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The sound of an arrow hitting skin, an unwelcome interupption to what would've been a victory. A stifled cry, and the sound of a body hitting the ground.
The world froze around Tommy. Dream was still standing, no sign of an arrow making contact- who'do gotten hit? Tommy whirled around, now panicked. The blonde's heart stopped. His eyes were drawn to the arrow that was now protruding from Tubbo’s lower gut, and the red that was spreading around it. His heartbeat thundered, and Tommy could feel the beginnings of nausea curling in his stomach. Dream had missed. Dream had missed.
It was silent. So, so unnervingly silent. With that silence came the ringing, the sharp echoing of his ears not adapting to the quiet.
Dream was supposed to hit him, not Tubbo. The bow in Tommy’s hand gradually slipped. His hands were sweaty.
Dream lowered his bow and stood still, face turned towards Tommy. The mask hid his expression, but shock was written all over him; in the sharp, jerking movements of his hands, down to the shifting of his feet. Tommy was frozen. For once in his life, the young man was quiet. “Tommy,” Tubbo gasped out. “Tommy please-” The fear rooting the blonde man's feet to the ground shattered. Tommy dropped his bow and within seconds was holding Tubbo. The spiky grass dug into his bare knees. His friend’s eyes were slowly filling with tears, and Tommy felt his world start to crack.
“Tommy… am I dying?” Tubbo wondered softly. His hand raised to land on Tommy’s shoulder, and he gripped the textured fabric of the hoodie. The touch burned. “...I don’t want to lie to you, Tubbo. I don’t know. But I’m here, and you’re not alone. Whatever happens, I’m here.” The blonde boy’s voice was quiet even to his own ears, just a rumble in his chest. He shifted to allow Tubbo to lay down, still holding him. “I tried my best, Tommy.” Tubbo whispered. Tommy’s eyes burned, a new sensation to match the guilt bubbling somewhere in his chest.
“You did the best, man. The best out of all of us.” Tommy insisted. Tubbo hummed and relaxed, despite how much pain he must be in. “I wanna sleep,” Tubbo slurred. Tommy just cradled him, the only permission that he could give. He felt so helpless. “Tubbo, I love you. You did so well. I’m so proud to be your friend,” Tommy murmured. He felt Tubbo sigh, and looked down to see a soft smile on his face. “I love you too, Tommy. I’m happy that you finally said it.” Tommy held Tubbo closer, rubbing his shoulder with his thumb. He knew that however much he prayed, the brunette was dying. He wanted Tubbo’s last moments to be filled with comfort. “Y’know, I always loved your bees,” Tommy mused.
Just keep talking, he told himself. Keep Tubbo awake.
He felt Tubbo perk up. “I’m gonna go home and give them lots of treats when I get back,” Tommy promised. Tubbo’s shining grin was reward enough. “Tell them I love them, and- and that I-” Tubbo started to cough. Tommy panicked. “Hey, Tubbo breathe, it's okay-” the sweet moment was over. The reality of it hit Tommy like a bag of bricks.
“Tommy I love you, I love you please remember-”
“Tubbo please stay awake you can’t leave me yet I’m not ready-”
Their voices overlapped each other. Tommy started to tear up again, the burning in his eyes doing nothing to help the sudden cacophony of panic because God dammit his friend is dying!
“Tommy.” The voice was too steady to be Tubbo’s- Tommy turned to look at Sapnap, who was crouched a good foot away. Tense, as if expecting Tommy to attack. “He’s dying, Tommy. Let him go.” The man’s bandana fell into his face, but Sapnap did nothing to fix it. Tommy could see the anguish in the older man’s eyes, and knew that no one could help Tubbo now, because if Sapnap had given up, there was no hope. Tommy keened low in this throat, a sound that cut through the tension-filled air like a knife through butter. A grieving, pained sound. “Tommy, don’t cry.” Tubbo whispered plaintively. Tommy stayed silent, whipping his head around to look at his friend, who was visibly weakening. “It’s okay, Tubbo. I w-won’t cry.” Tommy promised. He held Tubbo’s hand softly, providing warmth to it. And so, helpless, he watched as the life faded from his eyes, heard the breaths stop as Tubbo’s suffering finally ceased, and felt his heart shatter.
Tommy started to hyperventilate, mind rejecting the idea that Tubbo was gone and yet trying to accept the fact that there was his body, so he must be dead. Tommy let go of Tubbo and barely heard the thud from his body hitting the ground. Through blurred vision Tommy noticed the dark blood spread around him, noticed how cold he was, noticed the soft speaking of people behind him; but it didn't matter. It didn’t matter because Tubbo was dead, his brother was gone, and nothing was real anymore. It was too quiet. Tommy shouted out Tubbo’s name, voice cracked and broken. Tommy threaded his hands through his hair, pulling at the blonde strands as he let out a long, uncontrolled scream of pain.
“Tommy- Tommy calm down it’s okay- You’re okay-” Sapnap came forward to restrain Tommy, trying to get the young man to stop pulling his hair. “No! No no no, he's gone it's not okay he’s not here!” Tommy’s voice raised into another shrill scream as he fought to get away from Sapnap’s determined grip.
“Tommy.” Wilbur’s voice broke through the scream, and a hand was placed on his shoulder. Tommy jerked in surprise, looking up at his president and friend. Then Wilbur hugged him tightly, and Tommy felt the wetness of tears on his neck. Tommy hugged back equally as hard and sobbed into Wilbur’s chest, curled uncomfortably but not aware enough to care. The paranoid part of Tommy’s brain screeched at him to look up, see if Dream and George were still there, but he didn’t. At this point, he wasn’t above begging to be killed. A world without Tubbo was Hell. “I’m sorry, Wilbur.” Tommy whispered. He didn’t even know why he was sorry; sorry for not shooting Dream? Sorry that he had not gotten hit?
The older man just gripped him tighter, enveloping the distraught blonde in warmth. An explosive sob ripped through Tommy, leaving him shaking and disoriented. Whatever he was sorry for, it didn't matter. He was gone.
Tubbo was gone.
----------
They were home. L’manburg. The place Tommy had given everything to protect, the place Tubbo and him had built from scratch.
Tommy was numb.
George, Dream, and Sapnap had left quickly; Tommy hadn’t said a single word to them. Every time he looked at Dream, Tubbo’s tear streaked face flashed in his mind, so he’d kept his eyes to the ground. Wilbur hadn’t once let go of Tommy, and it was starting to become infuriating, because every touch felt like Tubbo and every word sounded like Tubbo and god Tommy missed him. But he wouldn’t cry, because Tommy had promised his friend he would not; Tommy would bear this pain like his friend had borne his, because he owed it to him. So the young man watched as Fundy carried Tubbo inside, and he longed to go in but knew he couldn’t. Wilbur was crying again. The sun was setting, and Tommy knew they should get inside, but he just sat on a log with Wilbur and let the apathy course through his veins. Maybe he’d wake up tomorrow with Tubbo curled beside him. Maybe they’d go out and pet the bees, then tend to the garden while laughing about the stupid dreams they’d had the night before. Maybe they’d walk down to the pond and make flower crowns, and Tommy might complain about it but they’d both know how much it meant to him.
Then again, maybe Tommy would wake up and the sky would be gray and the sun would lose its brightness. Maybe the leaves- now turning orange- would no longer spiral in looping patterns across the fields. Maybe the flowers would droop and the bees would slow, because what was a world without Tubbo in it? What was a world without his brother, who could light up a room with a smile? His comrade, who’d charged into battle with him and demolished every mob that came their way? There was no world, and that was the conclusion Tommy came to while Wilbur cried and the torches sputtered on the walls. There was no world because Tubbo was his world.
And Tubbo was gone.