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Tubbo dragged himself through the debris, his legs screaming and head throbbing. But it didn’t matter that a painful ringing thrummed in his ears, or that his lungs ached and stung from billowing smoke, or that blood was dripping in hot waves from a wound in his forehead. People were screaming, crying, rejoicing when they found their friends alive. They didn’t matter right now, as the teen swept his head about the quieting battlefield.
Tubbo couldn’t find Tommy.
He stumbled through the ruin, searching through nooks and crannies, scanning groups clustered together, tending to their wounds. He heard somebody, Fundy maybe, shout that he had found Dream. Dead. Tubbo didn’t care, not until he could find Tommy. They’d won. They could go back to their bench, and listen to the discs again while watching the sunset. Craning his head, Tubbo peered through a particularly dense cloud of smog, spotting a shimmer of blonde against grey and brown. Stumbling forwards, the teen pushed his screeching body towards the figure. It had to be him.
And it was.
Tommy was slumped against a boulder, legs splayed out on the turf before him haphazardly. His broken chestplate, dull and battered netherite, lay discarded in a crater nearby. One arm lay over his lap, while the other hand trailed away into the blood-stained grass. A broken bow lay just shy of his limp fingers, scarlet smeared across his pale skin. Tommy’s iconic two-tone shirt was only one colour. It stuck to his chest as he breathed. Arrow shafts protruded from the once-white fabric, pale feathers fluttering in the hot breeze. When his blue eyes found Tubbo, they were full of tears.
Tubbo fought his way towards Tommy, his wobbly legs carrying him from fire-scarred earth to frail grass. Tommy shifted his head to keep eye contact, but was unable to move anything else. Both of the disks lay in the grass at Tommy’s feet. At some point, he had lost one of his shoes.
“T-Tommy, hold on. Hold on, okay?” Tubbo blubbered, words grating against his smoke-burnt throat. He hovered his trembling hands over the arrow shafts, but was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of them. He didn’t know where to start. There was one in his shoulder, and one between his ribs, and another in his stomach, and another in-
“Toby.” Tommy croaked, jolting Tubbo’s attention to the blonde’s face. His voice sounded wet, and when he managed a weak smile, his teeth were red.
Tubbo broke. His body shook, battered armour rattling as he rushed to cradle his best friend. Tommy leaned into his chest, working arm twitching upwards to grope at Tubbo’s shirt. Trying to hold him. Comfort him. Comfort himself. Tubbo clutched the blonde with desperation, trying his hardest not to jostle the arrows and hurt his battered friend.
“Y-Y-You just gotta hold out for a minute. Niki will know what to do.” Tubbo insisted, attempting to force the words out between broken sobs. He raised his head for a moment, screaming desperately into the smoke for help. Clear tracks trailed underneath his wide eyes, wiping away the grime that had caked onto his face during the battle.
“I got… the d-discs.” Tommy murmured, hitching painfully over the last word. His head was propped against Tubbo’s shoulder, angled so that he could look at his best friend. “I got them… Dre-eam can’t hurt you… anymore...” Tubbo stopped his desperate wails for aid, staring down into Tommy’s hazy blue eyes in despair.
Tommy swallowed thickly, watching Tubbo’s stricken face. The older began blubbering assurances, his arms wrapping gently about Tom’s upper body. He stroked Tommy’s matted blonde locks with one hand absently, ignoring the blood smearing against his armour and seeping into his tattered clothes.
“Pl… please… I’m s-sorry.” Tommy murmured, breath shuddering between the words. Blood bubbled at the edges of his lips.
“Stop, stop. Y-You’re forgiven. It’s okay, just rest. It’ll be okay.” Tubbo stuttered, wrapping his whole body about Tommy’s limp form.
He didn’t leave his side, even after Tommy’s eyes grew unfocused, his fist falling from Tubbo’s shirt.