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It has been a few days since Schlatt was elected president. The walls were gone now, the wind breezing through the land freely. The sun was out, the clouds drifting slowly through the bright blue sky. Tubbo was standing in front of the stage where the election results had been announced. His shoulders were heavy with the burden of a political war, his eyes dull and glassy. There wasn’t anyone around. Everyone was busy, though Tubbo had no idea where Schlatt himself was. “Probably drinking in some ditch again,” he thought bitterly and turned around. His suit jacket shuffled ungracefully.
He started walking. No real destination, just whatever helped him get away. Tubbo never looked at the ground, only looking straight ahead, not thinking about anything in particular and everything at the same time. His legs started to ache after some time and he stopped, finally paying attention to his surroundings.
He found himself in front of Pogtopia. He didn’t dare enter. The gray hillside walls were taunting him, unmoving. Unforgiving, almost. And suddenly, it felt like he didn’t belong. His skin crawled with the memory of Schlatt’s firm grip on his shoulder, cold fear setting deep in his gut. Tubbo didn’t feel like himself.
He felt lost.
Who has he become? What was his next goal? Not Wilbur’s, not Tommy’s. His own.
“I don’t know,” Tubbo whispered, the wind carrying the sounds away.
No one was there to tell him, either.
<>
The preparations for the festival were going well. Every day, Tubbo would wake up, get dressed, spend a few minutes mentally preparing himself to face everyone, and go be the secretary of the state. The days blurred into one, an exhausting routine of trying to stay afloat. The area in front of the stage was slowly getting more and more colorful.
But not any more lively. Quackity was buried in papers and trying to keep up the cabinet’s reputation. He said something about starting a business the other day, although Tubbo was too busy zoning out to remember it. Niki was quiet these days, more so than usual. She was keeping to herself, only occasionally inviting Tubbo to hang out or visit her bakery. Schlatt was nowhere to be found most times, and when he was, he was drunk. Tubbo didn’t really want to know what Schlatt did in his spare time, anyway.
<>
Tubbo was sitting at the edge of a cliff. The sun was setting. The early night breeze got under his jacket and made shivers run up and down his arms. It was quiet save for the faraway sound of water and the rustle of leaves. Tubbo felt like he should have been at peace, but he wasn’t. His mind was racing with all the responsibilities he was putting off, painfully aware of every second he wasn’t doing his job. It felt antagonizing.
So he closed himself off. He tensed and sat up straighter as if he was being scrutinized by someone. His hands were trembling, barely visible. His eyes shined in the moonlight with unshed tears and unspoken fears. The night, it seemed, was his only true companion. Tubbo stood up and started walking slowly towards his house. He didn’t want the moment to end. He wanted to be just a teenager for a little longer.
<>
More often than not these days, Tubbo felt empty of all emotions. He didn’t care for the scenery or the music, all he wanted was to make it to tomorrow. On good days, the guilt was merely a whisper in the back of his mind. On others, it was all he could think about. The screams and the fear echoed in his head, looping, time after time. Sometimes he couldn’t breathe or hear or move, but no one was around to help him, so he dealt with it himself. He would cry until he could breathe again and until he could hear the deafening silence that was everywhere in Manberg. He would stand up on shaky legs and use his jacket sleeves to wipe the tears. He would sniffle quietly for the entire day, but no one would be around to hear it.
One time, it happened when he was in Pogtopia. Wilbur raised his voice when Tubbo told him about Schlatt’s recent plans for a festival, and Tubbo felt the ground disappear from under his feet. His vision turned white and blurry, static running through his ears. His breath felt hot on his lips, his clothes too stiff and restricting. The stone walls were closing in on him, leaving no space to breathe freely. His head spun but he straightened his back and pressed his lips in a thin line. His entire body was shaking, but he was standing straight with his head hanging, waiting for Wilbur to tell him to do something. Suddenly, it was all too quiet. He heard muffled footsteps and felt a presence in front of him. He didn’t raise his head. A hand gripped his shoulder and Tubbo broke. He fell down to the ground, crawling back as quickly as possible from whoever approached him. The touch burnt and set his nerves aflame. It hurt.
There were noises and colors around him, but he couldn’t make out a single one. All he could hear was his rapid breathing and his heartbeat. Someone approached him again, slower this time. They were moving carefully, almost as if Tubbo would break if they dared to touch him. Tubbo was focusing on leveling his breath. The person stayed there. They stayed until Tubbo could look up and not shut his eyes in fear.
Tommy was sitting on the cold ground in front of him, holding a mug of water. He was visibly uncomfortable, but determined nevertheless. His eyes lit up when Tubbo looked at him, and a small smile formed on his lips. He held the mug out to Tubbo who accepted it with weak fingers. Tubbo’s breathing was shallow and quick, but his vision cleared up and he could see Wilbur lingering worriedly behind Tommy. Tubbo took the mug from Tommy and took a tentative sip. He put the mug down and tried to breathe in deeply, but his breaths were coming out quick and irregular. Tommy raised his hand and leaned into him, silently asking for permission. Tubbo nodded, and then there was a pair of thin but steady arms around him. Tommy was trembling slightly. Tubbo hugged Tommy back and closed his eyes. Tommy felt like home. A wild, loud, explosive but welcoming all the same home. He felt Tommy shift and bury his face in Tubbo’s grown out hair. They sat like that for a few minutes until Tubbo could breathe normally again. Tommy was reluctant to let Tubbo go. He only did so when Tubbo told him three times that yes, he was okay and no, he wasn’t panicking anymore.
Wilbur walked up slowly. He was chewing his bottom lip, worry evident in his eyes. He crouched in front of Tubbo and looked him in the eyes.
“Tubbo, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice like I did. I’m just really stressed, I hope you understand,” he said quietly.
“It’s okay, boss man. I understand,” Tubbo replied with an attempt for a smile.
And he did. But every time he was around Wilbur since then there was a hint of fear in his mind. He always brushed it off, but it never went away.
It always seemed to linger.
<>
It was the day of the festival. The sun was out, the clouds drifting slowly through the bright blue sky. Tubbo was standing in front of the stage where he would give a speech later today. He was surrounded by colorful decorations and flowers. It was empty.
Tubbo took a deep breath and decided to go for a walk. His steps were heavy with anxiety. His hair was getting long - he’d have to cut it soon. He took some time walking around Manberg, taking in all the buildings and nature. The path he took wasn’t new, but it felt unfamiliar. After about an hour he came back to the stage. He had about two hours before he had to meet Schlatt and Quackity for the festival and he wanted to spend them all to himself. It didn’t take him long to decide what to do.
He went to a forest clearing not far from Pogtopia. It was risky, he knew, but he didn’t care. The silence and the tension in Manberg were suffocating him. He needed an escape, if only for a few hours.
He sat down under a tree and looked up. The tree provided a shade from the hot sun, but it was still warm. Tubbo took his jacket off and put it next to him. It looked out of place. He turned away to be met with the sight of a wild rabbit. It was staring right at him and so he stared back. Slowly, it inched closer and closer until it was an arm’s length away from Tubbo. Tubbo didn’t move, holding his breath as he watched the animal. The rabbit turned its head as it jumped right in front of him. Tubbo slowly rummaged through his pockets and came out empty. Disappointed, the rabbit looked at him for a few seconds and quickly disappeared between the bushes.
Tubbo smiled to himself. This was nice. It was quiet, but not Manberg quiet. His thoughts calmed down enough for him to breathe freely. He felt at peace. His hair was blowing in the breeze, his arms and legs ached with days of extensive labor, his eyes threatened to close, but he felt… good. Better than he has in a while. He felt light.
Maybe it would be okay.
<>
It was not okay.
Tubbo was boxed in bright yellow walls with a crossbow pointed at his face. There were shouts coming from below the stage, but he could not make out what people were saying. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. His legs were shaking and his hands were covered in cold sweat. He was panicking.
The man in front of him was frowning. He wasn’t shaking in the slightest even though he had said minutes prior how stressed he was. Tubbo felt a little jealous, but most of all he was scared. There was an angry shout from somewhere right outside the box and Technoblade turned to him. Tubbo could barely make out what he said next:
“Tubbo, I’m sorry.”
He fired the rockets and Tubbo felt the pigment burn his skin. He heard screams from outside the box, but he couldn’t understand who was screaming or why. Tubbo felt his skin catch on fire and melt, he smelled burnt flesh and burnt fabric. His mind was numb. He screamed in agony as sparks flew through him and fizzled out on the ground. He felt his throat become raw and scratchy, but he still screamed, trying to ease the pain. He felt himself fall to the ground as a large spark landed near his heart. He felt his entire body light up with pain.
And then it was all over.
He felt cold. Where was he?
He made a run for it. He ran across the festival, the buildings, the people. He grabbed a random sword someone dropped and looked behind him. No one was following him. It didn’t make him any calmer.
He ran until he couldn’t. He stumbled over his legs, panting. He smacked branches out of his face and ducked to run under the bigger ones. He ran through a small stream, getting his suit and legs wet, but he didn’t care. He had to get away. His mind was on fire. He was scared.
He reached Pogtopia. He jumped two stairs at a time on his way down. It was silent. The cold underground air was a stark contrast to the heat that burned Tubbo’s skin not even an hour prior. Tubbo slid down a wall and breathed out. He felt tired.
A few minutes passed and he heard footsteps. They were rushed, frantic and irregular. Tommy.
“Are you alright?” he asked as soon as he came into view. “Technoblade killed you!”
“Wilbur said he wasn’t gonna hurt me,” Tubbo replied, avoiding the question.
Tommy took a step closer to him, his eyes hard.
“They fucked up for the last time. They killed you!” his voice was quiet, but he was seething with anger.
“I mean, to be fair, Technoblade killed a sizable portion of people…” he trailed off as he stood up. “Tommy, I think this is out of your control.”
“Tubbo, we’ve gotta go.”
Tommy looked at him. He was wearing no armor and his shirt was covered in blood, most of it not his own. But his eyes were alight with a certain determination only he could have, and so Tubbo decided he’d follow Tommy to the end of the world.
<>
The fight between Tommy and Techno barely registered for Tubbo. He didn’t know if Tommy was fighting for himself, for Tubbo, or for Pogtopia, but he supported him anyway. The fight was as bloody as it was dirty. Techno tried to hold himself back, but it was evident Tommy was getting him riled up. When Tommy eventually lost, Tubbo was at his side in a blink. He helped Tommy get up and he tended to his injuries while neglecting his own. Tubbo calmed Tommy down and helped him eat. Tommy was angry at first, but after Tubbo finished bandaging him, he looked more guilty than anything.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Tubbo interrupted him. “I know, Tommy. It’s okay.”
<>
It has been a few days since Tubbo died. The ravine was more lively than ever, people joining the revolution and providing help. Tommy still looked guilty. Wilbur was sleeping less. It was… well, it definitely was. Tubbo couldn’t quite figure out his emotions these days. Everything became mush in his head. But it was okay, because he had Tommy and Wilbur and Niki and others by his side, and they’d take it all back.
He could have a home again.