"Owww... oww, stop," Tommy leaned back from the warm cloth Phil was holding on his bruise, pain biting through his skin.

They were back in the cottage sitting on a sofa in the middle of the small living room. It was small with a fireplace created from stones, not currently in use.

After Tommy had stupidly spit in Techno's face, the sixteen-year-old had punched him hard. The only reason he didn't make him completely unrecognizable was that Wilbur had been there to put reality in his mind, telling him if he killed Tommy he wouldn't ever find his hatchet.

Anyway, here they fucking were. A large bruise had gathered on his left cheek, just shy of hitting his eye. It was dark and purple in the center- his cheek had swollen a bit as well, making it look puffy. That stupid prick!

As an addition, Tommy had been forced to tell Techno where his hatchet was and where Wilbur's music sheets were. Stupid.

"I know it hurts, Tommy, but you brought it on yourself," Phil said, dabbing his cheek lightly as he leaned down in front of him. Tommy gritted his teeth in pain, looking away with angry eyes.

"It was a joke!" He hissed. "Techno couldn't take a stupid joke!"

"You spit in his face. What did you expect?"

Tommy didn't reply, anger burning through him.

"And you got your hoodie all dirty. The white part may have a dirt stain on the back now."

"Whatever," Tommy grumbled. "It's only because Techno pulled me back by the hoodie and made me fall."

Philza sighed, sitting back. "Take it easy for the next few days, okay? You're lucky you got off that easy."

"Fuck you," Tommy whispered under his breath, inaudible to Phil.

Phil sat up, leaving the wet rag in Tommy's lap. Tommy used it to press against his cheek, ignoring the pain that flailed from his uncaring movement.

He stood up, leaving the cloth behind on the sofa and decidedly heading up the stairs. He walked into his and Tubbo's shared room, watching the smaller boy sorting cards of some sort that were displayed on the floor.

Their room was a mess. The bunk bed had the cover from the higher bed hanging low, almost touching the bottom mattress. A few daggers lay in a corner of the room where Tommy had attempted to look through them but lost interest. Stains covered the soft grey carpet, with random dark spots and light spots everywhere. Different items, ranging from books to random bags, sat on the ground.

Ninety percent of it was Tommy's fault. There was a time when Tubbo tried to clean it up every day but it was useless as Tommy was just too messy of a person.

"Hey, Tubbo," Tommy greeted, his voice a bit downcast as he looked into the room. A window was at the back wall, shining light onto them. Tubbo looked up, his dark brown eyes landing on Tommy before he winced.

"Ow, that looks bad," he commented, his gaze flicking to his cheek. "It's purple. I've never heard Techno so mad. Well, that's a lie. I remember when you scraped his best sword really bad. And when you pushed him out of a tree, breaking his arm. And when you-"

"I get it," Tommy snapped. He immediately felt bad for his tone. "Sorry," he huffed, letting out a sigh. "Techno is a bitch."

He padded into the room, sitting down beside Tubbo on his knees. "What are you doing?"

"I wrote all those herb cards, like, a month ago. Do you remember that? Anyway, now I'm sorting them."

His dark hair fell over his face as he looked down at a small picture of a green-leaved plant, a small pink flower protruding from a stem. Tubbo was pretty good at drawing.

"I'll help you," Tommy offered, making Tubbo give him a suspicious look.

"What?" Tommy asked.

"When I was writing them you said it was boring and dumb."

Tommy shrugged. "Things have changed, big man. Plus Phil said I have to take things easy because Techno punched me."

Tubbo smiled and gave him a handful of cards. "These are the flowers. Sort them alphabetically."

"What? There's like, forty of them! I don't want to sit here for that long."

"You said you wanted to help," Tubbo replied, looking at him.

Tommy let out a large sigh, comedically muttering to himself as he looked through them. "Azalea... Orchid... what's the point of this?"

"I like them," his friend said as if it was obvious.

Tommy flashed him a look, blinking back down at the cards. "Sunflower. I like the drawing. Can you draw me?"

"No."

"I have great big muscles. It'd be awesome practice."

"No."

"My hair is that of a god. My chin looks like it's chiseled from stone."

"No."

"My eyes are dreamy and light blue like the sky. My skin is nice and smooth."

"No."

"Oh, come on!" Tommy muttered to himself again, a smile on his lips. "You're so boring."

Tubbo looked up at him, his face straight. "Are you done? And rose comes before tulips."

Tommy looked down at the cards, realizing he'd made a mistake. "Whatever. I meant to do that. My mind is smarter and above your simple thoughts- you could never understand me."

"Okay," Tubbo said, smiling a little. "Hey, remember when you spat in Techno's face? That had been pretty dumb."

Tommy jerked the cards to the ground, and despite his playful nature, he made sure to not let them spill everywhere and kept them in a stack. "I'm leaving. You're no fun."

"Close the door on your way out, please."

"Fuck you," Tommy snickered as he slammed the door, turning in the hallway. What should he do? Wilbur and Techno weren't talking to him at the moment. Apparently, Tommy had accidentally gotten one of Wilbur's music sheets wet or something, so he was angry at him. What about Phil?

He had just been with Phil. Eh, whatever. Tommy padded back down the stairs, shouting, "Phil! Where are you? Phiiillll!"

He heard a door slam open from up the stairs and Wilbur shouted, "Can you shut the fuck up? I'm trying to rewrite the notes you ruined!"

"Sure. Philllll!"

Wilbur made an angry noise and his door slammed shut again.

He padded into the kitchen, his eyes falling across Phil. He was sitting in a chair at a table, looking distraught as he held a slip of paper in front of him.

"Phil, king," Tommy greeted, walking up to him. "What's up?"

Phil glanced up at him, blinking. He seemed worried, lines engraved on his forehead. "Hey, Tommy," he sighed.

"What happened?" Tommy asked, maneuvering around the table to peek at the paper he was holding.

Phil folded it before Tommy could see what it said, sitting back. "You should go up and talk to Tubbo," he told him. Curiosity was beginning to gather in Tommy's mind. What did the note say? Phil had been fine a few minutes ago. 

"I just did. He's sorting cards. Everyone else is mad at me."

Phil watched him, seemingly in thought. "Had anything happened to you lately, Tommy? Just anything unusual?"

Tommy gave him a weird look. "What the fuhhh... no? What's going on?" He asked, almost cussing but not quite. He was intrigued now in the note. Tommy blinked, wondering what Phil was hiding.

Phil shook his head. "Nothing to worry your little mind about, mate. Go off and do something in your room."

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