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The war has been won. Wilbur Soot is dead and buried. Schlatt is dead, he'll be buried. L'manberg's blown to shit. He's the President.
Tubbo keeps repeating those words over and over to himself, wishing that the mantra would make him feel better. He doesn't know what the hell is wrong with him. He should feel happy. Tubbo should feel happy. The war is finally over, his ex-mentor is dead. Both of them are dead, actually. Although, he had always considered Schlatt more of a mentor than Wilbur, no matter what everyone told him. Schlatt might have been evil, but is evil really the word for it? Tubbo doesn't know.
He's uncertain about so many things, and he hates it. He slouches back in bed, squeezing his eyes shut. He wishes that he would cry, he wishes that he'd feel anything. All he feels is devoid and empty, exhaustion overtaking his every waking thought. Tubbo doesn't understand why. The war is over, he should be happy. He has his best friend as his VP, and everything is finally going the way that they should. L'manberg is back in safe hands, and Tubbo, no matter how scared he is, knows that he'll make a good President. If he can get out of bed. He knows that everyone is waiting for him to come out of his house and start ruling, but he's..
He's so tired. He's exhausted, and he hasn't even done anything today. Quackity and Fundy have come in to check on him, offering to get things up and running while he rests. They have pity in their eyes, and it makes Tubbo want to be angry. He doesn't have the energy to be angry, he doesn't have the motivation in him to be angry. He wants to be. He wants to shout at them, to tell them to fuck off, that he's fine. But he isn't, and it's so abundantly clear. He can't even deny it even if he wanted to, and he can't, because he barely has the energy to talk. Eret and Niki came by earlier today, offering their congratulations and praises, disappearing when Tubbo responded to none of them.
Tubbo can't keep his eyes open, although he isn't physically tired. Is he physically tired? He doesn't know, everything has blurred together. So many things have started to blur together, and he hates it. Tubbo doesn't understand why he can't get out of bed, why he can't force himself to stand up and get his shit together. He was doing so well. He was doing so well, he was fighting in the war and making moves against his enemies, and he was..
He stopped moving, and now he can't start again.
Tubbo has been trying, he really has been. He's been trying to get moving again, he's been trying so hard, but nothing is working. Niki tells him to stay in bed, that he'll feel better if he waits it out. Eret tells him that he needs to get up and out of his house, that he needs to start moving, even if it's hard. Fundy has offered to take him to see Wilbur, figuring that it would make them feel better. Tubbo can see through his advisor's words - Fundy only wants someone to go visit his father with him. Tubbo isn't stupid, no matter how much everyone seems to think he is. Quackity told him that Schlatt sometimes got like this, after he tried to stop drinking. He said that it never lasted long, and Schlatt was emptying another bottle within the same week, if not the same day.
The only person that hasn't consistently come to visit him is Tommy, and Tubbo hates that he knows why. He knows that Wilbur got like this, sometimes. Tommy told him all about it. How he'd sometimes go silent for weeks on end, how sometimes he wouldn't leave his room for months. How sometimes Phil had to physically drag him out of his bed, how sometimes Phil had to flip the mattress just to get him out of bed. Tommy told him all about how Wilbur became entirely useless for however long he was like this, how he was just another mouth to feed. Tommy hadn't spoken about the experiences kindly, and Tubbo tried so hard to hide what was happening to him from his best friend.
He knows that thinking about Wilbur brings up bad, maybe even horrible, memories. How he slowly started to go insane down in those caves, down in Pogtopia. How he lost his mind, and how he started to ramble on and on. Tommy doesn't talk about Wilbur that much anymore, and Tubbo is okay with that. He's not okay with his best friend hating him over something he can't control. Tubbo tried so hard to get a grip on it, but he couldn't prepare himself. He never knew that it could hit this hard, and he doesn't know how to fix it. They might have Phil here, but Phil hasn't come to visit him that much, either. Maybe he sees Wilbur in him.
Tubbo knows that they might not do it on purpose. He knows that he's difficult to deal with like this. He can't hold conversations, he barely can make himself, if he even can. Niki sits with him until he manages to swallow down whatever pastry she brought him this time, but it still doesn't help. She can't always be there with him, no matter how hard he tries. And he knows that she doesn't want to, either. Tubbo isn't stupid, he knows how to read people. He knows how to read the people close to him. He thought that he'd have more support, but..apparently not. Tubbo slowly opens his eyes, feeling like he has weights attached to his eyelids. He stares up at the dark ceiling, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.
"Knock knock," he feels like he should smile at the voice, but he doesn't. It's so much effort to smile, he doesn't have the energy to. It's so fucking difficult, and Tubbo wishes that it wasn't. He cranes his head instead, giving Tommy a heavy nod to acknowledge the fact that he's there. "What's up, big man? Feelin' any better?"
"No," Tubbo murmurs, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He tries his best to sit up, but gives up after he feels his muscles ache. He's barely moved once since he got to his bed, he doesn't understand why he feels so tired. Everything is heavy and draining, and he hates it so much. He's so, so tired. "I'm sorry." He mumbles, not sure what else to say. Tubbo doesn't know if he needs to apologise or not, but he might as well. He doesn't want to make Tommy angry, that's the last thing he wants to do. He doesn't have the energy to argue back with his friend.
Tommy gives him a half-hearted shrug, and Tubbo can tell that his apology isn't accepted. "It's whatever," Tommy mumbles, looking to the side. "I thought you'd want to come and take a walk with me, yeah?" His face lights up, his eyes gently sparkling in the dim lighting of the room. "Figured that it'd be good to get you out of this dusty ass room," Tommy jokes, leaning on Tubbo's door frame. "What do you say, big man? Wanna walk around with me?" Tubbo wants nothing more than to get out of his bed and talk with Tommy.
"I.." he swallows, closing his eyes again. As soon as he does that, Tubbo hears Tommy sigh, loud and disappointed. "I'm sorry, Tommy, really. I don't know.." he pauses, hanging his head. It's too much effort to keep it fully up. "I don't know why I feel like this."
"Neither do I," Tommy mutters. "Whatever, it's..it's whatever. Go back to bed," Tommy's footsteps are loud against the floor, pausing for a moment. "Maybe," Tommy starts, suddenly seething, "if you got off your fucking ass and put some work into this place, you'd feel better."
Tubbo stares at him in disbelief, his jaw hanging open. "You know what?" He feels himself shaking with silent fury. "Get the fuck out of my room," Tommy stares back at him, clearly stunned by the words. "I said," Tubbo whispers, "get the fuck out."
"Fine." And Tommy fucks off, disappearing when he slams the door shut. Tubbo leans back in his bed, tears pricking at his eyes. Out of all people, he thought that Tommy would understand.
Clearly not.
Tubbo lets out a low whine that shatters off into a sob, pulling his pillow close to his chest. He doesn't have it in him to cry, he's already so tired. He waits for the tears to come and fall, but they don't. He feels unbelievably worse than he had, squeezing his eyes shut. The war has ended. Wilbur Soot and Schlatt are dead. L'manberg has been blown to shit. His name is Tubbo. He's the President. The mantra is useless, falling on deaf ears.
The war has ended, Wilbur Soot and Schlatt are dead. His name is Tubbo. His name is Tubbo. His name is-
Fuck.
Tubbo breathes out, shuddering. The window is open, as done by Niki. She said that he needed fresh air, and if he couldn't get up and go outside himself, then she'd bring it to him. The only problem with that is that it's winter, and even if it's nearing spring, it's still cold. Tubbo hasn't seen Tommy in days, and he's both thankful and disappointed. He doesn't want to see his best friend. He doesn't want to see Tommy, not after what he said.
Why can't he understand that this isn't Tubbo's fault? He doesn't want to be like this. All he does all day is lay in bed and sulk about his life. Maybe it would have been better for everyone if he had just died in the war. If Techno had actually managed to kill him, things would have been so much better. Easier, too. If anything, Tommy would be the official President. Tubbo can't fool himself, no matter how much he wants to. He knows that Tommy is out there in L'manberg, talking to his citizens, starting to rebuild.
And Tubbo is in his room, exhausted. Left alone to his self-loathing thoughts, and he..
He misses Tommy. He misses him, no matter how much he thinks that he hates him. Tubbo doesn't know if he's ever managed to hate Tommy, but it feels like he does. But he doesn't even have the energy to hate, he's so tired, and..and..Tubbo breathes out. He won the war. Wilbur Soot and Schlatt are dead. His name is Tubbo, he is in L'manberg. He is the President of L'manberg. Tommy hates him. Tubbo hates himself. He should add that to the mantra, he thinks. His name is Tubbo, he is the President of L'manberg, and he hates himself. Those are all things that are true, so why not?
Tubbo turns his head towards the door, hearing a gentle creaking coming from behind it. He recognises the walking pattern as Quackity, and sure enough, when the door opens, there he is. "Hey, Tubbo!" Quackity grins at him. Out of everyone who he knows, Quackity has been the singular most supportive person Tubbo could have ever asked for. He thought that would have been Tommy. He was wrong. "Fuck, it's cold in here," Quackity moves to close the window, and Tubbo watches him carefully. "Do you want this open?"
"Niki," he swallows. "Niki opened it. She said I..wasn't.." Tubbo pauses, slouching his shoulders even more. He knows that Quackity won't judge him. Quackity has never judged him. "I'm sorry."
"For what, being sad?" Quackity shakes his head. "Depressed, actually. That's probably.." he pauses, shrugging. "Back when Schlatt was still around, he had some depressive periods. He was just like this."
"Why?" Tubbo asks, nearly begging. "Why?"
"It just happens," Quackity shrugs, opening the blinds. Tubbo flinches at the sudden light, sending an angry glare over to the man's direction. "You need light. Don't look at me like that," he laughs. "Come on. Seriously, you need to get some light. If you're not getting outside, it'll make you feel worse," Tubbo reluctantly nods, figuring that Quackity is right. Quackity is smarter than him, in any case. "You know," his secretary clears his throat. "I'm sorry about Tommy."
"Oh," Tubbo glances away from Quackity, feeling nothing at the name. He wishes he would feel angry, or hatred, but he doesn't. He just feels nothing. "It's.."
"Not fine," Quackity interrupts. "I'm going to talk to him about it," he sits down on Tubbo's bed, his head hanging. "You're going to be a good President, Tubbo. You will be. It isn't your fault, okay?" Tubbo wishes he could believe that. "We'll start small. Tomorrow, I'll come back and we'll get you at least out of bed. If that's all we do, that's progress. Baby steps, yeah?"
Tubbo feels himself smile a little, his heart aching. "Baby steps," he repeats. "Thank you."
"I'm your secretary," Quackity smiles back at him, standing up. "And your friend. It's what friends do. I'm gonna head out, I think Fundy wanted me to do something. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Stop blaming yourself so much, man. It isn't your fault."
Tubbo wishes he could believe that, but he nods anyways. "Thank you, Big Q." The man grins at him, mock bowing before he closes the door, his footsteps slowly fading away. He hears them suddenly halt, hears a second pair of footsteps. Tommy's. Tubbo holds his breath for a moment, listening as Tommy's footsteps get closer. They stop right outside his door, and he feels..sad. That's the only thing that manages to get through the numbness. Just..sadness. He's sad. The footsteps start up again, fading after a few seconds.
Of course Tommy wouldn't come to see him. Tubbo wishes he could be surprised.
Quackity drags him out of his bed, quite literally. He hoists Tubbo over his shoulders, and Tubbo has no choice but to comply. He lets Quackity carry him out of his house, not like he has much of a choice. The sun is nearly unbearable, but Tubbo just closes his eyes, feeling sick to his stomach. He doesn't want to protest, he doesn't want to tell Quackity to take him back inside. Everyone already knows that he's useless, but Tubbo doesn't want them to see it, too. "Quackity," Tubbo whispers, feeling clammy and shaky and so, so sick. "I don't think I can..I'm sorry, I can't.."
"That's fine," Quackity murmurs back, and then Tubbo's suddenly back in his bed, feeling worse and better at the same time. The lack of sun makes his eyes much happier, and as he settles into the blankets, he feels safer. Why? This is his home. "I talked to him," Quackity tells him, sitting at the edge of his bed. "He'll come by here soon. He didn't mean whatever he said," Quackity breathes out. "I'm sorry he said that shit, though. I don't know what he said, but it's uncalled for. You can't help it."
"It's okay," Tubbo says, even though it isn't okay. "Thank you," he murmurs, closing his eyes as he leans back in his bed. "I'm sorry that I'm.."
"Nah," Quackity interrupts. "It's fine, Tubbo, okay? Not your fault. This isn't something you can just fix. I'm gonna go get you something to eat. I'll be back in a couple of minutes, yeah?"
Tubbo gives him a weak nod, uncomfortable under the blankets. "Knock knock," Tubbo flinches when he hears the words, opening his eyes to stare at Tommy. "Listen, I-"
"I don't want to see you," Tubbo whispers. "I don't want you in my house." Tommy stares at him, his eyebrows furrowing together.
"Tubbo, listen, I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I was just.." Tommy shifts, scuffing his feet against the ground. "The last time this happened to Wilbur, he ended up going insane. And I didn't..I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get mad. I shouldn't have..but I..I was.."
"Get out," Tubbo's voice cracks. "You th- you think I want to be like this?"
"That's not what I said!" Tommy raises his voice, narrowing his eyes. "I didn't say that, Tubbo. Stop putting words in my mouth," he crosses his arms, angrily staring at him. "I..I'm sorry," Tommy whispers, and Tubbo barely manages to catch the words. "I'm fucking stupid and selfish, and I'm an idiot, and it's my fault. I'm sorry. I didn't mean.."
"You're always sorry," Tubbo whispers. "You're always sorry when you get called out."
Tommy stares at him, and Tubbo watches as a tear trails down his face. "Why are you pushing me away?" Tommy asks, his eyebrows furrowing. "Why? I'm trying to help. Why are you.." Tommy shakes his head. "I thought we were supposed to be friends."
"Why the fuck did you-"
"I'm trying to explain it to you!" Tommy shouts. "I'm trying to fucking explain, and you won't let me!" He breathes out, and Tubbo watches him carefully, highly alert to the danger that he could present. When did he start thinking of Tommy as dangerous? "I'm sorry," Tommy hollowly laughs, ducking his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I was scared, and I didn't think, and I..I never think. I'm sorry."
Tubbo is quiet for a few minutes, guilt and anger stirring in his chest.
"Okay," Tommy whispers. "Okay. I'll leave." He starts to turn, and..
"Wait," Tubbo mumbles. "Don't go. Please don't go," he whispers. "I don't know how to deal with this. I don't understand why I'm like this." Tommy turns back, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.
"You mean it?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "You want me to stay?"
"I do," Tubbo confirms. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me." He feels his heart rate start to pick up, forces himself to suck in a breath. His name is Tubbo. He is in L'manberg. Wilbur Soot and Schlatt are dead. He is the President. His name is Tubbo. Tommy is here with him. He can trust Tommy. He can trust Tommy.
Tommy nods, carefully moving to sit down in bed next to him. Tubbo slumps over onto his side, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder. "It'll be okay," Tommy tells him, his voice a soft murmur. "I promise. It always got better for Wilbur. I- I'm not Phil, but..I'll try. I'm sorry."
"So am I," Tubbo closes his eyes, listening to Tommy's breathing, listening to him in general. "So am I."
"And so, when Wilbur came back as a ghost, Phil's started calling him Ghostbur. Which I thought was stupid, but whatever. Fundy and Quackity have been yelling at Niki and Eret for giving you two different opinions on what to do, specifically Big Q." Tommy rambles on, his arm interlocked with Tubbo's as they walk. Tubbo has made an entire walk around L'manberg, and he feels..
Good. Tired, but good. It took him a month, at the very least, to even manage to walk a few metres without feeling sick and nervous and scared. But now, he's finally doing it.
"Tubbo?" Tommy asks, and Tubbo barely realises that he's stopped walking. "You need to sit down?"
"No," Tubbo smiles at his best friend, the motion taking far less energy than it used to. "No, I'm okay. I was just..thinking. About before." Tommy nods, giving him a smile.
"I'm proud of you, big man. You've done really well."
Tubbo wishes that he could ignore the guilt and doubt he feels in his chest. He knows Tommy isn't mocking him, but it feels like it. He's supposed to be the President, and he barely can even walk around his entire country. He hates it. He hates himse- Tubbo breathes. His name is Tubbo. He is the President of L'manberg. He is with Tommy, his best friend. He is going to be okay. "Thank you," Tubbo settles on those words, figuring they're the least risky. He's still nervous about messing up, he's still scared about saying the wrong thing. He doesn't know why, he never used to be scared of that before. "Do you.." he casts a look out towards the graveyard. "Could we go there?"
Tommy opens his mouth, clearly about to ask if he's positive, but he just nods instead. "Of course we can," Tommy gently guides them so they're walking towards the forest, keeping his pace even and slow. "Schlatt's buried out here. Do you want to head to the graves, or just the forest? 'Cause there's a couple trails in here, I don't know if you ever noticed them. They're really cool. They sometimes lead to little caves that haven't really been explored, and I like to wander around there, you know? It's nice." Tubbo laughs, feeling a spark of joy break through the numbness in his chest.
"Yeah?" He feels his eyes crinkle, feels his heart swell.
"Yeah." Tommy confirms, smiling back at him.
"I'd like to go see them," Tubbo murmurs. "Both of them. Mostly Schlatt," he admits. "I feel like I have to..I don't know," he shrugs. "Repent. Tell him that I'm a good President."
"You don't own that bastard anything," Tommy gently reminds him. "You owe him nothing. No one would blame you if you wanted to burn his body and piss in the ashes."
Tubbo laughs again, for the twelth time that week. Tommy is so good at that, he's so good at making him laugh. "I know. I know, don't worry. I know. I just..I want to. I'm the President, I can do what I want." Tommy tilts his head back, barking out a short series of laughs that make Tubbo's heart swell. It's nice to see Tommy genuinely happy. Tubbo knows that he put so much pressure on everyone when he suddenly stopped functioning, but now..
He's better. He's getting better. He will be better.
"Damn right you can," Tommy confirms, grinning at him. "I'll beat the shit out of anyone who disagrees with you," Tommy assures him, suddenly stopping. Tubbo blinks, barely realising that the environment has changed. Spruce and birch trees hang over his head, and he sees two graves in the middle of the graveyard, one covered in flowers. The other is bare, devoid of anything. "I think you can tell whose grave is whose." Tubbo nods, breaking free of Tommy's grasp. He takes a flower off of Wilbur's headstone, setting it down on the top of Schlatt's.
"Hi," Tubbo murmurs. "Um, I'm the President now. I think you'd be proud of what I'm doing. I'm trying my best," he lowers his voice a little more, hoping that Tommy isn't listening. He knows how much Tommy hated Schlatt, and he understands why. A part of Tubbo will always hate Schlatt, too. But another part of him admires the man. He wasn't as bad as everyone said. At least, when he was sober. "You were kind of like my older brother. When you weren't drinking all the time. I'm sorry that you..I don't know. I'm sorry, I guess. For a lot of things. I think you could have done a lot of good in the world if you hadn't tried to hurt everyone and take everything for yourself. If you come back as a ghost, um.." Tubbo swallows. "Come visit me, okay? No one deserves to be alone." He turns away from Schlatt's headstone, smiling weakly at Tommy.
"Wanna go home?" Tommy asks, even though he obviously knows the answer.
"Yeah," Tubbo confirms. "Thank you. I'm sorry, um..about.."
"Don't," Tommy shakes his head, linking their arms once more. "I'm sorry. I was a bitch, a real dickhead. I should have never said those things."
"You shouldn't have," Tubbo agrees. "But I know why you did. I forgive you."
When he looks at Tommy's face, it looks like a weight has been dropped from his shoulders. He gives Tubbo a grin, one of those huge, genuine ones, and Tubbo returns a smile. "You're gonna be such a good President, Tubbo. You already are." Tubbo can't help the warm feeling that blossoms in his chest at Tommy's praises. He's heard them all before, from Wilbur, from Schlatt, from Quackity, but they never really meant anything. Hearing them from his best friend, though..
Those words mean the entire world to him.
He never fully gets over it. But then again, depression isn't something you can always get over, right?
Tubbo has his fair share of bad days. He makes leaps of progress, to the point in which he can leave his room for an entire day and be perfectly fine.
Schlatt's birthday rolls around, and he ends up crashing. He's sent right back to the end of the war, memories resurfacing. Tommy and Quackity are with him for the majority of that month, both sharing widely different opinions of Schlatt. Tubbo talks to Quackity more, whereas he just enjoys Tommy's presence, thankful that his best friend is willing to sit with him. Quackity is the only one who will really understand why he still talks to Schlatt, why he still puts flowers on his grave. They might hate him, but Tubbo thinks that there's always going to be a part of them that still cares about Schlatt. He can't pinpoint why, and he's nearly certain that Quackity can't, either.
Slowly but surely, he gains his progress back. Whether it be him taking a singular step out of his room and immediately going back in, or him walking around the entirety of L'manberg. Of New L'manberg. He gets better, he gains his energy and motivation back. Sometimes he crashes so hard that he turns to the thoughts that lurk in the back of his mind, but he always, always comes back. No matter how bad the day, Tubbo always manages to come back from it.
He doesn't think he'd be able to do that without Tommy. No, he knows he wouldn't be able to. There's no way he could do any of this on his own, and he's so, so unbelievably thankful for everyone who has stuck by his side.
Tubbo talks with Wilbur and Phil, he reluctantly lets Techno back into New L'maberg, though so many restrictions are put in place for him. Tubbo knows what it's like to be alone, even if it's his own fault. Tubbo would never condemn anyone to that fate, even someone he's supposed to hate.
So now, as he stares out at his country, he smiles. Tommy is right by his side, rambling on and on about how Fundy nearly drowned Eret for making fun of his ears, and Tubbo has never felt better.
His life isn't perfect. His life will never be perfect.
But so long as he has his best friend by his side, Tubbo can do anything.