Chapter Text
"I know that you miss him," Wilbur smiles. "I don't know why you got rid of him, but I know that you miss him. So, I..I brought you a gift! It's a compass!" He hands Tubbo the compass, watching as it glows a soft purple colour. "It always points to Tommy, no matter what! So, wherever you are, you can always find him!" Wilbur beams, bouncing on his heels a little. "Do you like it? I gave him the same one, too! But it points to you instead of him! He's your Tommy, right?"
Tubbo is silent for a long time, and Wilbur is nervous that he messed up. "He is," Tubbo finally whispers. "He's my Tommy."
Tubbo stares down at the compass, watching as the red hand flicks to the left. Tommy must be moving again. He keeps walking, shivering in the night breeze. He abandoned his coat back at his house, opting to come here without it. He doesn't want to get caught, though he doubts anyone would question him. Fundy and Quackity are mad at him. They're unbelievably angry with him, and Tubbo is unbelievably angry with himself. He didn't sleep at all for the first week that he exiled Tommy. He knows that he can't just take it back. He can't. Tommy is never going to forgive him for this, and Tubbo understands.
He's convinced that he hates himself more than Tommy could ever hate him. He adjusts his weight on his feet, careful to not accidentally step on any dry leaves or twigs. He's been here, in Logstedshire, every single night. He leaves as soon as the sun starts to set, following the pathway he's worn out in the ground. Tommy set up a new bench, with a new jukebox. Every single night, he sits down on the bench and stares out at the ocean. Every single night, Tubbo stays close enough to hear the music and Tommy's voice, but not close enough to be seen. He can't risk that, he can't risk Tommy seeing him.
Tubbo smiles when he hears Mellohi playing nearby, breathing out a sigh of relief. Last time that he came here, Tommy wasn't at the bench. He was wandering around, following the compass that Wilbur had given him. Tubbo was so close to getting caught then, and he was terrified. He felt nothing but fear, and that's not fair. He doesn't get to be afraid when he knows that Tommy is. Tommy has more of a reason to be scared than Tubbo does. It's Tubbo's fault that he's scared, after all. He peers past the trees, staring at another figure on the bench. Wilbur.
Wilbur visits him sometimes. Mostly in the middle of the night, when he's traveling back to New L'manberg. Wilbur doesn't know that Tubbo's been coming out here every single night, and he intends on keeping it like that. Tubbo leans against a tree, staring out at the bench. Tommy is sat there, his head resting gently on his knees. He looks less tired than he normally does, and Tubbo's thankful for that. Tommy's eyes are slightly glazed over, a touch unfocused as he stares out at the ocean. Tubbo does the same, watching the waves crash onto the beach, disappearing before coming back even stronger.
"I miss him," Tommy murmurs, his voice nearly too low for Tubbo to catch the words. But he does, and they sting as they always do. "I can't believe he.." Tommy shakes his head, and Tubbo watches as Wilbur rubs a comforting hand on his back. "I thought he was being serious when he said that he wasn't going to exile me. Why would he lie about that?" Tubbo doesn't know. He doesn't know why he lied, he doesn't know. "I think he hates me."
Wilbur looks over at him, and Tubbo's eyes go huge. He shakes his head furiously, hoping that Wilbur understands. The ghost blinks, genuine confusion shining in his eyes.
"I don't think he hates you," Wilbur murmurs. "I think he misses you."
"He exiled me, Will," Tommy bitterly laughs. "How could he miss me if he's the reason I'm gone?"
"I just have a feeling," Wilbur shrugs. "You should follow your compass. Go visit him."
"I'm not allowed to." Tubbo opens his mouth to say something, anything, feeling his heart ache in his chest. But he doesn't, opting to stay silent.
"Just trust me, Tommy. Please?" Tommy slouches, and Tubbo can see him cradling the compass in his hand. Tubbo grips his a little tighter, running his fingers over the hands of it. "He's your Tubbo. I know you trust him." Tommy sits a little straighter.
"You've said that to me before."
"Was I right?"
Tubbo catches a ghost of a smile on Tommy's face. "You were."
"Well," Wilbur smiles, jerking his head to the side. Tubbo understands what he wants. What he's trying to get Tubbo to do. "I'm probably right this time then, right? And you're just exiled from New L'manberg, right? No one ever said anything about anywhere else." Tommy laughs, and Tubbo feels his heart melt in his chest. It's the first time he's heard that laugh in so, so long. He doesn't deserve to hear it and he knows it.
"I'm still pretty sure Dream would shoot me on sight," Tommy sighs. "I don't..I might," he murmurs. "Maybe I'll go follow my compass."
"Good!" Wilbur beams, staring at Tubbo with an intensity Tubbo didn't know he had. Tubbo shakes his head. He can't. Tommy can't know that he's here, he can't. "You're his Tommy. Of course he'll let you come back."
Tommy smiles, turning to look at him. Tubbo watches as his face scrunches up in confusion, and..oh. Tubbo practically gives himself whiplash as he whirls to be completely hidden behind the tree, pressing himself up against it. "What are you looking at?" Tommy asks. "Wilbur?"
"What? Oh, nothing," Wilbur laughs. "Sorry, I was just..staring off."
Tubbo breathes out, ducking his head. He squeezes the compass in his hand a little tighter, wishing that things weren't so complicated. He listens to Wilbur and Tommy ramble on and on about everything, though it's mostly Wilbur doing the talking. Tommy used to be so talkative. It's his fault, Tubbo thinks, it's his fault that he isn't anymore. He listens until Mellohi stops playing, he listens until Wilbur drags Tommy off to their house. He stands up, cradling his compass close to his chest.
Tubbo starts to walk, watching as the arrow in the compass spins around, pointing behind him.
"I know," Tubbo murmurs. "I know he's there. I know." He has to go. He has to, Tubbo knows that. He can't stay. He wants to stay so badly, but he can't. He can't. So he walks back to New L'manberg, dragging his feet the entire time. Part of him wishes that Tommy would have seen him. Part of him wishes that Wilbur would have said something. It's too late. It's always been too late.
He makes it back to New L'manberg before the sun even starts to rise.
At least, Tubbo thinks, he'll go back tomorrow.
He always goes back.