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Tommy sat quietly on the bench, his limbs trembling, whether from the gentle breeze or the feeling of being watched he did not know. He had seen each and everyone of their looks; their disbelief, anger, joy, all merged into one face.
Tubbo’s face.
From the beginning it had been them. Them against the world. Tubbo had always been next to Tommy, his gentle warmth at Tommy’s back giving him strength to face the world. To face Dream.
When had it all fallen apart?
Tommy had never needed anyone else because he had Tubbo. Even when Wilbur went mad, he had his best friend. They were children thrown into a war far bigger than either of them, made to be pawns for players that neither of them could face alone. But together they had worked their way up. It was Tubbo who spied on Schlatt. It was Tommy who brought Technoblade to the revolution. It was Tommy who had held Schlatt at gunpoint. It was Tubbo who was President over L’manberg when it was at its peak. It was them who had fought against Dream first. It was them who had defeated Dream.
And yet, Tubbo had looked through him, not at him. Tubbo had never come. Never tried to find Tommy in prison. No, he had gone and gotten married!
Tommy had seen how Tubbo looked at Ranboo, how he clung close to the taller boy's side. Even behind that look of shock and disbelief, he had seen those quiet flames of loyalty towards the half-enderman. When had it all fallen apart? His exile? No. It had been long before that. It was when Tubbo became president. It has exposed the differences between them. Differences that had always been hidden below the surface. Their differences had been concealed by their chaotic nature and their never ending mischief. But the differences between them were fundamental.
Tommy was willing to sacrifice L’manberg for Tubbo.
Tubbo was willing to sacrifice Tommy for L’manberg.
Upon reflection, Tommy realized that the disks themselves had never been his most prized possession. He didn’t truly care about them. No. He cared about them because they symbolized his and Tubbo’s friendship.
How they had fought the first disk war against Dream alone and won. How they had suffered and fought together for L’manberg. The hours that the two of them had spent sat on the bench looking at the sun and the moon. He had lost himself, had focused on the disks more than the person that they were ultimately connected to. The person who gave them value.
Dream had known. Of course he had known. He had used the disks as an excuse to split them apart, to make sure they each saw the others flaws and attachments. Had Tubbo become so attached to L’manberg because it reminded him of his friendship with Tommy? Had L’manberg been to Tubbo what the disks had been to him?
Tommy had lost him. Tommy had lost him the second he had been announced president. Because the harsh truth was that they had saved Tommy’s disks but they had never saved Tubbo’s L’manberg.
Tommy laughed coldly to the silent night. It was his fault. After they ‘won’ against Dream, Tommy had withdrawn from Tubbo, refusing to be involved in Snowchester. In the end, he was the one who had cut himself off from Tubbo. So Tubbo had turned to the one other person he could.
Ranboo.
I’m not even sure Tubbo’s my friend.
Footsteps made him turn around. Tommy whipped around, his muscles tense, ready to run, to fight. He would not go back to that darkness, that bottomless abyss with Wilbur’s voice freezing his limbs and burning his mind. But it was only Ranboo standing tall on the Prime Path, blocking out much of the view behind him; the view towards L’manberg. Tommy could make out Tubbo who was kneeling behind his platonic husband. The wind was blowing towards the pair so Tommy could only see Tubbo’s lips moving as if he was speaking to someone.
Tommy rose slowly, noticing the tension in Ranboo’s shoulders. But what made Tommy slow his movements was not that Ranboo’s tension was created by fear or anger, no Tommy knew what that looked like. The tension in Ranboo was caused by protectiveness. Fierce protectiveness. The same that had seized Tommy when he had stood in front of Tubbo in Dream’s secret underground base as Dream demanded Tubbo’s life.
But what could Ranboo be protecting? It wasn’t Tubbo, no that tension had not been there earlier that day.
Ranboo turned to Tubbo, his body still blocking what Tubbo was kneeling next to. He knelt down holding out a hand to whoever it was, speaking in hushed words that Tommy couldn’t hear. Tubbo nodded encouragingly at whatever it was. His breath was stolen from his lungs as Ranboo slowly turned, still on his knees to face Tommy again. In the tall boy’s arms was a tiny pigman child, who clung to Ranboo’s tall torso, his tiny head buried in his chest.
Tommy couldn’t breath. The child was so small, timid and innocent. He had been like that once. Innocent. But innocence is always the first casualty in war. Especially in Tommy’s family.
Tommy watched warily as Ranboo whispered words into the boy's ear. But the child turned towards him. The child’s eyes were wide, they gleamed in the moonlight, wide with childhood curiosity. A gentle push from Ranboo had the child stumbling towards him. Tommy’s legs buckled and he slid to the floor. It took the child fifteen seconds to stumble into his arms. It took everything in him to not flinch.
He looked down at the small child in his arms, the child would barely have come up to his waist if he stood up. But he couldn’t stop his own trembling. It was so small and innocent; free from all the terrors and nightmares in this world.
How could someone who was as broken as him hold something so pure and untainted?
The small child nuzzled into his chest. He lifted gaze to Ranboo who had approached him and stood only two meters from Tommy, seemingly prepared to pull the child away if he saw the need to. Tubbo stood just behind Ranboo, his eyes flicking between Tommy and the small pigman erratically.
The old Tommy was never at a loss for words. But this Tommy, the Tommy who had been through weeks of isolation with Dream and had gone through death itself. This Tommy was a lot quieter. Far more broken than he had ever thought possible.
“His name is Michael.” Ranboo said quietly. Tommy nodded looking down at Michael the young pigman was now sitting in his lap, his head shoved into Tommy’s neck. Tommy gently maneuvered his limbs to sit crossed legged on the grass next to the prime path. Michael had fallen asleep, his head resting between his next and right shoulder. "Tubbo wanted you to meet him. You are his uncle." Tommy looked up quickly, then winced worried he had woken the child up. But Michael’s breath remained slow and steady.
“He’s your son?” Tommy asked.
“You missed a lot, Big man.” Tubbo said quietly. It was the first true thing he had spoken to Tommy in months.
Tommy held Micheal tighter. But he couldn’t meet Ranboo’s gaze. “You shouldn’t let me hold him. I’m too broken to be fixed.” Tubbo flinched but Ranboo now sat down in front of Tommy, his eyes held sadness but the boy deliberately seemed to keep pity out of his eyes. Tommy was thankful for that.
“Why not.? We both trust you Tommy.”
Tommy shook his head. But his limbs were still, he couldn’t move without risking waking up the small boy.
“You should know Ranboo. Some things break, they can be repaired. But some things shatter into pieces. When people shatter there is no way to put them back together again.”
Ranboo made no move to take Micheal back. “As long as you have all the pieces shattered, pieces can still be fixed. It takes time. Yes, it takes a hell of a lot of time. But if you trust people around you and give yourself time, you can pull yourself back together. Only you can decide what breaks you and what doesn’t.”
Tommy paused looking up towards the pair. Tubbo now sat beside him and Tommy passed Michael to his adoptive father. The boy smiled at him as he gently rocked the young pigman. Ranboo came to sit on Tommy’s other side. “May I touch you?” He asked. Tommy paused, freezing up as cold dread seeped into his bones but one look at Tubbo, whose eyes were drooping as he lent back against the tree with Micheal in his lap and arms, had him nodding dazedly.
Ranboo slowly and gently wrapped his arms around Tommy. “You are not alone. Tubbo will never leave you. Never think for a second Tommy that I am more important to him than you are.”
And as the four of them sat quietly under the moon, Tommy for the first time in months let himself relax. Tonight, with Micheal here, Ranboo and Tubbo wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
Tommy allowed a small, secret smile onto his face. A small part of him felt a connection to Ranboo, not the warm comfort of Tubbo who met his fire with fire of his own, instead Ranboo was water, calming he. Ranboo didn’t extinguish Tommy’s flames, rather checked them, keeping him in control of his own fire. Perhaps now Tommy wouldn't have to shoulder a hero's burden alone. Ranboo would share it with him, in a way that Tubbo never could.
He wanted that part of him that trusted Ranboo to grow, and burn brightly, to rekindle the loud passion that usually gripped him. Because Ranboo would do anything to protect Tubbo, just as Tommy would. The three of them against the world.
Tubbo wasn’t his best friend.
Tubbo was his brother.