it, a watering can, a bucket, a rake and broom, and some things Tommy doesn't recognize. Techno has a large bag thrown over his shoulders that he carries with no strain at all.

“Okay,” Phil huffs, leaning down and setting the toolbox he had brought with on the forest floor. He looks around the pillars for a moment, face twisted in thought. He puts his hands on his hips as he surveys the forest.

“Let’s try to avoid cutting as many plants as possible. They’re all healthy, just get rid of anything that’s causing damage. It’s already very pretty, so.”

“I’ll start working on getting the rest of the plants off of Theseus,” Wilbur announces, walking towards him.

Oh…he wishes they wouldn’t. He loves the moss, a warm blanket thrown over his shoulders.

But…But they are only trying to help. Phil said so himself, it is beautiful. The plants that have gathered around him are strong and healthy. But humans do not know plants as well as Theseus does, and it is true that plants have a tendency to wither stone, to break through it and form cracks. They are only trying to help Theseus.

And so, he waits patiently as they begin to work.

He watches warmly as Wilbur uses some kind of brush to clean the moss from his shoulders, a smile on his face. He watches as Techno sweeps vines and leaves from off the stone patio, and as Phil begins to clip away at the bramble and overgrowth that clings to the pillars. His heart aches for them. This little family who he has never known but feels like he has been beside all his life, who is here helping him though they never even knew who Theseus was. That he was more than marble and stone. To them he should be just an object, decoration, but they called him beautiful, they cleaned his home and treated him preciously.

He stares into Wilbur’s eyes as the man hovers in front of him, dusting the moss that clings to his skin. The smile on his stone face matches the one he feels in his heart, sad and longing, but in awe, looking upon soft comfort.

As they work, they talk, passing around sharp quips and banter, smiling and laughing. The two boys bump shoulders whenever they pass and the older man shakes his head at them with the fondest smile. The moment is warm, and alive. Three beating hearts, the same rhythm his once had drummed, like a symphony in the forest.

ꕥ

They work far into the afternoon, until the sun is beaming down straight through the trees, lighting the woods in a golden blaze.

The stone pillars that surround Theseus have been delicately stripped of moss and vines, with only some still clinging to it. The family had been too afraid to touch some parts, should the ancient stone crumble and break apart with too much manhandling. He appreciates their gentleness with things.

And as for Theseus, it is like he can feel the wind on his skin again. Still vines wind around his feet and little stubborn moss patches rest on his shoulders, but the sun now shines down upon him freshly. Should he still had been alive, he would’ve felt brand new.

Although the forest was already beautiful before, as always, now it was neat, with vines placed carefully aside to instead twist around trees and plants thrown back into the underbrush to be again consumed by the earth. The stone underfoot is swept clean and the sun can shine freely down upon him. And it is all thanks to Wilbur, Techno, and Phil.

Theseus wants to spring from his stone and hug each of them in turn, and bathe them in gifts of woven flower crowns and baskets of the sweetest fruit, to help them with anything they will allow him. He aches, not being able to repay them in some way for all the care the family has given to him. His saviors, his rising sun and gleaming moon, his swirling breeze and refreshing rain showers.

To them, he would give everything.

When most of the stone is swept clean of dirt and pine needles and every other stray plant, Phil takes out a light grey and white blanket and lays it gently on the ground, right at Theseus’s feet. The family settles and begins taking small jars and clear bags of food and laying them out in front of them. There are strange glass bottles that hold water, but that bend and crinkle in ways he’s never seen glass move. They have tons of the strange glasses, like glass that is unbreakable. Techno even drops one, a small round dish with a lid carrying sandwiches, and it stays firmly intact. Peculiar Theseus thinks with wonder. There is so much that has likely changed in his absence. He had always known that humans were clever and able to make amazing things. He wants to see everything he has missed these thousands of years.

As they lay out their feast before them, the family happily chatters away, and Theseus listens on intently.

Wilbur sits down beside Techno, and rudely reaches right over him, grabbing at one of the snacks. Techno scoffs, holding his food far away from his brother and trying his best to lean away.
“Wilbur! You are absolutely covered in dirt,” he chides, gritting his teeth.

“So are you, what’s the big deal?” Wilbur says boredly, finally grabbing a little bag and popping it open, leaning back to where he was sitting before.

“I don’t want that crap on my food.”

“I saw you eat a potato straight out of the ground the other day,” Wilbur scoffs, talking with his food in his mouth as he takes a crisp from the bag and eats it. Theseus wrinkles his nose. If he’d done that back at the village, they would’ve told him it was rude and impolite.

“When were you even- were you watching me?-”

“So, Phil, question. Can we get a horse?” Wilbur grins, completely cutting Techno’s sentence off as he turns to his father.

“No, Wilbur,” Phil says flatly, quickly dismissing him like it’s a question he’s heard asked too many times before.

Wilbur groans, throwing his head back.
“Whyyyyyy?” He says exaggeratedly.

“We’ve got nowhere to keep it, all the pens are full already.”

Theseus perks. They have animals?

“Then we’ll just build a stable, yeah? It can’t be that hard,” Wilbur shrugs. Phil fixes him with a stern, unamused look.

“Are you gonna build it?” He raises a brow.

“Sure!”

Phil shakes his head, looking back down at his plate.
“No.”

Wilbur groans again, leaning his chin on his hand.
“Can we get another cow then?”

Another cow? They have a cow? Theseus keens with wonder. He has not seen a cow in so long. They are such gentle, kind creatures, he misses their soft moos and warmth.

“Same thing I just said, no more room,”

“A donkey?”

“Why do you even want another animal so bad? You would be the one that has to take care of it, and you already hate taking care of the animals we have,” Phil squints at his son.

“Because I’m lonely Philza, all I’ve got are the other boring animals and this pig brother of mine that eats potatoes straight outta the ground-“

“-pigs are actually very dignified animals-“ Techno cuts in for only a moment before Wilbur raises his voice, speaking over him. Theseus can almost feel himself giggle at the banter.

“-and only ever talks about mythology-“

“-I never knew pigs discussed mythology in their free time-“

“-and it’s tiring!” Wilbur scoots over closer to Phil, “I need some change, Phil! Some excitement! Nothing interesting ever happens here!”

Phil raised his brow again, before pointing to the statue resting beside them where Theseus stood tall. He startled at the sudden attention.

“Nothing interesting ever happens here?” Phil questioned, a smile tugging at his lips. Wilbur blinked at Theseus owlishly, then turned back, staring in confusion at Phil. But then he grinned smugly and pulled himself to his feet.

“You’re so right Phil,” he chided, stepping over to stand beside Theseus with his hands on his hips, “I’ll make Theseus my new brother!”

“Bruh,” Techno said flatly, “I’ve been betrayed.”

Wilbur chuckled, putting his hand on Theseus’s shoulder,
“Ohohoho, that’s right, Technoblade. Theseus is my new and better brother. Have fun being someone else’s brother.”

“We’re still brothers in that scenario.”

“Yeah sure, but Theseus is better.”

“I don’t recall adopting a new son,” Phil grinned.

A brother. A son.
Theseus had never been those things before.

He wished so badly it were true.

ꕥ

Again the sun dappled through the canopy, and bird song rang through the air. The wind slithered between the branches and rustled the leaves, making the falling sunlight glitter upon the grass and its blanket of dew.. Theseus waited patiently, buzzing with excitement. There was a familiar heartbeat heading his way, and a voice winding through the trees that he knew was Wilbur’s, dripping with honey and the smell of marigold. If he weren’t made perfectly still, he’d be shaking, unable to contain his happiness at the company.
Soon enough, Wilbur appeared in front of him, grinning to himself. He locked eyes with Theseus, and his smile widened, dark eyes crinkling. He carried the strange, oddly shaped bag from before upon his back.

“Morning, Theseus,” Wilbur greeted brightly.

“Good morning, Wilbur“ Tommy whispered into the wind.

“Hope you don’t mind me sitting out here for a while, Techno and Phil went off to run errands and I didn’t wanna stay cooped up in the house all by myself,” Wilbur went on, pulling his bag from off his back and sitting down beside Theseus.

I don’t mind at all.

Wilbur hummed to himself as he opened the bag, and pulled out an instrument, finally revealing what he’d been carrying since they met. Theseus’s nonexistent heart skipped a beat at the sight.

It was a guitar, with smooth, polished wood and a lovely dark color.

Theseus had always loved the guitar, its sweet melody and gentle sound. A man in the village from before had one and sometimes played for the kids in the plaza, allowing Theseus to accompany them. The instrument was a marvel to him.

Wilbur said nothing else for a while, taking sheets of paper from out of the guitar case and shuffling through them. Theseus caught glances of what was written there, but it didn’t really make much sense to him. It was all just a bunch of lines and strange, unfamiliar symbols he didn’t recognize. It seemed that in all these years humans had developed a new way of writing.

Maybe Wilbur would teach him how to read it someday.

“It’s really quiet out here. Do you get lonely all by yourself?”

“Yes” he simpered solemnly.

“You probably do. I understand that. Sometimes I like the quiet but---yeah, I get it.”

The man settled beside Theseus, careful not to lean too much of his weight on him, likely in fear of the statue falling, and let out a long sigh.

He plucked a string of the guitar, and the note filled the woods.

New, imaginary tears welled in his eyes at only the sound.

Wilbur began to play, the song weaving through the air delicately, yet strong and steady, like a spider's web. Soft, silky, but able to hold the weight of a thousand raindrops. The song spun itself around Theseus, filling his mind with gold, like blossoming dandelions. He melted into it as easily as falling asleep, laying under the sun with forest creatures at his side. As easily as breathing was when he could still feel the weight of the wind and air. The song felt like the days of lying in a field of clover and feeling the grass beneath his toes. It’s the fog floating off a lake after a rainstorm has passed.

Yet it was sad, a melody of longing and missing something. Like the lonesome, midnight feeling when Theseus stumbled across an old doe, and stayed by her side until Death came to lead her to Her woods.

Wilbur inhaled deeply and began to sing.

Theseus listens to the words in what is for once a chosen silence, wading in the emotions in Wilbur’s song.

“You know it takes a lot to move me…
So if you figure it out, tell me…”

ꕥ

Wilbur stays for a few hours, songs humming in and out of him and his guitar, each one a different feeling. Songs of hurt, and longing. Hope, strength, of admitting to one’s sadness. Each and every song leaves Theseus feeling like his life is beginning anew. But finally the music fades off into the trees, and a new song does not follow the silence left behind, interrupted only by the wind tussling the overhead branches and the flitting bird song.

“Your playing is beautiful”.

Wilbur does not reply.

He takes his guitar and sets it back into its case, the sheets he carries following it. He pulls himself to his feet with a sigh and turns, facing back the way that must be home.
“Well, I’ll see ya, Theseus. Thanks for keeping me company,” Wilbur grins softly, before picking up his guitar and hoisting it onto his shoulders, then beginning his journey back through the trees.

“Goodbye” Theseus murmurs.

And he waits.

ꕥ

Another day comes, and this time it is Techno that appears through the tree line, carrying nothing with him but a small journal in his hands. His hair, for once, is unbraided. Theseus smiles softly as he approaches.

“Good morning, Techno”.

Techno says nothing as he comes to stand in front of him. He ponders the boy in front of him quietly, tilting his head at the statue in quiet thought. Theseus stares back expectantly, eager to accompany Techno. Eventually he sits down in front of the statue and opens the books in his hands.

“Usually I’d get Wilbur’s opinion on my writing,” the man mutters, mostly to himself, unknowing that Theseus is there to actually listen, “But he’s not home, and neither is Phil, so, hope you don’t mind if I brainstorm here. It just helps to talk out loud, I guess.”

“I don’t mind at all”.

Techno pulls a strange quill from the pocket of his trousers, rolling it over in his hands, and Theseus stares at it curiously.

“Damn pencil,” Techno mutters, and digs through his pocket again, pulling out a small, foldable knife. He begins gently hacking away at the edge of the---pencil? Is that what he’d called it?--pencil, sharpening the dark edge. When he’s satisfied with it, he carefully puts the knife away. Then with his pencil he starts to scribble onto the paper, frowning in thought.

“I’ve got all the characters worked out, and most of the story but I can’t figure out a name for the youngest brother,” Techno says aloud, chewing on the other side of the pencil momentarily. “He’s kinda the main character? I guess? Most of the bad things happen to him--I mean, other bad stuff happens to the other characters but like---his is really bad--Though Tobi and Dave also have it kind of rough, and William…and-” Techno pauses, “--Sorry, I know I’m rambling.”

“Go on, please, I want to hear”

Techno clears his throat and continues, “But I just can’t get this last name down. I was thinking something like--Thomas? Tommy? Tomathy?”

Theseus thinks for a moment.
I like the name Tommy

Techno stares down at the paper quietly, his eyes narrowed.

“I think…” he mutters after a long moment, “I think I like the name Tommy…. Yeah, I’ll name him Tommy.” Techno sighs, scratching out something in his journal before writing something in its place. He looks up at Theseus for a moment, then back down at his book. He clears his throat again and starts to read.
“The caravan was empty, shrouded in shadow from the dark walls outside. Tommy leaned against the window, staring up at the towering barriers of L’manburg with disdain…”

ꕥ

The story Techno told him was sad, one of exile and betrayal…

But Theseus did like the name Tommy.

ꕥ

He waited.

ꕥ

Rain patters down upon the forest in a steady thrum, like a heartbeat. It falls down through the leaves in silk streams of silver and dapples upon the leaves. Thunder rolls in the distance, a far away bellow of the sky. He was alone for today.

As long as Theseus had known humans, for some strange reason they had always disliked the rain. It was only water, and it was comforting, the sound and the cool feeling when it drizzled onto one’s skin. Theseus loved the rain, but he also understood loving the sun. After all, the sun breathed life into everything. It was the reason he had ever existed at all, a long long time ago. Storms were a little more destructive, but still beautiful.

But anyway, humans, particularly adults, had always been strangely wary of the rain.

That is why the human heartbeat he hears drumming through the trees is so surprising.

Theseus waits with a baited breath, wondering who will be here today, what they’re doing out when a storm hovers amidst the woods. Wilbur? Phil? Techno? Wilbur did not seem like the kind to like rain. Techno visited, he would always have a book with him, which would surely be ruined by the rain. Tommy was unsure about Phil, they had not had much interaction other than the day they all came together and cleaned up the shrine.

But soon he sees a figure in the trees. Phil appears, with his eyes turned down upon the grass, lost in thought. Overhead he carries some strange object, like a tent has been fastened to a pole. It’s fascinating. Not a single drop of rain has gotten on him, his body protected by the tent.
As he approaches Theseus, he finally looks up, and some of the life returns to his eyes as he offers a half-way smile.

“Hey mate,” the man mutters, stepping forward, avoiding a puddle that has gathered on the stone.

“Good morning, Phil”

He comes to stand directly in front of Theseus, carefully looking over him. He must be satisfied with what he sees, because he sighs and turns his eyes away after a moment.
“Hope you don’t mind some company, I just---needed a place to think for a while.”

“I don’t mind at all”.

Phil breathes deeply again as he looks out at the woods. His fingers curl and fiddle around the stick in his hand, twirling it. His eyes carry a strange nervousness in them, and his heartbeat feels dark, deep, a rhythm that aches with sadness. Theseus feels worry grow heavily over himself, concern hidden beneath his frozen features.

Eventually Phil moves to stand beside him. The tent he carries is large enough that it covers both of them. He appreciates the gesture.

They stand in silence, listening to the pattering of rain upon the forest floor and blooming canopies.

“I yelled at them,” Phil breathes finally.

Theseus looks at Phil from the corner of his eyes. He hates the spike of fear that faintly shoots through him.

Phil stares out at the forest, his eyes quiet and sad.
“Last night they were supposed to close up the chicken coop and, well, they were lazy and didn’t lock the gate. One of the chickens got out and…a fox got it.”

Oh…

“It’s not the first chicken we’ve lost. Unfortunately I’m sure it won’t be the last. It’s just---I got angry, cause I had told them to do it.

I shouldn’t have yelled at them. Not after the life they had before I got them out of there. And-and they were already upset over the chicken. But I still yelled at them. Why’d I do that?...

And now they’re both mad at me.…”

Phil goes silent again. Theseus waits patiently. Eventually the man shakes his head, a laugh that carries no happiness or amusement falling out of him.

“God, that was stupid. This is stupid. I’ve just been so on edge with all the new chores and taking care of the animals and getting everything with the house settled. But I shouldn’t have lashed out at them, either of them. I didn’t mean it.”

Theseus longs to lean over and rest his head upon Phil’s shoulder, to offer him some comfort. But he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know how humans work, how a family works even more importantly. He cannot even provide Phil with the comfort of knowing that someone is listening.

It only saddens him more when Phil drags his hand across his face, sighing in a groan
“Now I’m here. Talking to a statue. I’ve lost my damn mind.”

That’s all he is. A statue. That’s all he ever will be.

Phil returns to silence, looking down at the stone floor. The rain has begun to fall harder, and thunder rolls darkly somewhere not too far off. But still Phil stays, kicking at a rock underfoot.

“I’m trying to be a good father, but I feel like no matter what I do I’ve done something wrong. I’ve hurt them in some way. I’ve already had them for 4 years, you think I’d be better at this…But I just think I’m failing them both in some way. God I didn’t even apologize-”

“Phil!”

Both of them startle at the sound of a sharp voice cutting through the air, Phil jumping in surprise as he turns toward the sound with wide eyes.

There are two more figures in the trees now, and he recognizes the light of Techno’s long braid and Wilbur’s signature bright sweater. They have their arms held over their heads, trying and failing to keep the rain off of them. Both of them are soaked from head to toe. Still they run forward, eyes lighting up in relief when they see Phil.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Wilbur yells over the rain, Techno following close behind him.

“What are you doing out here?” Phil replies, stepping forward, “You don’t even have an umbrella” he hisses. He passes the object he holds to the boys, but they only push it back to him.

“We wouldn’t be out here if you hadn’t run off into the rain like you’re in The Notebook-”

“I’m sorry, boys.” Phil blurts.

Both of them blinked.
“Huh?”

“I’m sorry,” Phil repeats, his voice achingly sad, dripping with guilt, “I’m sorry I yelled.” Techno stares at him with wide eyes, until they soften slightly. Wilbur looks down, away, avoiding his father’s eyes. His own face is slightly red, like had been crying already.

“It’s alright.”

“I’m serious,” Phil sighs, taking their hands, “I know you guys didn’t mean it, it was a mistake. And you were already upset---and I yelled at you, instead of--comforting you, telling you it’s okay, anything! I didn’t even apologize, I just ran off…”

Wilbur regards him quietly, then wipes at his face with his sleeve.
“It’s okay Phil-”

“No it’s not-”

Phil is cut off as Wilbur drags him into a hug. Phil goes silent, frozen still, until hesitantly, he reaches up and hugs Wilbur back, closing his eyes. Techno joins, wrapping his arms around both of them.

“It is. You’ve been under so much stress lately and I know that didn’t help. So I’m sorry too, okay?” Wilbur sniffles

“We haven’t been much help around here,” Techno admits

“No,” Phil whispers, pulling back with a shake of his head. “You’ve been nothing but helpful, both of you.” He grabs each of their hands and holds them, “The-The work is tough, but afterwards I get to come back and be with my sons, that’s the most important thing to me.”

“You’re such a sap, Philza,” Techno mutters with a small smile.

Phil chuckles, sniffling,
“I know, but it’s true. You’re my boys, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. I’m sorry I took out my frustration on you. I love both of you.” They hug again.

“We love you too.”

ꕥ

Eventually, the family leaves to go back home, the umbrella swinging at Techno’s side even though there is still a drizzle falling on the three of them. They don’t seem to care that much. The rain has let up, the thunder rolling away, the sun peeking through gaps in the gray sky.

There had been many tearful apologies, many whispered sighs and broken, sad but hopeful laughs. And Theseus had been there for all of it.

It feels wrong. Like he was intruding. They had likely thought they were in the company of privacy during that heartfelt moment, but Theseus was there, listening selfishly. He knew too many of their secrets, of their life, even though he was not a part of it. How were they supposed to know he truly was there listening?

Guilt chips away at his stone heart, the facade of feeling.

Chapter Text

The soft pitter patter of rain slipping off of leaves echoes through the trees, the sun shining brightly overhead, chasing away yesterday’s fog of rain. Birds were singing, searching through the grass for any bugs that had been summoned by the rain. The wind lightly tousled through the overhanging leaves, a soft hush whispering through the forest.

It had only been a week or two since he’d found Phil standing beside him, soon chased by Techno and Wilbur, and then they’d all poured out their hearts at his feet. Unfortunately the family hadn’t visited since. But Theseus was happy for them, they were hopefully spending more time with each other. He tried his best to keep down the selfishness that plagued him, hoping they would include him too, that they would visit. To distract himself from wanting too much of them, he kept to other things, counting the birds that passed, keeping his list of each sunrise and sunset. He thinks he may have missed a day, too busy thinking of his---the family.

It is the first time he has ever lost track of the passing days, and he no longer knows exactly how long he has been here.

Theseus is startled from his thoughts at the sound of a branch snapping. Usually he would assume it to be an animal, but this time he knows it is Wilbur. He can hear the human heartbeat and knows that Wilbur is never careful with where he steps, always making a ruckus whenever he comes to visit. Theseus waits for the company, pushing down the part of him that whines impatiently at it. They do not visit for him, they don’t even know he’s here. They think this is some place where they can come and talk about their lives in privacy. How angry would they be if they ever found out Theseus had been here the whole time, eavesdropping?

They would never find out that he could hear them, but he still feels guilty about it.

He shoves his thoughts down as Wilbur appears, once again with his guitar upon his back. He trudges up the hill to Theseus’s shrine, grumbling about the slippery grass and mud.

“Hey Theseus,” Wilbur greets in a mutter, putting his smile back on.

Good morning, Wilbur.

Wilbur twists his mouth in disdain looking at the muddy ground at Theseus’s feet, but shrugs to himself. Apparently he decides to stand today. He clears away as much of the mud as he can, and rests the guitar case on the stone, takes his guitar out, before throwing the empty case back onto his back.

“Okay, don’t judge me for this. This song is still a work in progress, got it?”

Theseus grins inside.

Wilbur turns his head down to the guitar, pulling at the strings, twisting the little pegs on the side until he deems that the guitar sounds right.

“Alright, this one is called ‘Goodnight’” he states, then begins,

“You talk about habits
Boy I can name a few

But I don't bloody understand it
Is it chemical reactions or trained in two?”

The sound of Wilbur’s playing is always refreshing, like how plants rejoice at rain after a long summer without it. He listens, humming along somewhere in the dark state of false consciousness he lives in.

“When you die
When it's time
When you die
Who'll hold your hand to that goodnight?”

The guitar stops, Theseus perking curiously. Wilbur is biting at his nails.

“I don’t know what to do for that last bit, I kind of just wanna repeat the line ‘I hope you’re alright’” He chuckles nervously.

Theseus does not know a lot about songwriting, definitely not as much as Wilbur does. But everything Wilbur says sounds right, like it’s a masterpiece that’s already written, and Wilbur is just figuring it out.

He gets startled when a small sound rings out, like a tiny, muffled bell. Wilbur looks down at his trousers and digs through his pocket, pulling out a strange, black, rectangular object. He presses down on it and puts it to his ear.
“Yeah?”

Theseus can hear a voice coming from the weird object, but he can’t quite make out what it’s saying. It sounds vaguely like Phil.

Wilbur huffs, “Can I do it when I get back?”

….

“C’mon Phil, please?”

….

“Fine. Yeah, okay, fine. I’ll be right there.” Wilbur sighs and slips the black box back into his pocket, muttering something to himself.

“Alright, I’ll be back later,” He groans, “Phil wants me to do the dishes.” He leans down and begins putting his guitar back into its case, humming the tune of his song.

When he stands back up, now throwing the guitar over his shoulder, his foot slips, and he stumbles backward.

He stumbles right into the pillar behind him.

It makes a terrible, cracking sound, a cloud of dust flying off into the air. The pillar tilts ever so slightly,, spiderweb like cracks careening down its base, and the top half shatters, slowly, so slowly tilting more, until it completely breaks off, falling off into a huge chunks on the ground, splitting even more. Wilbur hisses through his teeth.

“Shit” He spins around, throwing his guitar down as carefully as he can in his rush and runs over to the pillar, trying to lift it back up and push it into place. “They’re both gonna kill me.”

Theseus watches, unsure of how to feel. He wants to tell Wilbur that it doesn’t matter, there is no reason he should worry about the shattered stone. But if Wilbur truly knew what Theseus was, would he agree? Or would he say the same thing? That those pillars that had trapped him within their stone so long ago were important. What would he love more if he knew? Him? Or the statue?

So he watches, conflicted, as Wilbur begins picking up the chunks of decaying stone in his hands and tries to put them back together with nothing but sheer force of will. There is nothing but Wilbur mumbling to himself about his own foolishness.

But then his muttered words are drowned out by a thunderous crack, a boom that reverberates through his whole being, so loud it is as if lightning has struck, or the earth has split in two. It shakes him. Could his lungs still move, his breathing would have stopped.

Fear—-fear strikes Tommy at the sudden sound. The sudden jolt. The sudden…..

Feeling.

Wilbur yelps, turning around to face him and dropping all the crumbling stone onto the grass. Whatever he sees there on Theseus’s face must horrify him, because the man’s own expression drops, eyes widening in terror, skin paling.

The sound repeats, lesser this time, but still loud enough to make Theseus think the earth is shaking, but he has no idea where it is coming from.

But….Wilbur is looking directly into his eyes.

“No-no no no-! Shit! What the fuck?!” Wilbur spits, rushing over to the statue. Soon there are hands fretting over him, like—like Theseus is falling apart and Wilbur is desperately trying to hold him together. He stares in confusion, wondering what has gotten the man so worked up, something—-something within him begins to race in panic. It is such an unfamiliar concept that he cannot even fathom what within him would do that

And then his vision tilts.

ꕥ

For 3000 years, for about 1104787 days, or maybe 1104788, for hours on end and minutes that ticked slowly by in a never ending spiral, Theseus had stood in the very same spot, watching the landscape stay the same, every shift of the sun and moon, watching flora and fauna spread across the fields, and trees tower into the air. Still it has always been familiar, always the same hill. Theseus was able to name each and every change of every day that greeted him.

So when the world he sees suddenly dips to the side,
It is startling.

There is that stomach drop feeling, when you miss a step and falter forward for only a single forgettable moment, that in the grand course of your life will not alter a thing, but it is enough to make your heart skip a beat.

He feels it now as the world shifts in front of his eyes.

He feels it as he falls.

But most importantly…

He feels it.

There is a thud as he hits the ground, that makes his vision shake, his body still frozen solid still, and Wilbur gasps sharply, a sound of hurt crashing through him.

Theseus can only stare and watch in a mortified, curious silence as Wilbur kneels in front of him, his hands hovering over his body like the man is afraid to touch him at all.

“Shit-!” Wilbur curses again, loudly, looking carefully over the statue. Theseus’s head is spinning in confusion.

What happened? Why- how did he fall?

Then Wilbur steps over him, and begins trying to lift the statue back onto its feet. Wilbur isn’t the strongest looking person, he’s lanky and scrawny, and that’s only proved as he grunts and strains, trying and failing to move the statue even an inch. Wilbur is still muttering curses to himself. Theseus is still running through the events in his head.

Wilbur had not even touched him. The pillar was the one thing he had harmed, and it was already just days from falling in on itself.

So why did he fall?

Wilbur must realize he is not enough to lift the statue back onto its feet and stumbles back, gasping to catch his breath as he continues to stare at Theseus guiltily and anguished. Theseus looks up at him, staring back in a still shocked and dazed state. Wilbur fumbles for the object in his pocket and begins tapping away at it with shaking hands. He puts it up to his ear and taps his foot on the stone impatiently, waiting. Nothing happens and he growls in frustration, tapping at it again and lifting it up to his face. He stands like that, only growing more upset, until finally a voice comes through the box.

“Phil! I-I broke the statue!”

“Well that’s not true”, Theseus thinks.

“I don’t know how I— I bumped into one of the pillars cause-cause the rain and my foot slipped and it broke, but then the-the-the statue just started cracking then fell over for no reason!”

…

Wilbur steps toward him for a moment, looking around again. “It’s just cracked on the chest but- but no it didn’t break apart at all. Seriously Phil, I don’t know what the hell happened. I tried to lift it but I can’t! I-I need Techno! I tried calling but he didn’t answer!”

…

“When will he be back?”

…

“Seriously?” Wilbur groans, running his hand through his hair with a shaky breath. “Okay. Uh-“ Wilbur looks down at him, a sad frown on his face and eyes that reek of guilt. “I’m gonna leave it alone. I don’t want it breaking more until Techno can help me”

…

“Yeah I’ll be home soon.”

…

“I know, thank you Phil.” He sighs, and puts the box back in his pocket, turning back to face Theseus. Theseus waits.

Wilbur takes a step back, picking his guitar case up and lugging it onto his shoulder as carefully as he can, wary of the pillars. His eyes are still locked with Theseus’s.

Then finally he swallows, and turns away.

“Wait-” Theseus shudders, wait don’t-don’t leave me here-” he begins to silently beg. But it’s a foolish attempt. Of course Wilbur can’t hear him.

The man keeps walking, and Theseus keeps begging, until he can no longer see his silhouette in between the trees. Wilbur’s heartbeat fades like fog in the afternoon.

He’s alone. He is helpless and fallen onto the ground and there is nothing he can do to pick himself back up. His only hope of help is gone.

But-but he only left to get help, right? Wilbur was just- nervous, nervous of damaging Theseus! He needed Techno’s help. That is why he left. And he is going to come back.

Still Theseus feels hollow and empty and alone again.
He hates this feeling. He wants it gone.

Somewhere between the sky and the earth, between the earth and the water, between what is his mind and what is tangible, somewhere between everything, there is a spark.

It’s like a light, like the first marks of dawn as the sun peaks over the horizon, little sprites of pink and a calming blue rising into the air as it decides that the time for day has come. It sparks a fire so suddenly that it is hard to even notice when twilight has begun, and yet still manages a peaceful rise, like a flower blooming open under the spring sun.

That little fire is accompanied by a sound.

A steady thrum, as soft and droning as a bee doting about over a meadow. Like little raindrops falling off of leaves and to the forest floor after the rain has passed. For a second he thinks that’s all it is. But—-this is something more, something louder and softer than the cool chill or warm fog of rain.

It is a heartbeat.

Theseus perks, thinking Wilbur has returned with Techno already and they will help him back up. But this heartbeat—it is too loud, and slow, like it’s only just begun. There are other heartbeats, those of birds and squirrels, but compared to this they are as quiet as mist. This is powerful, and picking up speed with every beat. It is so strong and close and—-

And it is coming from him.

It is coming from inside of him, inside the stone, in that dark space where his heart is. The heartbeat is his.

The moment the realization strikes him, the world around him is a supernova.

There is a blinding flash of light, of yellow and gold and white that drowns out the whole world and leaves a ringing in his ears. Not piercing, but loud, and twinkling like the chime of bells.

The world in front of him is shining. It’s full of stars.

ꕥ

The moment begins to fade, the shimmering gold and ringing starlight fizzing off somewhere in the wind, and the world around him comes back into view. But it is strange, and different, but familiar in a deep way he hasn’t remembered in forever.

Theseus blinks, squinting his eyes against the brightness that greets him. For what feels like too long he tries to comprehend what sits in front of him where he lay on the ground. The world is dazzling his eyes, and he has no idea what to make of it, until finally the common phenomenon he has not seen in so long reminds him of itself.

Color.

Green. There is green all around him, and little spots of white lilies and yellow daffodils. There are vines tangling over the ground and ferns spread out in wisps and moss clinging to dark brown trees. Peaking between the canopy there is little bits of gold and blue sky. There are red birds hopping in the trees and butterflies flitting around the area. The gray curse that plagued his sight is gone.

The sight is enough to make Theseus gasp loudly, his whole body jolting with the action.

His lungs fill with air, his chest heaves, the wind returns to him at once, and his heart beats faster. A inhale, and exhale, an inhale, and exhale. With every breath his mind clears, the wind an old friend he finally gets to welcome home.

Then he can feel the world, all around him. He can feel the cold stone against his skin where he lay on his side on the ground. He can smell the air and the grass and the soil, thick and heavy with humidity from the rain. He can taste the air on his tongue. He can truly, truly hear the wind and the birds and the rustle of leaves. He can see color again, beautiful and vibrant, and even then the dulcet tones of the gray stone beneath him are brighter and full of life.

He is alive.

He is alive.

The thought is so strange and beautiful and he starts to wonder if he really is finally asleep. And this is all just some dream. Maybe it was never real, and the day he had become stone really was his last, and everything else was some purgatory he had waited in until Death finally came to him to bring him somewhere nicer.

But that can’t be. Life…Life cannot be dead. They are not the same thing.

Which means this is real.

Where he lay on the ground, a sudden sob wrecked through him, scorching against his throat, hoarse from lack of use. He weeps in relief, his hands blindly grasping around, fingers shaking. Still sobbing he tries to push himself. His arms, his legs, his whole body is weak and every movement hurts, but it does not matter. It does not matter because it means that he is alive. Emotions crash through him like a hurricane, every single one turmoiling in his ribcage. He sobs, and he laughs, and sobs again, not caring how much it hurts him to move and breathe and make sound at all.

With his arms shaking beneath him he manages to prop himself up, and slowly looks over his shoulder, eyes still heavy with the weight of seeing. He is covered in dust, gray dust that mats his clothing and his skin and falls out of his hair, making him cough. The robe he had worn before is torn, tattered beyond recognition and laying on the floor beside him, leaving only the sleeveless shirt and trousers he had worn beneath them intact. The stone that had once coated his skin had just fallen off of him, leaving an empty, shattered shell.

Gritting his teeth he pushes himself, rolling himself over so he is no longer laying on his side. The action makes him ache and makes his head spin, but he finally is able to sit up. He tilts his head back, and stares up at the canopy with shining blue eyes..

The sun peeks through in little patches of golden rays and blue sky and fluffy white clouds

The tear that had been trapped on his face for thousands of years finally fell, followed by more, shining tears. He laughs, and then sobs, and laughs and sobs in some manic, beautiful way.

As quickly as he possibly could in his state, Theseus stood up, legs shaking and aching, but he managed to stay on his feet. He took a step forward, and another, and it felt like he was learning to walk for the very first time. Like life was new to him. He didn’t care. He would welcome life anew a thousand times because he knew it would be as beautiful as this every time.

He stepped forward again, and kept going until he had passed the pillars that had once held him there, off the cold and unforgiving stone, and he collapsed once again. But this time there is grass beneath him. Sweet, beautiful, soft and welcoming grass that tickles his skin as he rolls onto his back, laughing again. He stretches out, pinching his eyes shut as he raises his arms over his head. Surrounded by flowers and ferns and grass and life.

He just lays there then, sobbing and giggling and sniffling until there is a sound beside him. He turns his head to the side and locks eyes with a tiny chipmunk that had bravely stepped forward, curiously sniffing the boy. Theseus grins, laughing wetly, and he shakily reaches out to the chipmunk. It sniffs him.

All at once the animals seem to realize they are in the company of a friend. The chipmunk jumps into his hand and crawls up to his face, nestling in beside his neck. Doves and bluejays and little starlings and all other kinds of birds flutter down from the trees and perch around him, and nest into his hair and sit along his arms. A bunny crawls into his lap and stretches out over him. A butterfly lands on his nose.

Alive. Alive. Alive. He runs the word over and over again in his head like it is the center of a whirlwind he was caught in. He can’t get the word to come from his mouth, his throat still aching, but it’s okay. It will come back in time. He is fine just letting the song sing in his head.

Theseus stares up at the sky, peering through the shadow of the canopy. Though sunlight still falls down in specks, there is still so much missing. This isn’t the true warmth of the sun. He has not felt the sun in so long, he is weak and hurting and needs that light again.
There is power, thrumming underneath his skin, coiled in his chest, but there is so very little of it, so little left of the sunlight within him. He needs that sunlight back.

Luckily the animals seem to understand, and they all happily jump away from him so he may sit up. He pulls himself shakily to his feet and looks around, eyes wide and taking in all the beauty around him.

For a moment he turns and lets his gaze linger on the shrine of pillars, of crumbling stone that had once held him captive. It looks so stale and cruel against the beautiful forest.

He laughs and cries weakly again and turns away, turning down a path through the trees he’d seen Wilbur and Techno and Phil go back and forth through for a few weeks now.
Wilbur’s boots are still imprinted in the mud.

He walks down the path, stepping in sync with the footprints in the dirt, laughing at how the mud splashes and feels on the soles of his feet. Animals follow closely behind him, racing around his feet or jumping in the branches overhead. He keeps going, and going, each step faster and faster until at last he is running down the carved path, ignoring the exhaustion in him in his beeline for the edge of the forest, into the unshadowed blanket of the sun. There is gold ahead of him, a place where the trees melt away to an open plain.

Theseus pushes forward, running faster and faster, laughing the whole way until finally—

He breaks the treeline, and skids to a stop at the edge of his new woods. Ahead of him are open meadows, with fences and long fields and off to the side a little house.

The light hits him all at once. The sun races along his skin, like a warm fire enveloping him in gentle arms. Tears sprang to his eyes once again, and he grasped at his chest, shaking and laughing and crying and whispering pleas of “I’m alive. I’m home.” The animals crowd around him, nuzzling against him and chirring soft comforts to him.

The weight of the sun, gold and brilliant and thrumming with life is heavy overhead, calling him to lay down, telling him with a soft voice that he needs rest to be healed again. Theseus listens, falling to his knees in the grass with tears still rolling down his face, and then he lays down on his side. His beautiful blue eyes flutter closed and a small smile graces his face. Birds and rabbits and squirrels all gather around him while he sleeps.

It is a beautiful day to be alive.

Chapter Text

“I just don’t understand how it happened, Phil,” Wilbur shook his head, lost. He took the plate in his hands and set it in the cabinet with the others before grabbing another from the dishwasher, “I didn’t even touch it and it just fell over.” He stared down at the plate in his hands, his guilty face staring back at him in the porcelain. He looked away quickly, grabbing the rag from the counter.

“I dunno, mate. Maybe it was older than we thought. It was probably just unstable,” Phil said from where he sat at the table, sipping his cup of coffee.

“Okay, but why now?” Wilbur said exaggeratedly, angrily scrubbing at the plate in his hands with a rag. “And how come it fell when nothing even happened to it?”

“Couldn’t tell ya. But I’m sure there’s a reason, mate.”

Wilbur sighed, putting the last plate up before shutting the dishwasher. He leaned against the counter with his shoulders hunched, his eyes staring quietly forward out at the yard. He was silent for a long moment until Phil looked over, tilting his head to the side curiously. He set his mug down, “Wil? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered. Phil frowned.

“Wil,” he said softly, a sympathetic smile on his lips “don’t feel bad, mate.”

Wilbur lets his head fall against his chest with a long-drawn out sigh,
“I broke it,” he mutters listlessly, running his hand through his hair.

“It was just a mistake,” Phil comforted, “I’m sure we can fix Theseus up again, we just need to wait for Techno to get home so he can help lift it.” Wilbur didn’t reply to the soft words, still frowning. Phil sighed and stood up, walking to stand beside his son. He put his hand on his shoulder.
“It’s alright, Wil. We can fix it, okay?”

But still guilt lingered in Wilbur’s chest. Strange, seemingly misplaced guilt. Because it was just a statue, nothing more than stone.

But it…he…felt like so much more than that. Theseus, who had been waiting there for them in the forest from the second they’d arrived. Who instantly became a kind of comfort to them, a place where Wilbur had found himself coming to when he needed somewhere to breathe and think. A solid pillar he could lean against when the sun had made his mind hazy with warm comfort. Someone who would listen when Wilbur needed somewhere to spill his thoughts. And he knew the same went for Phil and Techno. The moments that things were stressful or tensions were high, they could always find one another sitting with the statue.

And perhaps he’d been a memorial to someone, a tribute to someone who’d lived long ago and had been so wonderful to someone that they’d made a statue with his likeness. Theseus meant something to someone. Theseus meant something to them too.

And Wilbur had broken him.

Wilbur sighed, leaning his head on his father’s shoulder.

ꕥ

Techno didn’t return from the library until about three hours later. The moment he stepped through the door into their home, Wilbur was flying down the stairs two at a time and practically tackling him.
“Tech!” He gasped as he ran up to his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders. Techno stumbled back, eyes wide, and before he could even question Wilbur, the man was stumbling over his words, “Techno, you’ve gotta help! The-The statue of Theseus in the woods- it fell over and I can’t pick it up and I need your help to fix it and it’s breaking and-“

“Wil!” Techno cut his brother off, grabbing Wilbur by the shoulders and steadying him, “Slow down!”

Wilbur paused finally, staring at Techno with wide eyes. He took a deep, gasping breath. Techno waited patiently until Wilbur had recollected himself. “Now, what happened?”

“The statue of Theseus fell over and-and I can’t lift it back up,” Wilbur whined mournfully.

Techno let go of Wilbur’s shoulders and frowned.
“It fell?”

Wilbur nodded, a guilty look on his face.
“I slipped on a puddle and bumped into one of the pillars and then Theseus just fell over! I didn’t even touch it!” He said frantically. Techno hummed, raising a brow.

“How’d it fall over if you didn’t touch it?”

“I don’t know!” Wilbur whined again, voice breaking at the end. Techno sighed.

“Alright. It’s fine, Wil.” He said lightly, patting his brother’s shoulder to try and comfort him, “Don’t freak out. Just let me go put my stuff in my room and I’ll be right there. I’ll meet you outside,” The man said, lightly, pushing past Wilbur to go upstairs. Wilbur nodded and grabbed his boots from beside the front door, quickly throwing them on without even bothering to tie the laces. He just shoved them into the boots. As soon as they were on, he stepped out onto the porch and began impatiently waiting for his brother, foot tapping against the worn wood.

And then the very second Techno stepped foot outside, Wilbur was racing down the porch steps urgently, his brother following quickly in pursuit. They found their way to the familiar path that they’d carved through the grass for weeks now.

“Thank you Techno. I know I can’t lift him on my own, and Phil would probably break his back if he tried to help, but you can, right? Right?”

“If I can lift two goats at once, I’m positive I can put the statue back up,” Techno smirked.

“Exactly!”

Techno snorted fondly, rolling his eyes. He and Wilbur walked side by side down the grass path, sun beaming down as they walked up the hill. But then Techno stopped. Wilbur assumed he was tying his shoe or something, and kept trudging along, his eyes on the ground to make sure he didn’t trip.

“Wilbur,” Techno said flatly from where he stood behind him, not moving an inch yet.

Wilbur stopped walking as Techno spoke, tearing his eyes away from the ground beneath his feet and turning to face his brother with a concerned look.
“What?”

Techno was staring dead ahead, his jaw firmly set and his eyes wide. He was completely still, his arm held out as if reaching for Wilbur to pull him back. Slowly, Wilbur turned his head, following his brother’s eyes to the edge of the treeline.

His breath caught sharply in his throat, eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open.

There in the grass, bathed in sunlight and surrounded by a small flock of twittering birds and other animals, was a person. Blonde, practically golden hair just barely peeked over the tall grass, ruffled delicately by the soft wind flowing over the hill. And around him were all kinds of forest fauna, rabbits, squirrels, a whole flock of different birds that Wilbur didn’t even know any of the names of.

Wilbur felt his heart sink.

“Hey! Shoo! Get off him!” Wilbur yelped, running forward and waving his arms. The animals all jumped up, scattering away into the darkness of the woods with frightened chirps and squeaks. Wilbur fell to his knees beside the figure in the grass, hurriedly looking over them as Techno joined to stand at his side. Wilbur could only assume the animals had been eating the body. Cause why else would wild animals be surrounding a human like that?

It was a young boy, with pale skin with a flush of pink. His eyes were closed, and there was a smile playing on his lips, as well as the glisten of dried tears painting his cheeks. He was wearing some kind of white tunic, with one sleeve and the other shoulder bare, and what looked like a piece of rope tied around his waist. He was also barefoot. But most notably, other than his radiant golden hair, he was absolutely caked in dust. From head to toe he was covered in gray soot, coating his skin, his hair, his clothes.

Feeling like his heart was going to burst from his chest, Wilbur leaned down, his head pressed against the boy’s chest. He could hear a heartbeat, so thank god the kid was alive at least, but there was no breathing. There was silence for a while, and Wilbur could feel the air around him getting colder with each second that ticked by, waiting for a sign that he was okay. But then finally the boy breathed, his chest rising and falling.

“Oh thank fucking god, it’s not a corpse.” Wilbur let out a loud sigh, looking over at Techno and then back at the kid. “What the hell is he doing here?!”

“Is he wearing an exomis?”

“I don’t think that matters right now, Techno!” Wilbur snapped panickedly. “What the fuck even is that-?” He muttered, shaking his head.

“Hey! Hey, are you alright?” Wilbur practically screeched, grabbing the figure by the arms and shaking him roughly.
“Wilbur!” Techno hissed, “Careful!”

The boy’s eyes flew open with a gasp.

And if his hair had been gold, then his eyes were sapphires.

ꕥ

Once the sunlight had hit Theseus as he ran out of the trees, it lowered him down into the warmth of sleep, laying him down on the gentle grass as if tucking him into bed. He had been so starved of the gentle warmth of the sunlight, that once he had it again it was almost intoxicating. Theseus fell into a haze of dreams, and those dreams were full of color and light.

But then Theseus was awoken, quite rudely he may add. He was shaken, head bobbling around and his eyes flying open with a gasp.

When his eyes adjusted to the powerful sunlight falling down over him, he was surprised to see two faces hovering in front of him with worried expressions. Two faces he had dreamed of.

It was Wilbur and Techno. And they looked the same as before, Wilbur with his dimples and sweater he wore no matter what the weather was, and Techno with his tired eyes and long braid. But unlike before, where they had been monotone and dulcet shades of gray, they were now bathed in color just like the rest of the world. Wilbur looked like a cottage had been turned into a person, with beautiful browns and yellows and auburns. And Techno was a dappled canvas of red and blue and—-

“Your hair is pink!” Theseus gasped suddenly, pointing at Techno. His voice was hoarse from its disuse, and the fact that he’d probably swallowed at least a pound of the dust left over from the statue. He started to cough loudly, hacking into his elbow. But in his chest his heart was wild, thanking the universe that finally, finally he was able to see them, to talk to them, to feel their warm presence. He held himself back from launching into their arms.

Techno stared at him with wide eyes, flickering between concern and confusion.
“….Yeah… It is.” He said curiously, his voice still low as always.

“Kid, what are you doing out here?” Wilbur cut in, grabbing Theseus by the arms and turning him to face him. “Where did you come from?” The questions poured from Wilbur’s mouth, “Where’s your parents? Why are you-“

Theseus blinked at the man, still trying to clear his throat.
“Uhhh—-“

“-covered in dust? Why were you sleeping here-”

“Wilbur.” Techno said flatly, and Wilbur stopped abruptly, “Don’t freak him out.”

Wilbur nodded, taking a deep breath.
“Sorry. Sorry, you just startled me. I thought there was a goddamn corpse on our property.” He let go of Theseus’s arms.

Techno chuckled, squatting down in front of Theseus.
“Are you alright, kid?”

Theseus swallowed. God, he wanted so badly just to grab both of them and hug them and spin flowers into their hair and cover them with bouquets. Surely, surely whatever Wilbur had done, knocking down the pillar, had been what freed him, right? He owed his life to them, and so much more. They’d kept him happy, even when he was still trapped in stone. They’d kept him from an eternity of loneliness, from losing his mind in that stone prison.

But…he didn’t want to startle them. He had been put into that stone because people were afraid of him. It seemed they…didn’t recognize him, didn’t know he was their—-the statue. Which only made sense.

Maybe…maybe they didn’t need to know. Didn’t need to know that he was the statue, or more importantly that he wasn’t human. Maybe he could pretend to be human, like them. And then they wouldn’t need to turn him away. Of course the thought of lying to them grew thorns in his heart.

But if knowing could make them afraid of him…he couldn’t take that risk. He couldn’t spend another day in stone.

“I’m…wonderful. Thank you. Thank you so much,,” Tommy said softly, smiling at the two men. Obviously his words meant much more than they could possibly know.

“Uh…yeah, you’re welcome?” Wilbur glanced at Techno, and the two stared at each other for a moment before shrugging. Wilbur turned back to him. “Were you crying?”

“Ah- no, just uhm. pollen?” That was one of the things the villagers had complained about constantly before turning Theseus to stone. Always scolding him for growing too many flowers or trees around the town.

Wilbur raised a brow at him.
“Okay then, what were you doing here?”

“…taking a nap?” Theseus replied.

“Just… In the middle of a field?” Techno squinted.

“Yes?….” Theseus grinned sheepishly.

“Okay. Uhm, alright, this is getting weird.” Techno pushed himself to his feet with a sigh and looked around. “Do you know where you live, kid? I’m sure your parents are worried about y-“

“The woods,” Theseus blurted.

The two men froze up, before turning to look down at Theseus with wide eyes. Theseus cursed himself in his head. What kind of answer is that? He wanted them to think he was normal, so why in the stars did he say that?! Of all the humans Tommy had met, they’d always lived somewhere sturdy and stationary, a house or village. Even all those years ago, before the villagers knew what power he held, they had been concerned when they learned he lived in the forest. It just wasn’t natural for humans (even though it had everything they could ever need.)

“You’re…homeless?” Wilbur muttered, staring at him like he was face to face with a talking rock rather than a person, his eyebrows knitted together with worry.

Well, it was a bit late to turn back on his heel now. Theseus swallowed nervously and nodded. Please don’t send me away. I need to live. I need to stay. “Y-yeah.”

“No parents?” Techno asked softly. Theseus shook his head. He’d never had any of those. If he told them he did, then they’d want to meet his parents, and Theseus didn’t know where to find two random people to pretend to be that at the moment.

“You’ve just been…living in the woods? Really?” Wilbur asked quietly, and when Theseus nodded again, he softly asked, “How are you even alive?”

“Well…the…woods take care of me?” He said sheepishly. It wasn’t a lie. The woods were his home, and the flora and fauna did shelter and care for him. But the answer must’ve sounded ridiculous to the two.

Wilbur and Techno exchanged another glance, saying something to each other with just their eyes. Then they both nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. Techno turned to him with a slight smile.
“Okay…. Kid, how about you come back with us and we’ll help you?” He offered, holding out his hand to help Theseus up.

“I…need help?” Theseus cocked his head to the side, confused. He was fine, right?

“Well we can’t just leave you out here,” Wilbur laughed nervously, standing up. “Uh, any longer I mean.”

Theseus stared at them, looking back and forth between the two. And Theseus was about to go for it, reaching to take their hands and let them lead him home, back to Phil where they could all be together.

But then a cold shock of fear struck through his heart, and he leaned back.

The last Theseus had trusted humans, it had ended in him trapped in a statue. Humans could be deceitful, betraying, cruel as he’d learned so blatantly. Maybe they already knew, they’d already figured out what he was and were going to trick him into going with them so they could seal him away once again.

Theseus hesitated, pulling his hand back against his chest. He chewed his bottom lip.
“You won’t…hurt me? Please?”

Both Techno and Wilbur gasped softly, eyes going wide and lips parting in surprise. They looked at each other, staring for a long time in silence.
“Uh..”

Theseus felt his heart sink. He scooted back in the grass.

Quickly they jumped to speak
“No! No no of course not, why would we hurt you?”
Wilbur stammered.

“Did—-did someone hurt you?” Techno muttered softly.

Theseus watched them, and felt a bit of relief when they seemed aghast at the idea. But still, they could be lying, right?

But then his heart whispered softly to him, reminding him that this was Wilbur and Techno. He knew them, well enough to know that they were two kind and genuine souls. They had flaws, but no human was perfect! Theseus had seen them and sat with them and listened to them through their good and bad days. The kind sparkle in their eyes was still there.

He couldn’t bear to be away any longer.

“I don’t know,” Theseus mumbled. But he did know. Because he held power that no one else did. Because even though he never would, he could easily harm a mere human. Because Theseus was “evil” and a “beast,” like the townspeople had told him.

Theseus took a deep breath and reached for Techno’s hand.
“I would…like help. Thank you,” he smiled softly. Wilbur and Techno both sighed, smiling back at him with a warm glow. As Theseus took his hand, he almost melted at the feeling of another person, their hands clasped around each other's. But quickly it was gone as Techno let go.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” Wilbur waved his arm for Theseus to follow, and the three began walking down the path toward the quaint farmhouse in the distance.
As they walked, Techno looked over his shoulder at the boy.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Theseus stared for a while in silence, before swallowing.
“It’s…Tommy. My name is Tommy.”

Techno looked back at him for a moment longer, his head tilted, before smiling.

Chapter Text

It was less than a five minute walk to their home from the treeline. As they walked, Techno and Wilbur glancing back at him an uncountable amount of times to check on him, Tommy stared at the world around them with sparkling eyes, smiling the whole way. He took in every scent, touch, taste, sight and sound. The wind shuffling through the long grass, the blue sky overhead, the glistening golden sun, the fresh smell of autumn floating through the air, the humid air from the rain yesterday on his skin. Tommy felt truly alive for the first time in eons.

As they got closer to the home, Tommy’s eyes lingered on the barn, where a menagerie of animals were wandering around within the fence. His heart fluttered happily with excitement, wanting to meet all the animals.

When they reached their home, Wilbur held the door open so Tommy could go in first. Tommy smiled warmly.
“Thank you!” He bowed before stepping inside, because Tommy had always tried to be polite. He couldn’t help but gasp when he walked in.

Tommy knew that while he had been away, things must have changed. They had to, it had been so long. But still Tommy couldn’t prepare himself for what he saw. All different colors everywhere, mechanical objects he could never imagine. Overhead were fires sealed in glass orbs. But they weren’t actually fires. It was like lightning or extremely bright candles had been permanently trapped inside a bottle and hung from the ceiling. The air positively thrummed with electricity, to where he could practically taste it on his tongue. It seemed that everything there was made of electricity.

Tommy’s mouth was agape in awe as he looked around the room, eyes wide in fascination. Behind him, Techno and Wilbur shared a sad look.

“Okay, Tommy. We’ll be back in just a minute. How about you go sit down in the living room?” Wilbur said gently, nudging the boy toward a doorway to their left. Tommy nodded, still looking at everything he passed as he went into the room. Wilbur and Techno turned and went off into another room, leaving him alone in the “living room”.

As Tommy stepped inside, his eyes immediately hooked onto a large black box sitting up against the wall. There was a painting on it, beautiful colors washed over the canvas. Tommy smiled, taking a step closer to admire it.

And then the painting changed. Right before his eyes. He couldn’t suppress a startled gasp, taking a step back.

The painting was moving, and making sounds as people moved around inside, like they’d been placed inside the black box. Tommy slowly crept closer, eyes shining with interest as he reached out to touch it.
When he touched the screen, it buzzed against his hands with that same electricity, and it felt like digging his palms into a million tiny pebbles. Tommy laughed loudly in surprise. He pressed his face up against the box, his eyes crossing as he tried to watch the moving painting from so close up.

ꕥ

“Phil? Phil!” Techno called as he and Wilbur hurried into the kitchen.

“Upstairs!” They heard Phil call from above them. They wasted no time, turning back around and bolting up the steps. They found Phil in his bedroom, working on some papers at his desk.
“Boys? You’re back soon, did you fix the statue?”

Wilbur and Techno shared a nervous glance.

“Uh, we never really…got there,” Techno rubbed the back of his neck, looking to Wilbur for help since he had no clue what to say.

“We found some random kid in the woods,” Wilbur blurted. Phil paused, staring at him with a confused look.

“Wha-?”

“We were walking down the path to go to the statue, and then there was just some kid laying on the ground, and there was a shit ton of animals around him, so I of course thought it was a corpse they were eating or some shit, but no! He was just some kid taking a nap there! And he doesn’t have a home or any parents and has been living in the fucking woods!” Wilbur took a deep breath after blabbering everything out, having to put his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

Phil stared at both of them with a blank, helpless and confused look, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he tried to think of something to say. There was too much to pick apart from what Wilbur had told him.

Techno cut in,
“So we brought him back here cause we don’t—-know what to do.”

Phil was silent for a few moments longer before shaking his head to bring himself back to reality. He slowly stood up from his desk, leaning against it.

“Good. That was—a good thing you two did. Did…uh…he tell you anything else?” Phil was desperately trying to figure out what to begin with.

“Well he uh, had to make sure we weren’t going to hurt him.” Techno mumbled, his expression softening with sympathy. Phil hissed between his teeth, before taking a deep breath.

“And he said he lives in the woods?” Wilbur and Techno both nodded. Phil sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Jeez. Well, he could have amnesia, or maybe he ran away from an abusive home…”

“What do we do, Phil?” Wilbur asked quietly. Phil was silent, thinking for a long few moments.

“Bring me to him.”

Wilbur and Techno turned immediately, with Phil following down the stairs behind them. As they walked Phil whispered to them.
“Something bad must have happened to him, that’s the only explanation,” Wilbur and Techno stepped aside , letting Phil through the doorway into the living room, “Because there’s no way he’s actually been living in the wo-“ Phil abruptly froze in place, his eyes trained on the kid standing in his living room.

The boy, caked in dirt and mud and wearing what looked like a tattered white romper, was standing up against the tv. He had his arms wrapped around it, and his cheek pressed up against the glass, still watching the tv even though there was no possible way he could see correctly with how close he was standing.

Phil blinked at the sight in silence.
“Oh dear.”

Phil took a deep breath and walked up to the boy, standing behind him. As carefully as possible he crouched down and reached forward. Phil had been a foster for many years before he took in Techno and Wilbur. He knew children that went through hell in abusive homes, and Techno and Wilbur had been some of those children. So Phil had become an expert at knowing how to treat those children gently so they wouldn't get frightened. Light as a feather, Phil tapped the boy’s shoulder.

The boy looked over his shoulder at Phil, and his eyes seemed to widen, bright sapphire blue’s meeting Phil’s, who smiled back. Phil’s eyes were also blue, but not as blue as this. Phil had never seen a blue like this.
“Hi there, mate,” Phil smiled warmly, his head tilted to the side.

“Hi,” The boy breathed, staring at him with an unexplainable warmth, like he was seeing an old friend after decades, rather than a complete stranger. Phil chuckled softly.

“My name’s Phil, what’s yours?” He extended his hand for the boy to shake. He quickly grabbed onto Phil with both hands, who laughed in surprise.

“Tommy,” He said breathlessly, still holding tight to Phil’s hand. Phil smiled more, his eyes squinting. Then his expression softened yet again.

“Do you know how you got here, Tommy?” Phil asked softly, still crouched in front of the boy. Tommy frowned, looking down at his feet.

“Uhm..” He mumbled, softly squeezing Phil’s hand while he thought, “I think I woke up. And then I followed the path and….then I fell asleep. Then W-they found me. And now I’m here.”

Phil nodded, concern etching his features. Tommy must’ve had some kind of memory problems, perhaps he’d taken a bad fall or had an illness.

“Okay, thank you Tommy.” He took a deep breath, putting on a warm smile as he stood back up. “I think you could be lost, mate. But don’t worry, we’re gonna help you get back to where you came from-“

“Please don’t send me back!” Tommy suddenly gasped, startling Phil, as well as Wilbur and Techno. They all jumped back in surprise at the unexpected outburst.

There was silence in the room for a long time. Tommy shifted nervously on his feet, letting go of Phil's hand and taking a step back.
“Sorry—I didn’t mean to-to scare you…”

“Hey, it’s okay, mate. Everyone’s okay. Do you want to tell us what happened? Why you don’t wanna go back?” Phil asked eventually, his voice soft and low. Tommy hummed uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room. His gaze lingered on them, slowly taking in each of their expressions.

“No.”

Phil stared at him silently, trying to figure out what to do with the boy. Finally he sighed with a deep breath.
“Okay. That’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it right now, and I promise we’ll keep you safe. Okay?”

“I want to stay,” Tommy keened, his eyes pleading and watery. Phil looked back at Wilbur and Techno with a confused expression. They both stared back at him with matching concern.

“You want to stay? Here?”

“Yes. Please?” Tommy asked quietly, wringing his hands in his shirt anxiously. He stared at them with a desperate look, his bottom lip trembling.
“I can—I can help you. Please don’t make me go back.”

The room was achingly silent, all four of them holding their breath.

Phil sighed softly.
“…Alright.”

“Huh?” Both Techno and Wilbur said in unison, eyes darting toward their father.

Phil looked down at the boy, gently resting his hand on his shoulder with a kind smile.
“You can stay, Tommy. I promise we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“R-really?” The boy asked breathlessly. “I promise to help! And be useful!”

“You don’t have to prove that you’re useful, Tommy. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

Tommy stared up at Phil, and slowly tears began to pool in his eyes. He laughed softly, and then loudly. He took a step closer to Phil, his arms outstretched, before seemingly remembering something and taking a step away again. Phil noticed the way he stood, how he was shifting anxiously, and then Phil smiled softly. “Would you like a hug, Tommy?”

The boy looked up, his eyes sparkling.
Not even a second later, he had launched himself at Phil, wrapping his arms around his lower torso and burying his face into Phil’s robe. Phil laughed in surprise, before leaning down to hug the child back.

Then, Tommy pulled away, and ran straight at Techno. Techno made an “oof” sound as the boy collided with him. He smiled uncertainly, patting the boy’s head. And then finally Tommy turned to Wilbur and hugged him. Wilbur smiled, tightly hugging the boy.

Phil chuckled at the sight, watching them with warm eyes. “Alright, Tommy. How about we get you a bath and into some new clothes? Does that sound good?”

The boy nodded, letting go of Wilbur and wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm.
“Yes please.”

Phil smiled,
“Wilbur, can you show him where the bath is? And me and Techno will look for some clothes that’ll fit him” He hummed in thought, “I’m pretty sure there’s a box of extra clothes around here somewhere…”

Wilbur nodded, patting Tommy’s shoulder and leading him toward the stairs.

ꕥ

Tommy could hardly contain his excitement. He was still reeling from the fact that he was actually there, alive, face to face with his saviors. Flowers threatened to sprout every time they looked at him or smiled at him or spoke to him, because for once they were actually seeing him. But he managed to keep himself in check. Now that he’d finally been in the sun again, he could feel his power thrumming beneath his skin, ready to break free and cover every inch of their home in flora. It was quite a strange feeling, having to hold his power back, like an itching in his chest and in his fingertips. But he had to control it, so he wouldn’t frighten them.

Tommy followed Wilbur up the stairs, still looking around in awe at the different things. It had all changed so much in his absence. He looked at the paintings hanging on the walls. It was incredible how detailed they were, like the scene had been frozen in time and hung on the wall. But surely that was impossible. They were probably just really good paintings.

“Here’s the bathroom,” Wilbur said, snapping Tommy out of his thoughts. He stepped inside the dark room and reached for something on the wall. And when he flicked it, the electric glass candles that he’d seen downstairs turned on overhead. Tommy gasped in fascination. He couldn’t help but step forward, flicking the switch that controlled the candle. The candle flickered on and off, on and off.

“What do you call this?” Tommy said breathlessly, not taking his eyes off it.

“Uh…the lightbulbs?”

“Lightbulbs,” he whispered. He grinned widely. “Fascinating.”

Wilbur made a soft sound of amusement.
“Alright, I’m gonna guess you don’t know how to use the faucet then either, right?” Wilbur said, turning toward the tub. He leaned down, turning the handles back and forth. “Here, this one is for cold water, and this one is for hot. And when you’re done, just pull the drain up here.”

“ How does this work? You have hot water?” Tommy tilted his head curiously. And then, with a smile “Is there a spring near here?”

Wilbur blinked at him, seemingly trying to think of something to say,
“No, not that I know of. We have something called a boiler. It stores the water, and heats it up with a fire, and then when you turn these, it sends up the water through the pipes.”

“That’s…incredible!” Tommy said, eyes shining.

Wilbur chuckled, watching him with an almost fond amusement.
“Yeah, I guess it is.” The man stood. “We’ll bring you a change of clothes in just a moment. Towels are here whenever you’re done, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Wilbur.”

“No problem,” Wilbur smiled. Then he turned and carefully shut the door behind him. Tommy turned toward the mirror, standing on his tippy toes to see himself.

It had been so very long since he had seen himself, so long that his eyes watered with tears once he did. He smiled, his own pearly blue eyes peering back at him.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. Tommy opened it to Techno, holding a change of clothes out.
“Here, let us know if they don’t fit.”

Tommy reached forward, carefully taking the clothes from Techno’s hands. It was a blue sweater and some beige trousers. He ran his fingers over the soft material and smiled.
“Thank you,”

Techno sighed softly, smiling back,
“You’re welcome, kid.”

ꕥ

Techno made his way downstairs once he heard the water turn on in the bathroom. He went back into the living room where Wilbur and Phil were. They were sitting around the coffee table with tense expressions. Phil had his hands folded in his lap, and Wilbur was tapping his foot against the hardwood anxiously.

“Phil, are you sure about this?” Techno asked as he walked in and sat down on the sofa. “I know the police wouldn’t do anything, and from experience, sending him into foster care wouldn’t be any better. But can we really just keep some random kid?”

Phil took a deep breath, staring ahead thoughtfully, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“I know it’s…crazy. But clearly he was trying to get away from something. I can’t make him go back to that, not after seeing him beg with us like that, like sending him back was a death sentence.” Phil looked away with a soft, unsure hum. “So, until we can figure out what to do, or if there’s somewhere better we can take him, he’ll stay here.”

The room returned to silence. Of course Wilbur and Techno agreed with Phil. They were all just tense, unsure about what to do with the strange child they’d found. Because yes, clearly something had hurt him, so badly that he needed to run away. And of course they wanted to do everything in their power to protect him from that, because no child can deserve such pain. But still they were all conflicted on the matter.

And then—-there was a snort.

“Phil,” Wilbur giggled, “You’ve got a leaf in your hair.”

The unsure tension in the room was immediately broken, and Techno began to laugh as well. Phil reached up and plucked the green leaf from his hair.
“How in the—I haven’t been outside all day! What the hell?” He laughed amusedly. They all broke out into laughter and giggles, and the home returned to its warm atmosphere.

Chapter Text

When Tommy was done in the bath, pulling the stopper and watching curiously as the water was swept down the drain. he carefully crept out into the hallway and toward the stairs.

The clothes that he’d been given were insanely soft and fit comfortably around him. And now that he’d bathed, he was clean of all the dust that clung to him from his time as a statue. His hair was back to its radiant gold and he could no longer feel the grit that was left over from the stone upon his skin.

He could almost forget it had ever happened, if not for the ache he felt in his heart whenever he thought about the coldness of being stuck there for thousands of years, forced to watch the world change and shift around him and to never get to explore it. But then he could push those dark memories away, comforted by the knowledge that he was finally alive.

When Tommy walked downstairs, Phil, Wilbur, and Techno were sitting in the living room, staring at the changing box painting silently as voices played from it. Tommy couldn’t suppress an amazed smile. He slowly walked forward into the room.

“How do the paintings move like that?” Tommy asked softly. The three men jumped in surprise as he appeared. Phil looked to what Tommy was staring at.

“Oh, uh…That’s a TV,” Phil said with a curious, yet almost worried amusement, “ it uses cathode-rays to send colors from a signal into the screen. And the signal sends the TV what it gets from the camera.”

“Nerd,” Techno whispered behind his hand.

“Oh hush,” Phil scolded his son with a smirk.

Tommy smiled. Sure he didn’t know what a lot of what Phil just said meant, but he was excited to learn.”
“How does all that stuff work?” He grinned. “And how do they harness electricity? And what did they use to make all this stuff?”

“Uh…” Phil hesitated, laughing nervously. “It’s a lot of difficult stuff that I think would be too hard to explain. But I could probably tell you what a camera is!” Tommy nodded eagerly, bouncing on his toes while he waited for Phil to explain. “Well, uh, a camera uses a lens to reflect the light around it, and then uses electricity to freeze the light and mimic it, and then you get a photo.”

“Here, I’ve got one I can show you,” Wilbur quipped. He stood up and walked toward Tommy, pulling the small black rectangle that Tommy had seen before from his pocket. He held it out in front of his face, and then there was a small clicking noise. When Wilbur turned the object around, Tommy was astonished to see himself in the frame. It was really him, his face frozen in an expression of pure curiosity, lips parted and eyes wide. Tommy gasped, snatching the box from Wilbur’s hand.
“Woah! It’s—-it’s like a painting! But it only took a single moment! That’s amazing!” The three men laughed warmly at how enamored he seemed to be with every little thing.

“Cool right?” Wilbur smiled, taking the “camera” back. Tommy nodded, eyes sparkling with awe.

“All these things are incredible! It’s amazing how you’ve created all this stuff.” They laughed again warmly, his wondrous demeanor was infectious.

“Are you hungry, Tommy?” Phil asked with a kind and warm smile, “You probably haven’t eaten a good meal in a while, right?”

“Uh…” Tommy hummed. Tommy wasn’t really hungry ever, at least not for human food. The only food Tommy needed was the sunlight. But if he told them no, they’d probably be suspicious, right? And besides, though he didn’t need to eat, he had liked to sometimes. He didn’t need the taste, but he couldn’t deny it was a lovely sensation. “Yes, sir.” He lied, feeling guilty that he had to lie to them about something so simple. He wished he could tell them the truth.

Phil smiled affectionately.
“What would you like?”

Tommy quickly tried to think of something humans would eat.
“…bread?”

They all blinked, sharing a look with each other, until finally Techno chuckled amusedly.
“How about a sandwich?”

“Yes.” Tommy said matter-of-factly. “A sandwich.”

Techno pushed himself up off the sofa and walked toward what appeared to be the kitchen. “Alright, it’ll just take a second.”

When Techno left the room, Phil leaned forward with a kind smile, his hands on his knees. He patted the cushion beside him.
“You’re welcome to sit down, Tommy.”

Tommy happily took the offer, stepping forward and sitting down beside Phil. He kicked his legs back and forth as he sat, patting the cushion underneath him.

“Do you know how old you are, Tommy?” Wilbur asked suddenly. With a quiet clearing of the throat, Tommy hesitated again. What was a normal human age? Tommy was thousands of years old, as old as the earth itself, but he’d always been told before that he didn’t look old enough to be a god, whatever that meant. Everyone always told him he looked like a child, which he could understand. But Tommy was having some trouble remembering what age he did look like.

“I am….twenty—no! Ten!” He grinned shyly, laughing sheepishly, leaning back against the sofa like he was trying to melt into the cushions. Wilbur snorted.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” the man grinned. Tommy laughed again nervously.

“I’m certain. I’m ten. And a half…” he said quickly, voice slowly getting quieter.

Wilbur chuckled with a light shake of his head.
“Okay, okay. No need to be so shy, I’m just messing with you, Tommy.”

“Ah. O-of course. I was certainly aware.”

Wilbur snorted at the obvious lie.

When Techno came back, he handed a plate to Tommy, who took it as carefully as possible and set it in his lap.
“Is a PB and J alright with you?”

“Huh?” Tommy tilted his head.

“Ah—sorry. A peanut butter and jelly?” Techno quickly corrected himself, shaking his head once like he was trying to correctly scramble the thoughts in his head. Tommy hummed softly, looking down at the sandwich. He’d had jelly before, from one sweet old woman from the village, but never “peanut butter.” Tommy smiled.

“Yes, this looks excellent, Techno! Thank you,”

Techno let out a soft breath of amusement,
“No problem, kid.” He went and sat down beside Wilbur.

Tommy gently picked up the peanut butter and jelly and took a bite.

And oh Goddess. It was incredible.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t tasted in so long, but this. This was divine. The boy made a soft sound of content, and the three men around him chuckled, almost sadly however. But Tommy was too caught up in how amazing the sandwich tasted to notice.
“This is incredible! Techno, thank you! How did you do this?”

Techno snorted, rubbing the back of his neck shyly,
“You’re welcome. And It’s pretty easy to make. Just…peanut butter and jelly and bread.”

“Spectacular…” Tommy whispered

ꕥ

Later, when the sun was set, Phil took Tommy upstairs. As he gestured to the different doors on one end of the hallway, he told Tommy what each of them led to.
“This one here is my room, you’ve already seen the bathroom, and these two rooms are Wilbur’s and Techno’s. If you need something, just come get one of us, okay?”

“Okay!” Tommy nodded happily. Phil looked down at him with a soft smile, before turning toward the last door at the end of the other end of the hall past the staircase and leading him towards it.

“And here’s where you’ll be staying,” Phil told him kindly. He opened the door for Tommy, revealing a tiny cozy room. The walls were cloaked a light beige and yellow color, and there were tiny prints of flowers arranged in patterns all along the wallpaper. There was a queen-sized bed, covered with a dark blue colored comforter and lovely decorative pillows fluffed up in an array of different shades of white and tan. The nightstands and dresser were made of a dark oak and were etched with regal looking engravings. The floor was a light hardwood and covered by an oval-shaped rug with floral patterns. On the window on the far wall was a potted peperomia that seemed to be withering, its leaves crisp and brown.

“This…is mine?” Tommy asked, looking around with a wandering gaze.

“Mhm!” Phil smiled. He walked inside and reached for what looked like a fancy gas lamp, but when he flicked it on, it was electric, like everything else in the home. Tommy marveled at everything around him. “This is your room for now.”

Tommy smiled warmly. He walked over to the bed and trailed his hand along the soft and silky comforter, before hopping onto it. The bed bounced underneath him, and he laughed.
“This is wonderful, sir.”

“Just Phil is fine,” the man smiled, walking around to the other side of the bed and fixing a pillow that had fallen out of place. “Does everything look alright? Do you need anything?”

Tommy started to think about what more he could possibly need, but his mind came up empty. They’d already given him so much. When Tommy had first come to the village, they had thrown a giant parade for him and covered him in gifts.

But that paled in comparison to the things that Phil, Wilbur, and Techno had given him.

“It’s lovely. It really is,” Tommy whispered softly. As he sat there, his eyes drifted over toward the window, and the peperomia sitting on the sill. Phil hummed curiously, following his line of sight over to the plant.

“Oh,” Phil said with a soft breath when he saw it, “That. I’m not quite sure what happened with it. Either too much water or not enough. The thing is so picky,” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll see what I can do with it tomorrow morning.”

Tommy frowned softly, giving the peperomia a sad look.

“Well, you should get some rest, Tommy,” Phil sighed with a smile full of warmth, walking toward the door. “If you need anything, please just come find one of us and let us know, okay? We’d be happy to help.”

Tommy smiled, feeling his chest buzz and his heart flutter with a happy feeling.
“Thank you, Phil,” he murmured, for about the billionth time just that day. The man gave him a soft look, his smile crinkling the crow’s feet beside his eyes.

“You’re welcome, Tommy. Get some sleep, kiddo.” With that, he turned and left, gently closing the door behind him.

Once Tommy heard Phil’s footsteps retreat down the hall, he laid back on the bed flat on his back, his arms outstretched at his sides. He stared up at the ceiling, running the day’s events over in his head. It still didn’t feel real. Part of Tommy continued to whisper to him that he was still in that statue, and all of this was something his aching heart and mind had created in an attempt to keep him from being lonely.

But he couldn’t deny the warmth that the family had given him. When they looked at him, he felt alive again, like he was being recreated over and over again each time.

Tommy let out a soft breath of content.

As he lay there, his gaze flickered over toward the peperomia sitting in the window. He frowned sadly, sitting up. As quietly as he could he slid off the bed and crept over toward it.

“Hello there, little one” His voice was a finely spun silk as he spoke, resting his head on his arms and his arms on the window sill, looking at the plant with a sympathetic smile. “Poor thing, did you get sick?”

Tommy gently picked the pot up in his hands and pulled it close to him. “No need to worry, I’ll make you better.”

Tommy closed his eyes, focusing his power. It was still a bit weak from how long he’d gone without using the blessing. He could feel its faint hum and itching underneath his skin. He took a deep breath before pushing his magic forward into the plant. It took a lot of strength to summon after so many decades without use, but finally he felt the magic bloom at his fingertips. And then it was simply second nature. He poured the magic into the plant.

Slowly, the little bit of green left on the peperomia’s leaves began to spread out across the plant. It rose from its sunken and withering state, leaves stretching happily out and stems rising into the air. Slowly, Tommy opened one eye, peeking at the plant. When he saw how his magic had worked, how it had rejuvenated the plant with life, he let out a quiet, ecstatic laugh. He hugged the potted plant close to his chest before setting it back in its place on the window sill, fondly running his hand over the leaves.

“There you go. You look so much better!” He whispered gleefully, his eyes full of kindness. Once he was sure the plant was going to be alright, he went back over to the bed and pulled the blankets back, before sliding into them. He cuddled in between the silky comforter and the warm pillows and sheets and closed his eyes. He could still hear Wilbur, Techno, and Phil’s heartbeats, gentle from the floor below him. He let the soft thrum carry him to sleep.

ꕥ

The next morning, Tommy woke just as dawn began to creep across the world in a pale blue and eventually a soft pink. He slid out of his bed, slightly mourning the warmth of the sheets, and tiptoed over to the window, quietly so he wouldn’t wake anyone else up. He looked outside and smiled happily.

Tommy’s room faced the back of the house. The chicken coop in the backyard, along with a large garden, and then the barn off in the distance. He could hear the animals stirring from across the field as the sun rose, a cow’s moo, a rooster crowing, sheep braying.

“Good morning,” Tommy whispered. It was the first sunrise he got to welcome finally free of his stone and marble shackles.

Some short time later, he could hear the others in the house as they began to stir too. He heard soft voices from down the hall, and then heard their heartbeats retreat down the steps. He watched as Techno went out into the backyard and made his way to the barn across the field, while Wilbur came outside after him dragging a bag of chicken feed. He went into the coop and was immediately surrounded by the birds, all crowing at him impatiently. He heard Wilbur yelp as a few began to peck at his ankles. Tommy had to muffle his laughter by putting his hands over his mouth as he watched Wilbur struggle with the chickens as he tried to pour their food out for them.

Sometime later, while Tommy sat by the window, he heard Phil’s heartbeat grow louder, and then there was a knock at his door.

“ Tommy, morning Kiddo! I made so- oh-.” He paused when he saw the boy sitting by the window sill, eyes wide “you’re up already?”

Tommy smiled curiously,
“Mhm?”

“Ah,” Phil gave him a guilty smile, “Sorry, did we wake you?”

Tommy shook his head with a twinge of confusion. The sun had risen. Wasn’t it time to be awake?
“No? It’s morning…”

Phil nodded, laughing softly.
“Right. Just most kids I know don’t wake up till the afternoon.”

“Oh.” Tommy muttered to himself, drumming his fingers along the windowsill. He’d need to keep that in mind.

“Well, anyway,” Phil gave him a warm, inviting smile, “I made some breakfast if you wanna come down and get some! You think you wanna try waffles?”

“Waffles…” the boy murmured ponderously. He smiled up at Phil and walked toward him, nodding expectantly.
“Yes, I would love to have some waffles.”

Phil smiled in a way that seemed like he was trying to hold back a laugh, and his eyes glinted with warmth.
“Good. You can go sit at the table and I’ll make a plate for you,” he gently patted Tommy’s shoulder as he passed, headed toward the stairs. As Phil began to follow him, he paused in the doorway to the boy’s room with a perplexed look, his gaze flicking toward the window.

The peperomia, the plant Phil had been struggling to keep alive for weeks now, was suddenly lively, fronds and leaves stretched toward the sunlight pouring in the window. All signs of the withering it had been plagued by before were gone. In fact, it was almost as if the plant had grown twice its size from how it originally was supposed to be. Phil furrowed his brow as he looked at the plant.
“Wasn’t that…”

After a long and extremely confused moment, Phil shrugged his shoulders and went after Tommy.