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Tubbo stared at the buildings just peeking above the obsidian walls surrounding L'Manburg.
They cast an impending gloom across the country, acting as a grim reminder that in a few hours, a decision that held the future of every citizen's life in its hand was to be made. He circled around the border, resting his eyes on everything that had been built during his presidency. The ice-cream shop, the market (which stayed a bit empty), a chess club, the beautiful houses on stilts.
The Prime Path that wound itself around the land, touching what felt like every inch, corner, and cranny of the world, sang its tunes in the form of quiet creaks. He'd always loved the oak wood. It was reassuring, telling him that no matter how far he'd gotten, he'll always find his way back home.
And then the walls.
They seemed to be a figment of the imagination if Tubbo stared at them too long, the purplish hue seducing him, baiting him in closer until he realized that he had duties to attend to. That there were actually people depending on him, and that he wasn't allowed to be care-free anymore. That he was just caged in his own life like the citizens of L'Manburg were.
The sun started to rise. He'll have to admit it, sleeping only four hours before making a bargain with Dream is not the best idea. But speaking to the netherite-wearing man was never a good thing, right?
"Tubbo?"
Fundy's voice jarred him from his thoughts.
"Good morning," his voice was depressingly monotone, missing its usual lilt of cheeriness.
"Dream's already arrived. He's standing near the entrance," the shape-shifter was in his human form, two little fox ears hiding under orange hair being any indication that this man was a fox. He'd said that being human was better for negotiations.
"The meeting isn't for another forty minutes," Tubbo sank down to the grass on the edge of the wooden path. "Gather Quackity. Leave me be for a bit, yeah?"
Fundy nodded, looking back in pity before turning and heading inside the borders.
People did that often, now. Little wary glances as he passed them in the market, soft whispers to their friends while he shopped. Some even went far enough to stop him in his tracks, speaking to him about how much they valued his presidency, to which he'd always smile and nod.
"You're going to get mud on your fancy suit if you sit there longer."
Tommy came and sat down next to Tubbo, leaning back until he was lying under the rising sun.
"Who's looking?"
The blond snorted, "No one, I guess."
The air between them was still thick. Their last argument in front of everyone was fresh, the internal wounds still stinging as he thought about it. It'd always been the two of them. Tommy and Tubbo, friends until the end.
Was this the end?
"I don't want to exile you, Tommy."
His friend let out a defeated sigh, turning his head to look up at Tubbo, who was still sitting upright. He picked at the grass, stretching the blades up until they popped out of the ground, spinning them around in his fingers until they eventually fell apart.
"Is that a lie?"
He raised an eyebrow, "Why would I lie to you?"
Blue eyes pierced at him, calculating him like they did when he doubted someone. "The city is more important to you than I am."
"The city is important to everyone," it was a weak excuse. He cursed himself for being inconsiderate.
"I sacrificed so much for it, and the minute I fuck up once," Tommy's voice was softer now, dropping the 'Big Man' facade. He sighed, the sound deep and melancholy, "I understand that Dream is this all-powerful figure. Did you know they call him a young-god?"
"Who? The citizens?"
Tommy nodded slightly, "Yeah. They're all scared of him."
"Everyone's scared of Dream. Wilbur is— Was," he cringed at the correction. He was still getting used to the whole concept of Ghostbur, "The cabinet, farmers, the villagers. Me."
"If Techno helps us—"
"Stop it," Tubbo finally gave in, collapsing onto the ground next to Tommy. They sat there, under the sky, listening to the quiet chatter of the animals, the water flowing at Party Island, the soft hum of a working city. "There's no way we can defeat him. Not in this state, not after what happened just barely a few months ago."
"I don't want to lose you, Tubbo." Tommy grabbed Tubbo's wrist, forcing him to make eye contact, "I don't want to be alone, left to die somewhere in the wilderness."
Tubbo watched as a single tear rolled down his best friend's face. Something broke in him, his own sadness cascaded down his face, "You think I want this? Having to chose between my best friend and an entire country of people? Do you think that's something I want?"
"I don't know what you want," he said it like it was a curse, as if he were confessing something terrible. "I chose Wilbur to be president for a reason, Tubbo."
"I don't want to hear it, Tommy—"
"I chose Wilbur to be president because I knew that if it were you, if it were you standing up in that podium, giving speeches to everyone... I knew that it would come between us," he took a breath letting go of his grip on Tubbo. "And it has. I don't know who you are, anymore. I don't think..."
"What? What don't you think, Tommy?" His voice was desperate, too much emotion that he wished he didn't have. "That I'm a good president? That I don't deserve anything? What don't you think?"
"I don't think I'll be seeing you again for a long time after this."
Silence.
The two of them were still on the ground, except this time Tubbo felt like he was sinking into it. The grass that he'd plucked was enacting its revenge, tendrils of dirt rising up from below and wrapping themselves around him. They were pulling him down, suffocating him with their fury. Rocks were filling his nose, ears, and mouth, silencing him from screaming for help.
From the outside, one would see two best friends, resting on the ground after a long day of messing around. Two children spending time together. That's what they were, right? Not war veterans, not presidents, not exiles, they were kids.
"I'm sorry, Tommy."
The boat ride to wherever Dream was dumping them might've been the most degrading thing he'd ever experienced.
The salty water of the ocean made his eyes sting, his fingers had started to prune from being wet for so long, and Wil— Ghostbur wouldn't shut up about being excited about their vacation.
Dream left them in the middle of a grassy plains area, white mask glinting against the rays of sun as he turned and left, offering his disingenuous apologies. His dead brother got right to work, collecting 'blue,' and chopping down trees as Tommy fell to his knees.
He wasn't surprised. As much as he wanted to be, deep down he knew in his heart that Tubbo would exile him. Ever since the probation, his friend hadn't looked at him the same, hadn't laughed at his jokes as hard as he used to, hadn't smiled every time he saw him.
And it hurt.
It fucking hurt.
His best friend, his partner in crime, his right-hand man, was gone. It was all gone. He exiled him. Banished him from the very country they built together, that he sacrificed everything for. He hadn't even met his eyes when Dream pushed him into the boat.
Was it all a trick? A waste of time? Did he put his life into the wrong person's hands?
His body chilled as Ghostbur's presence washed over him. "You're turning as red as your shirt, Tommy."
"Sorry," he got up from his nest of self-pity. "Just got a bit tired, y'know?"
"I don't remember how being tired feels," his brother's eyes were distant nowadays. Tommy missed the charisma that used to dance in them, the way they lit up when he looked at what he'd built. The way they used to shine when Tommy did something good for once.
"Yeah?" He chopped down a tree as Ghostbur planted seeds into what would be a farm.
"Describe it to me."
"It feels like..." he faltered for a minute, searching for words to explain a feeling. "It feels like that space of time after the sun goes down on a cloudy day. When you spent all your energy waiting for something magical to happen, like stars coming out at night, but being left with a dark overcast instead."
"That doesn't seem like a happy thing," his lips pursed. "I'm glad I don't feel tired.
"I wish I didn't feel tired, too," Tommy sighed.
The first day after the exile, Tubbo felt like a failure.
He'd failed the one person who had put their entire trust on him, the one person who'd been there since the beginning. Tommy had built this city from the ground up, he'd poured his blood, sweat, and tears into it. And in a snap of his fingers, Tubbo had ripped it away from him.
On the second day, however, he saw the walls shorten. He saw his people finally breathe. There was a long line in front of the ice-cream shop today, and Fundy had reverted back into his fox form. Quackity, Karl, and Sapnap sat conversing at Party Island, the three of them smiling fondly at each other. Nikki and Puffy made flower crowns together in the grass, giggling over who-know's-what. The citizens of the Badlands had come to shop at the market, traveling together in a tight-knit group. Purpled emerged from his skull-cave, laughing with Punz and Ponk as they messed around.
He tried to ignore the fact that he was alone.
Five whole days later, the walls were completely gone. The country was back to its former glory. He attended to his presidential duties. Tubbo had even been able to converse with Ranboo, who he'd come to love the company of.
Things started to become normal again.
His father and Technoblade had visited today, six days after his exile.
It felt like a sick prank, a family reunion with his brother who'd betrayed him, a father who seemed much older than he really was, and his other, dead brother.
They'd brought a few supplies, bone meal for the crops, stacks of diamonds, wood, and even an iron sword. Techno had taken off his armor, pink hair flowing over his shoulders as he spoke with Ghostbur. His dad toured around their campsite, fixing a few things up as he walked. Tommy stayed quiet, watching as everyone spoke. He didn't have the energy to pretend like everything was alright.
They'd left once the sun had started to set, leaving him with a few words of advice and a hug. Ghostbur commented on almost being done with his work, to which Tommy had raised an eyebrow. Ghostbur collected more 'blue' waving farewell as he disappeared into the 'After,' a place where he went once the moon stars started to twinkle.
Tommy spent the after-hours mining and crafting, trying to upgrade his things to salvage the minuscule part of his dignity that he had left. Singing to himself softly, he fell into a quiet rhythm of work.
Mine
Smelt
Mine
Smelt
Craft
Mine
Smelt
Mine
Smelt
Craft
He didn't even notice he had a visitor until he felt a finger on his shoulder.
Unsheathing his sword, he crouched down into a read-position, ready to pounce and attack whoever had snuck behind him.
"Calm down, Tommy. It's just me!"
Sam's voice echoed in the cave, giving him a sense of familiarity that he missed deeply.
"Fucking Christ, Sam! You scared the shit out of me," he put away his weapon, sighing in relief.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the man removed his helmet, creeper-mask still on as he sat down on one of the stones of the chamber. "You couldn't hear me when I spoke."
Tommy rolled his eyes, trying to hide the embarrassment of being caught singing, "Whatever. Why are you here? I thought no one knew where I was."
"They don't, but Ghostbur does. I asked him for coords via communicator the other day." The man frowned, "Which reminds me, I tried contacting you but you didn't answer."
"Dream exploded all my things when he threw us out here," he resumed his mining. "I didn't even know Ghostbur had still his communicator."
Sam hummed in understanding, "I'm sorry about that. Well, I just came here with some supplies that I gathered for you. And just so you know, the doors to my home are always welcome to you. We're far from L'Manburg, you can hide out with us if you need to."
The masked man set down a box full of netherite.
"Holy shit! Thank you, Sam! I really do appreciate it, this is amazing!" He held the ingots in his hand, reveling in the buzz of power it gave him.
"It's the least I could do, Tommy." Sam pat him on the back, "I've got to run, I hope I see you soon."
"Goodbye."
Maybe there was still hope.
Maybe.
Sam never showed up after that.
The snow had fallen and melted on L'Manburg the holidays coming and going swiftly. In the blink of an eye, two whole years had passed since the exile. It was springtime, and bees had just started to come around again. Despite his wishes to go out and see them, Tubbo was stuck in his office, slaving over legal papers and other monstrosities the country needed fixing.
The door to his office opened, and a cold voice came from the entrance.
"I want to talk to you about Tommy."
Tubbo was sat at his desk, working on a few decrees and other documents regarding the factions of L'Manburg. A painful pang rang out in his chest. He hadn't thought about his best friend in a long time.
"Good morning, Dream."
The man in green disregarded the pleasantry, pulling a chair for himself across from Tubbo. "I think you should go visit him today. Just to see how he's doing."
"Why have you suddenly become worried about him? You were the one who wanted him gone."
The masked-man shrugged, "All I said was that he couldn't come here, doesn't mean that you lot aren't allowed to see him. I thought I'd mailed everyone the coordinates, last year. Have they not been sent out?"
Tubbo winced, "They have. I just uh— I don't think anyone's felt the need to... pay him a visit."
Truth be told, Tubbo had almost gone to the place that held Tommy. Back in January, when the new year had turned its face. He'd set out on his boat, backpack on, bearing gifts. Halfway there, he chickened out and turned back around. He was lucky no one knew what happened.
"Hmm. Must be why he was downcast the other day."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he was the one who asked me to send everyone the coordinates to where he lived," Dream smiled from under his mask. "But I guess you've all forgotten about him, already. I feel bad for him. He's completely alone, y'know. Techno and Philza can only visit so often."
He frowned, "What happened to Ghostbur? I thought he'd gone with him?"
"You haven't heard?"
"No, I haven't."
Dream sighed uncomfortably, "Mr. President, Ghostbur left this world six months ago."
His heart sunk to his stomach, blood rushing away from his face, "What the hell? I thought he couldn't die!"
"Ghosts only form when there's unfinished business. Wilbur's unfinished business was getting his family back together, reconciling things with people he'd wronged. Apparently, he's done that now, and there was no more need for him."
Guilt started to grow in his body like the blooming flowers outside. Had Ghostbur really disappeared? And poor Tommy, who had to deal with it on his own, alone from all his friends. How had Tubbo let this happen? How had he let it get so bad?
Dream let out a low whistle, "He asked actually, for me to bring you there. I guess you don't want to go. I'll be out of your hair now."
Tubbo watched as Dream left his office, armor clinking as he stepped away.
"Wait!"
The white mask peeked from behind the doorway, "Yes?"
"Meet me at the docks in an hour."
Something was burning.
Or was it? He couldn't tell.
The inside of Tommy's mind had been a constant choir of fire, like a blaze was trapped in his head, setting flames to his brain. His thoughts were nothing but a pile of ashes.
His father and Techno weren't able to visit today. Something about preparing the house for winter.
That scared him. He didn't want to be alone. When he was alone bad things happened. He thought scary things. He didn't want to be scared.
The sun was bright but the wind was cold. Wilbur liked these days.
"They're mischievous, like me. I like mischief, it cleans my soul."
Did he need his soul cleansed? How does one tell? How does one tell when it all becomes too much? When the fire in your head burns too bright, when it starts to scorch the edges of your head, when it turns your vision orange and red? Is that when one needs their soul cleansed?
He left the circle of logs that Wilbur build a mere two years ago. It was not as grand as it was when it was built. The once cleanly stripped logs bore scratches reading the word 'liar.'
"Promise me, Tubbo."
"Promise what?"
"That it'll be me and you till the end."
"I promise."
It rang in his head like church bells.
I promise.
Liar.
I promise.
Liar.
I promise.
Liar.
I promise.
Liar.
He screamed. It echoed across the plains, escaping into wherever sound went after it left your mouth. Why won't the fire go away? Why won't it extinguish?
A cow mooed somewhere in the distance.
He was hungry.
Tommy didn't kill cows anymore, not after Henry. He stuck to his farm. Pigs and sheep had become scarce around him, which meant he obtained a very little amount of protein. It made him thinner over time, making his already lanky body look gangly. But it was okay. No one would see him, anyway.
During the summer, when he got bored, he used to put on his netherite armor and sit in the sun, counting the minutes it took for him to become unbearably sweaty under the thick material. Techno told him to stop it after catching him once, but Tommy didn't listen. At least it kept him busy.
Today it was cold, however. His armor didn't block off the chill, so he opted out of wearing the heavy metal. Hugging his ragged leather tunic closer to his frame, he tended to the potatoes growing near the water bank. The leaves had started to change color, which meant he'd need to start trading with the villagers for more food again. Last winter, before Wilbur disappeared, he had to beg Dream and his goons to bring him food from L'Manburg. It was humiliating, and he didn't want it to happen again.
He sat like this for a few hours. Feet in the freezing water, teeth chattering as he watched the dolphins swim. Around midday, his eyes caught onto a boat on the water. At first, he thought it was just Dream coming to torment him again, but as he looked closer he saw another figure.
A figure that looked suspiciously similar to the one who set fire in his head.
Floods of flashbacks assaulted his mind, flickering in and out of his head like a dying candle. His mind started to think of scary things again, and it became harder to breathe.
Remember what dad said: stay calm.
"Stay calm," he muttered to himself under his breath like a mantra. "Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, stay calm."
The little boat stopped in front of the docks he, Wilbur, and Techno built last summer. Dream stepped off first, holding out his hand for Tubbo. He stayed rooted to his spot, fearing what would happen if he lost control.
"Tommy?" Dream's voice was cheery, but he knew it was fake. The man in green was never happy when he talked to him.
He swallowed the spit that was forming in his mouth, knuckles turning white as his hands turned into fists. "Hello, Dream."
"How are you doing, today?" He walked closer to him, leaving Tubbo to fumble with the bags on his own.
"Good," his voice was clipped and short.
"I've brought you a present, today."
He raised an eyebrow, "What is it?"
Dream pushed Tubbo forward, forcing a little umph out of the man's mouth, "I brought you Tubbo!"
Tommy stared at the two of them, eyes wavering back-and-forth between the two of them, "This is supposed to be a present?"
The masked man's smile wavered as Tubbo looked at Tommy in confusion, "I thought you liked Tubbo? He was your best friend!"
"I don't like liars, Dream." Tommy stood up from his spot, stepping back a bit as his enemies inched closer. "I don't like liars, I don't like liars, I don't like liars!"
"Tommy?"
His head snapped to the right. Tubbo's hand was outstretched, shaking as he handed him a chest.
"What?"
"Tommy, it's me. It's me, your best friend. Tubbo in a box, remember? Tubbox?"
He did remember. He remembered all of it. The bench, the sunset, the disks, the wars, the bees, he remembered. He had memories coated in sunshine, dipped in happiness, memories that plastered a smile on his face. Flashbacks that he welcomed with open arms in his dreams, the ones that filled him with hope.
And then the fallout. He remembers the regret, the fights, the angry words. The cold looks, the wary pauses in conversation. The warnings, he remembers the walls, the frustration. He remembers the empty look when Tubbo spoke those words, the ones that sent chills down his spine.
Goodbye, Tommy.
"You're not Tubbo. You stopped being Tubbo the moment you valued Dream over me. Tubbo, I remember. I remember it all, but I know for a fact that you don't."
"Tommy, I'm sorry—" The other man's voice was soft, on the verge of breaking.
"Did you know I waited? I waited every day, every single day, hoping that you'd come," Tommy's voice was rising. "I collected gifts, I wrote funny memories, I planned activities. I collected bees, Tubbo. Bees! And I waited, and waited, and waited," he was screaming now. Tubbo flinched as Tommy jabbed a finger at him. "And you didn't fucking come! You forgot about me! And you have the nerve, to show your face after everything, and ask if I remember? Really?"
"Tommy I—"
Tommy chuckled darkly, running a hand through his hair, "You know what? I don't blame you. Because no one, no one showed up. Not one person. I thought that maybe Ranboo, or Nikki, or Fundy, or Quackity, or Sam, or anyone, would come. But they didn't. Because no one cares. No one fucking cares about me. You don't, and we sure as hell know Dream doesn't, and Karl doesn't, Eret doesn't," he'd started rambling, but he couldn't stop. "George, Sapnap, Puffy, Punz, Purpled, they don't care! No one cares about poor little TommyInnit!"
"I do care, Tommy! I care!"
"You don't! Stop lying to me! Why won't you stop lying?"
His initial thought after seeing Tommy for the first time was about how different he looked.
The blond's face was gaunt, missing its usual glow. The rest of his body looked skeletal, as if he'd wither away after one blow to the gut. Tommy had obviously lost weight, but his stomach didn't seem to be the only thing that empty.
There was no light in his blue eyes.
They used to shine like the sky, almost like he gained his energy from it. Maybe he did. Maybe it was constantly overcast in the plains, and he had started to wilt like a flower without sun.
When Tommy yelled at him, it was nothing like two years ago. There was real hatred in his voice this time, coating his words with a thick layer of anger. It was disgusting. He hated it.
"No one fucking cares about me. You don't, and we sure as hell know Dream doesn't, and Karl doesn't, Eret doesn't, George, Sapnap, Puffy, Punz, Purpled, they don't care! No one cares about poor little TommyInnit!"
"I do care, Tommy! I care!" He hated himself for letting this happen. For allowing the person who trusted him most to feel this way, to feel so broken. He did care, but it scared him because he didn't care enough.
"You don't! Stop lying to me! Why won't you stop lying?"
An arrow through the heart, a stop in time.
A liar, that's what he was. He was a stone-faced, cold-hearted liar. He wasn't Schlatt. No, he was worse than Schlatt. The former president wished he could be as cruel as Tubbo, as heartless as him. Schlatt didn't have the guts to cause something like this to someone. But he did. Tubbo had the guts to throw someone into insanity, to keep them alone like this.
"That's all you do," Tommy had collapsed to the ground, face looking wild. "You promised, Tubbo! You promised that it was going to be you and me forever! You and me till the end! I gave you that disk, I gave it to you because I trusted you! And you've probably given it away, haven't you?"
Dream had threatened to siege war on L'Manburg if he hadn't turned in the disks. He was given no choice.
"It was to protect L'Manburg, Tommy. I had to give them to him, I had no other options," he whispered, but it echoed across the empty fields.
The air stilled. The water froze.
A ragged, torn up laugh erupted from Tommy's mouth. It didn't stop, it just kept coming, "I think it's time for you two to leave," he paused to giggle hysterically again. "I think it's time for you to go."
"Tommy, please!" Tubbo was begging, "We can fix this! We can fix this, please!"
A firm grip on his wrist sent him back in time.
They were sitting on the grass outside the obsidian walls.
I don't want to lose you, Tubbo. I don't want to be alone, left to die somewhere in the wilderness.
"Tubbo!" This time it was Dream's grasp on his wrist.
Blue eyes met the black ones of the mask. He was in the present. He was in the now. Tommy lost Tubbo. It was over. "C'mon, it's time to leave." Dream was pulling him into the boat. Tommy hadn't stopped laughing, blue eyes broken and crazed as he watched Tubbo and Dream leave.
It was his fault this had happened.
Tommy watched the boat float away. The fire burned brighter than ever.
L'Manburg was made of wood.
He remembered that the most.