Archive of Our Own

“What the fuck,” Tommy mutters. Then, louder this time, “What the fuck.”

His house is burning.

Theoretically, dirt should not burn. It makes no sense that his house is on fire. The only thing that is made of wood on the outside were the doors, which had collapsed on the ground, charred and broken. Maybe the grass could have sustained the fire for a little bit, but the fire raging over his house still burns strong, casting a heat strongly reminiscent of the Nether.

Tommy shies away from the heat, his heart sinking. His house, the only home he had left after Doomsday, the house he had since the beginning of the SMP, is drowning in flames.

He ignores the lump in his throat. He tosses his bag of valuables to the ground and collapses beside it with a huff, his back turned to his house.

If he closes his eyes, he can pretend he can’t see the dancing shadows the flames cast in the evening light. If he tucks his nose into his bandana, he can pretend that he can’t smell the flames burning whatever they touched. If he focuses on the light wind blowing against his face, he can pretend he can’t feel the heat radiating behind him, driving away the cooling evening air.

He had gotten back from a three day journey and he was tired. Wilbur’s grave was far out from L’Manberg, far out from the SMP. It was at least a half-day journey to get there. To his real grave, that is. The… shrine, right by the crater of L’Manberg, wasn’t a proper grave. It carried objects meant to represent Wilbur, when most of them were only reminiscent of Ghostbur and of the Wilbur that begged Philza to put a sword through his chest.

He doesn’t know how he feels about Wilbur. He was his brother, his general, and his friend, but he was also the one who destroyed his nation. Who was consumed by paranoia, lashing out at anyone and everyone. Wilbur, who left him. Who went out with a sword to his stomach by the father he claimed to love without even a goodbye.

So he sat there at Wilbur’s grave for an hour. He talked about anything he found interesting, and hesitantly picked out a few chords on Wilbur’s guitar. He shared a sandwich with him, staring out at the flower field below them. He stayed until Philza showed up.

The man had tried to talk to him, but Tommy had left before he could even speak. He glared at the man as he brushed past, barely able to see him standing on the grassy cliffside. Instead, Tommy saw him atop an obsidian grid with TNT in hand, lighthearted laughter ringing in his ears.

Suffice to say, it was good he didn't try to talk to Tommy.

He then went and lost himself in mining, channeling his feelings into anger as he swung his pickaxe against stone. He ate when he started to feel hungry, drank when he was thirsty, and kept mining until his feet hurt from how long he worked. Before he knew it, two days had passed.

And now, he’s here. He’s tired and everything aches, from his overworked muscles to the dampened feelings bubbling in his chest. He’s tired and the sun is starting to set and he would already be inside sleeping if he could.

Instead, his house is on fire.

Tommy can pretend it’s not, but he can’t pretend forever.

So, he gets to his feet with a heavy sigh. He pulls out his water bucket, steps towards the burning building, and gets to work.

Bucket by bucket, Tommy extinguishes the flames. It’s a slow process. A bucket of water lasts only about four tosses before the heat evaporates all the water. Then he has to hike down to the river at the bottom of the cliff, fill up his bucket, trudge back up, and go back to fire-fighting. He uses some of the iron he got from mining to make more buckets so he won’t have to make as many trips. 

Finally, by the time the sun disappears below the horizon, the fire is put out. In the dying daylight, he sees what he had suspected.

His house is absolutely covered in netherrack. The largest chunks are the size of his fist, and the smallest bits cover his house like fine dust. The brown dirt is almost impossible to distinguish from the red netherrack. Someone had ground down the stone and coated his house in it, making it highly flammable.

Great. Tommy can’t just leave the netherrack there. It’s like inviting someone to come along and set his house on fire again. With a sigh, he trudges inside to grab a broom.

He takes one step inside the door and freezes.

In front of him, in the center of the room, a chest hangs from a pair of iron chains. The chains creak slightly as the chest sways in place. But it’s not the chest that scares him. What scares him is the note, pinned to the wood with a dagger. There are words scrawled on it but the only thing that matters is the sideways smiley face drawn at the end of the note.

Tommy tenses automatically, his eyes glued to the smiley face. It smiles back at him, mocking. Smug. Secretive.

Dream had been here.

His breath hitches. He tears his eyes away from the note, staring off into a random corner of the room. He can’t. Nope. Not today. He’s tired and he wants to sleep, dammit.

He strides over to a chest in the back of the room, movements stiff and eyes pointedly avoid the chest in the middle of the room. He throws the lid open and digs around the chest until he finds his broom. Ignoring the other tools strewn about on the ground from his search, he lets the lid fall shut, walks back outside, and starts sweeping.

The moon is high in the sky by the time Tommy finally gets rid of the netherrack. The dust was practically embedded in the dirt, so Tommy had to get rid of a large portion of the dirt along with the netherrack. He dumps the piles he sweeps into the river, letting the material sink to the bottom. He would have burned it but. Well. Highly flammable netherrack. The only thing he can do is soak it so it can’t be set on fire again.

He lingers on his last trip down to the river. His hike back up the cliffside is as slow as it can possibly be. When he reaches his house, he skips over the doorway, instead walking over to the bag of valuables he gathered from mining. He sifts through the bag, taking inventory. He had already done this before he left the mines, but he does it again anyways.

When he’s done counting and recounting everything that’s in the bag, from the hunks of coal to the specks of redstone dust, he stores a portion of it in his inventory to smelt. Then he takes a deep breath, turns around, and walks into the house.

Another glance at the smiley face leaves his ears ringing so he makes a beeline for the stairs that lead down to the maze of rooms and hallways that make up his house. Nope nope nope. No way in hell is dealing with that today. He scrambles down to his storage room, putting the valuables into vaguely organized chests and dumping the stuff in his inventory into unlit furnaces. He throws the bag into the corner.

He goes to sleep in the room furthest from the entrance of his house, moving his bed as far from the chest as he can. He falls asleep curled in a ball, his blankets pulled tight around him.

Tommy wakes up slowly the next morning, the knowledge of what’s waiting for him making his movements slow and footsteps heavy. He takes a deep breath and pushes his feelings aside. Fuck that. He can do this.

Despite the want to prove someone wrong-

Who? Himself? Dream? The feelings that make him feel so shitty?

-he lingers downstairs. He tends to his garden and sorts through his valuables yet again, deciding what to put in his ender chest and what to leave in the wooden chests.

When he can stall no longer, he makes his way upstairs, jaw set and shoulders squared. He marches over to the chest and tears the note off the knife. The paper crumples easily beneath his fingers.

The only thing he can really see is the smiley face. His eyes are practically glued to it as the actual words of the note swim illegibly above it. The smiley face stares back at him in return, smiling wide. Tommy shivers.

He breaks his eyes from the drawing, trying to focus on the words, but he’s continually drawn back to the smiley face. So, he tentatively moves his thumb over the drawing, hiding it, but moving slowly as if it might bite him. It doesn’t. Clearly, because it’s a stupid piece of paper. It’s just a drawing on a piece of paper. Tommy lets out a shaky sigh, a little smile forming on his face.

He turns his eyes to the words of the note and the smile drops.

Tommy, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, I think it’s about time we meet again!

I’ve picked out a place for us to meet. I’ll see you there in four day’s time. Including today. Or, well, knowing you, last night. Oh, and bring Tubbo. He also needs to be there, and if he’s not, or if you bring anyone else, I will tear every limb from your body and make you watch, helpless, as I drown everyone and everything you’ve ever loved in the deepest lava lake the Nether has to offer.

Follow the compass in the chest.

:)

Tommy’s throat closes as he stares at the note. He can almost feel the heat the fire had radiated last night. He gulps. He drops the note. His legs feel shaky, so he crouches. His thumb still covers the smiley face, but when he closes his eyes, he can still see it staring back up at him. His thoughts scatter. He falls back onto the hard, packed dirt that makes up his floor.

Dream. Dream wants to see him. Dream wants to see him and Tubbo, alone. That’s- is that good? Dream is- was- is definitely fucking not and never was his friend. He’s an asshole. He’s evil. He hurt Tommy over and over and over again.

But he wants to meet. He wants to see Tommy again. He must- he must care about him, right? Maybe…

A hand settles on Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy tenses at the same time as he leans into the touch. It’s Dream but at the same time he knows it’s not but the only time someone touches him is to hurt him. Why else would someone touch him? It’s been so long since someone gave him a friendly pat on the back or a hug. It’s kind of what happens since no one really likes him much.

Every nerve in Tommy’s body screams at him to simultaneously pull away and to keep leaning into the touch. He doesn’t want to get hurt, but he misses the simple contact of another person.

The hand, as if sensing his indecision, pulls back. Tommy doesn’t manage to bite back the whimper at the lack of contact. There’s a pause, and then the touch returns in the form of fingers that rub at his shoulder. The touch is gentle. Tommy waits for the fingers to dig in, to cause pain and bruises, but it stays gentle. Tommy’s breathing starts to even out. He realizes that whoever it is is forming patterns on his shoulder.

The tension slowly bleeds from his muscles. He focuses on the touch, following the pattern being traced on his shoulder. 

It’s a bee. Tommy can track the forming of the body and a singular strip down the middle and small, rounded wings. The person- Tubbo. It’s Tubbo. Tubbo is the one who does the bees.

Tommy realizes that Tubbo is humming. It’s not to the tune of one of his disks.

Tommy’s somewhat grateful for that. The disks have too much attached to them- yes, lots of good, but also lots of bad. Dream and Tubbo and fighting and scars and a nation gained and lost and there just so much attached to two simple disks-

The tune Tubbo hums is rather nonsensical, jumping up and down, light and cheerful but calm at the same time. Tommy relaxes the rest of the way. He opens his eyes and turns a little to meet Tubbo’s eyes. He feels raw and vulnerable, so he stretches a smile across his face. “Thanks, bitch,” he says.

Tubbo rolls his eyes, but a small, matching, genuine smile stays on his face as he continues tracing the bee on Tommy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m happy to see you too,” Tubbo says. He hesitates. “Is… everything okay?”

Tommy’s first instinct is to push back with insults and deflection. Of course everything is. Why wouldn’t it fucking be. Sure, their only home that they built from the ground up was completely destroyed two weeks ago, and Tommy has trouble falling asleep every single fucking night, and he can’t help but feel as though everyone has turend their backs on him, but yeah. Everything’s fine. Technoblade is gone and Dream’s been gone and Tommy has Tubbo back so…

Tommy’s first instinct is to completely deny being upset, but instead he takes a deep breath. Communication, yeah? He can’t quite meet Tubbo’s eyes, but he manages to tell him, “Dream, uh. Left me a note. I guess us. It- it involves you too.”

Tubbo’s smile drops, and the immediate change makes Tommy nervous. “Did he now.” His voice is cold. Tommy stills a little on instinct as he waits for Tubbo’s touch to become anything but gentle before remembering that this is Tubbo. Tubbo, not Dream.

Tommy nods in response to Tubbo’s half-question, picking up the note he realizes he dropped to the ground and shoving it at Tubbo. Tubbo takes it, his fingers absentmindedly smoothing out the wrinkles Tommy made as he reads.

When he’s done reading he sets it to the side. “That… sucks. I thought we were done with all this.” Tubbo’s voice is flat and his gaze is distant.

Tommy’s heart sinks. Tubbo doesn’t want to do this. That’s fine. It is. He deserves a break. He had held a bit of hope that Tubbo would immediately demand to accompany him, that he would push until Tommy could no longer say no, but… It’s unfair of him, really. To expect more from Tubbo, after everything they’ve been through. He can’t keep dragging Tubbo into his fights. He needs to handle them on his own.

“You are,” Tommy tells him. Tubbo stiffens, and Tommy can’t help feeling as though that was the wrong answer. But why?

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to be going alone. I’m a big man,” Tommy blusters. “I can take Dream all on my own.”

Tubbo is frowning now. “What.”

Tommy shifts uncomfortably. Tubbo looks like he’s getting mad, and Tommy doesn’t know what he’s saying wrong. So he keeps talking, the words falling out of his mouth without much thought as he babbles, trying to explain. “Yeah. I’m gonna take him down all on my own. What, you think I can’t do it? I’ll have you know, I learned a thing or two while I was rooming with Techno, Dream won’t even know what hits him. I could maybe bring some TNT! Pull some ‘a that explosion shit he seems so fond of-”

“What do you mean you’re going on your own,” Tubbo interrupts. He pulls back from Tommy, who immediately misses the comfort his touch brought, but Tubbo looks very upset now. “What the fuck you can’t just decide that for me Tommy.”

“I’m perfectly capable of fighting him,” Tommy argues. “I’ve got therapy an’ shit, I’m doing loads better, my fighting skills have improved by leaps and bounds since the duel-”

“No, Tommy,” Tubbo hisses. His hands clench into fists at his sides. “You can’t just tell me I have to stay behind!” 

“You should,” Tommy tells him flatly. His fingers twitch as he resists the urge to fiddle with his sleeves. “It’s safer that way.”

“Safer?! I have been in the midst of wars. I was executed in front of everyone, I was in the midst of every battle you have been in. I am strong and a good fighter and I am capable,” Tubbo yells. “You can’t just order me to stay behind! Especially when I’m being summoned by name!”

“You should!” Tommy yells back. The fear that raised voices causes pulses insistently at the back of his mind as he resists the urge to shrink away. “You can’t just put yourself in danger like that Tubbo! Dream- Dream is like nothing you’ve fucking delt with before. I’ve dealt with him before with Wilbur and in exile and you haven’t and you can’t just- I know how to deal with him. You don’t!”

“Yeah? What about Schlatt? Or the execution? Or any of the wars we’ve been in? Stop acting like I haven’t been in similar situations before! I have experience, I know what I’m doing, and I’m capable. You can’t push me aside like this! You can’t leave me out of something that involves both of us because, oh no Tubbo, you can’t do this!”

“Tubbo-” Tommy hisses- “I’m not going to let you-”

“That’s not for you to decide! I am my own person, I am capable, and I get to decide what I can or cannot do!” Tubbo screams. His face is red and tears bead in the corners of his eyes. Whether from frustration or sadness, Tommy can’t tell.

He finches back even as his temper flares, leaving him trembling with the need to say something even though he has no words. He grits his teeth, bolting to his feet. “I’ll be back,” he chokes out as he rushes out the charred doorway.

He doesn’t go far. There’s not really many places he can go, so he ends up sitting on the bench, hidden behind the tree. His shoulders are hiked up, and he closes his eyes and tries to focus on his breathing. With each shuddering, deep breath he takes, the anger cools. Other emotions start rising to the surface, mixing in with his anger until it’s a messy, tangled ball that he doesn’t know how to even begin to decipher.

He can’t let Tubbo do this. He can’t. Tommy will not put Tubbo in danger. Dream is manipulative and unpredictable and dangerous, so much more so than anything else on this server. Tommy doesn’t want to be the reason Tubbo loses his final life. He doesn’t want to be the one to put Tubbo in danger this time, and he doesn’t want to continue to drag Tubbo into danger, not after everything he’s already been through.

Tommy sinks low on the bench, resting his chin on a knee. He feels icky. The emotions in his chest weigh him down, leaving him feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. It’s like someone has pried his ribcage open, but instead of exposing organs and blood, it exposes every little detail about him, no matter how unsettling it is for him. He hates it.

So, he stares out across the trees. The little duck-house that Puffy owns bobs in the river water below, anchored firmly in one spot.

Puffy would tell him to talk about his feelings. That he can’t avoid them forever, no matter how much he tries. Tommy tried explaining why that was such a shitty idea, because people could use it against him and no one cared and it never even fucking mattered. She had sat patiently, listening to what he said without interrupting, and only once he was well and truly done did she start talking.

Ultimately, she had told him, it was his choice on whether he wanted to deal with things or push them away. But, she said, if he wanted to heal, if he wanted to start moving on, he needed to deal with his problems. He couldn’t let things sit and fester and build until it all came tumbling out in one horrible, loud outburst.

He didn’t want to do this. He would rather yell and scream to get his point across. To push and needle and annoy whoever he was talking with so he didn’t really have to talk about his feelings. But, he wanted to be better.

With a sigh, he got up and walked back towards his house.

“Tubbo?” he called as he stepped in the doorway.

Silence, and then a sniffle. Tommy immediately felt bad. “What?” Tubbo calls back glumly.

“Where are you, big man?”

“Downstairs.”

Tommy walks down the stairs slowly, uncertainty clear in every step. He reaches the bottom and there, leaning against the wall to his right, is Tubbo. His eyes are rimmed with red and snot runs from his nose. Tubbo hastily rubs a sleeve across his face. “What do you want.”

Tommy walks over, settling cross-legged in front of him. Tubbo looks away. The tight feeling in Tommy’s chest intensifies. “I… I really don’t want you coming with me.”

Tubbo’s expression changes from wary to bitter. “Yeah. I know.”

“No, look-” Tommy cuts himself off, frustrated. Not with Tubbo, but himself. “It’s not that I think you aren’t capable and shit. You are more than able to take care of yourself. I just- fuck man. Look. It’s been a lot okay. Ever since L’Manberg got taken over by Schlatt, things have just steadily gotten shittierm and we’ve lost our home, and you’ve put up with so much bullshit. It’s just all gone downhill. And so much has happened and the worst of it is when I spent so much time with-”

He cuts himself off. “I know what bullshit Dream likes to pull. And I- I don’t want to lose you to it. To him.”

He looks away, aware of the slight heat tinging his cheeks as he quietly says, “I know you’re capable. I just really really don’t want to lose you.”

Tubbo sniffles again. “You… you really think I’m capable?”

“Hell yeah!” A small smile climbs onto Tommy’s face. “You ran a country all on your own. I didn’t want it, I bailed the fuck out of that as soon as I could.”

“But I exiled you,” Tubbbo points out, his voice small.

They both wince. “Yeah. yeah you did. But.. I think… I think it was the best decision you could have made. I- I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not still bitter about it, but it was me or L’manberg and as the president you had to take care of the place. And it’s not-”

Tommy cuts himself off. He looks away, huffing. He doesn’t need to go there.

Tubbo frowns. “It’s not what?”

Tommy studies the stone ground. His throat closes up, but he manages to mutter, “‘S not like people want me around anyways.”

“’s not true,” Tubbo answers after a moment of uncomfortable staring. “I do. I really really missed you Tommy. Exiling you was about the stupidest thing I could have done.”

“Nah. It was smart. Especially for when the green bastard is involved.”

“Still. I could’ve done something different. Tried harder. Maybe-”

“No. It was- it’s fine. What’s done is done. It’s all the green gastard’s fault anyways.”

Tubbo reluctantly lets the topic drop. “Okay.”

They sit in silence for a minute before Tommy picks up talking from where they left off. “I would really rather you not be there if you don’t want to be, Tubbo.”

“And if I want to be?” Tubbo challenges.

“Then I’m not gonna stop you big man,” Tommy sighs.

“I wanna be there,” Tubbo says firmly. “But… this is the last fight I ever wanna have. I wanna be done with fighting.”

“I do too,” Tommy says quietly, moving to sit behind him. Tubbo leans his head on Tommy’s shoulder.

“You know, there’s this place not too far from here. It’s out on an island, so it’s completely isolated from everyone else. It’s covered in snow year round, and… I think I want to build a home there. For me and whoever else wants to live in peace.”

“...Would I be welcome?” Tommy can’t quite bring himself to look at Tubbo.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Tommy smiles, one of his hands reaching up to fiddle with the bandana around his neck. “No fighting, huh. I think I would like that.”

And that’s that.

They have three days until they fight Dream. Three days that Tommy spends preparing. He immediately heads to the mines and he mines until it’s dark and he’s exhausted, and then he gets up the next day and repeats it. He doesn’t even stop to repair his tools unless they’re at the point of breaking.

At the end of day two, well into the early morning, Tommy collapses into the bed right inside the doorway, there for exactly this reason, and falls asleep before his head even hits the pillow.

He wakes up to the sound of metal on metal. He glances to his left, and there’s Tubbo, chipping the last of the runes onto the now-netherite armor. As Tubbo moves the chisel away, words of power fly off the enchanting book and binding to the engraved runes. The enchantment flickers to life with a glow, the purple that signifies otherworldly power dancing across the surface.

“Thanks, Tubs,” Tommy manages to say. His voice is rough from sleep.

Tubbo startles, dropping the armor to the ground with a loud clatter and a shout.

“What the fuck,” Tommy hisses, pulling the pillow over his ears. “Was that really necessary?”

Tubbo laughs. “Sorry, Tommy,” he says, picking the armor back up. “I didn’t realize you were awake. I, uh, yeah. Everything should be enchanted now. I woke up early and saw that you had everything to go and thought I should help out since you’ve done so much. Good thing, too, you really needed the sleep.”

“Thanks,” Tommy mumbles again. Then, “Wait, what time is it?”

“Uhhh,” Tubbo pauses. “Sometime past noon?”

Tommy bolts upright, muttering shit over and over again as he scrambles out of bed. “I slept too long I slept too long shit shit fuck me-”

“Tommy-”

“-I still need to get supplies get healing stuff I shouldn’t have fucking slept so long we’re so not prepared-”

“TOMMY!” Tubbo shouts. Tommy freezes, casting a panicked glance at Tubbo. Tubbo walks over, placing a gentle hand on Tommy’s arm before guiding him back to the bed. “It’s okay, Tommy. You worked yourself past the point of exhaustion, you needed the rest. It’s not like I’ve been idle either, you know. We’re doing fine, we’re going to be ready for this, okay?”

Tommy nods.

“Good. Now breathe.”

Tommy closes his eyes, taking deep breaths as Tubbo stands up. Tommy immediately misses Tubbo’s presence at his side, shivering as cool air fills the place he had been. Tubbo walks across the room, and Tommy opens his eyes to watch him. Tubbo opens the chest he put the armor in, rummaging around. With a triumphant noise he pulls something out. He turns around and presents Tommy with a handful of gapples.

Tommy snatches one on instinct, taking a bite out of it. “That’s- that’s amazing, Tubbo,” he breathes. “Now we just need some potions!”

Tubbo rolls his eyes as Tommy continues to eat the gapple, but he doesn’t call him out on it. “Yep!” Tubbo chirps.

Tubbo puts the gapples back in his chest and when he turns around, Tommy pulls him into a tight hug. “Seriously though,” he mutters. “Thanks. It- it really means a lot that you’re doing this with me.”

Tubbo relaxes into the hug. “You’ll have to help me build my new city to make up for this,” he says mischievously.

Tommy pulled back, spluttering, demanding that Tubbo take it back because it was his project, not Tommy’s, but deep down they both knew Tommy would help.

After a while, Tommy reluctantly heads to the door, telling Tubbo, “I’m going to go get us potions.” He pulls the Axe of Peace from his ender chest, tucking it carefully into his inventory. He doesn’t quite know why he takes it with him.

“Don’t get in trouble,” Tubbo responds. They both smile nervously, and they both know what he really means is, ‘don’t get caught.’ They both know he’s headed to Technoblade’s place. They don’t have time to gather ingredients and brew potions, even though they both have the know-how, and Technoblade is the only one who would already have them made. He’s always prepared.

Tommy makes his way carefully through the Nether. The Nether Hub is well built and it’s pathways are wide, but the further away he gets, the narrower the path gets. His eyes inevitably stray to the lava a few times, catching on the swirling, enticing glow-

He’s quick to snap his eyes back to the path.

He exits the portal and takes a deep breath, letting the tension fall from his frame. He treks across the snowy wasteland, approaching Technoblade’s cottage with as stealthily as he can, although it’s a little hard considering he sticks out like a sore thumb against all the snow. On the other hand, the snow makes it easier for him to check if Philza or Technoblade are around.

With no sign of either person, Tommy approaches the side of Technoblade’s house, pulling out a pickaxe. If his memory is correct, and if Technoblade hasn’t moved anything, the potions should be immediately inside. He mines through the wall, and indeed, in front of him is a bunch of chests stacked atop one another.

He immediately hacks a hole into the chest in front of him. He pulls out shimmering potion bottles, making sure to grip them tight so he doesn’t accidentally drop and break them. He stuffs them into his inventory, filling up all the empty slots he has available.

He’s so absorbed in his task that he doesn’t notice the crushing of snow beneath hooves or the jangling of jewelry. He doesn’t notice Technoblade until he hears a grunt. His head jerks up and he sees Technoblade staring at him, unimpressed, sword in hand. He freezes, and his heartbeat thunders in his ears as he hears the distant accusatory voice yelling at him as he tries to save his nation, his home, the only thing he has left of Wilbur- 

Tommy pulls his hand from the hole he made, shoving one last potion bottle behind his back. He grins nervously. “‘Eyyyyyyy, Technoblade, how’s it going man?”

Technoblade frowns. He steps forward, and Tommy takes a step back. “Tommy-” he starts, and Tommy bolts.

He books it as fast as he can across the tundra, adrenaline flooding his veins and the mantra don’t get caught DON’T GET CAUGHT looping through his head, drowning out any other thoughts. Snow flies up into the air behind him as he scrambles away. He can hear Technobalde close behind him and he tries to push himself to go faster but his legs don’t respond, he’s already going as fast as he can.

Technoblade’s hand closes on his arm, almost yanking it out of it’s socket as Tommy is forced to a stop.

“Give me back ‘ma potions, Tommy,” Technoblade growls. 

His ears are twitching and his tusks are bared. He is very clearly irritated and Tommy gulps hard. He tries to tug his arm from Technoblade’s grip, but it’s too tight. “Let me go,” he hisses.

“No can do. Give me ma’ potions back first, an’ then I’ll let ya go,” Technoblade responds, his grip tightening until it’s practically shattering Tommy’s bone.

“Fine fine fine!” Tommy yelps, breathing hard as pain shoots down his arm. He tears the potions from his inventory, throwing them to the ground at Technoblade’s feet. Technoblade releases his grip, picking up the potions. Tommy rubs at what is sure to be a bruise.

“Is that ev’rythin’?” Technoblade asks as he places the potions in his inventory.

Tommy nods furiously.

“Really now.” He raises his sword, pointing it at Tommy. “Drop the rest‘a it.”

Tommy wordlessly tosses more to the ground, glaring at Technoblade. Techoblade gathers the rest of the dropped potions, ears twitching with satisfaction. “Tha’ wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He says, grinning. It’s not a friendly grin, rather him baring his tusks.

“Fuck you,” Tommy bites back. He scrambles back a few feet to make sure he’s out of range of Technoblade’s sword. “Can’t I have a few? You’ve got tons that I know you’re never gonna use. And I need some, like, now.”

Technoblade sneers. “So ya can, what. Terrorize some other poor souls on th’ SMP? Stab them in th’ back like ya did me?”

Tommy stiffens, biting down the hurt that rises in his chest. In its place, anger rises, and before Tommy can stop himself, he bites out, “You know, I was going to give you your axe.” Technoblade’s eyes narrow. “I have it in my inventory right now, in fact. But you know what? You’re a bitch. You’re not getting it back.”

Technoblade starts to move towards Tommy, raising his sword. His voice is low as he rumbles, “Give tha’ back ta me, Tommy. You don’ deserve it.”

“No,” Tommy snaps. “Fuck off. If I don’t deserve it, there’s no way in hell that you do.”

“Tommy,” Technoblade growls.

Tommy meets Technoblade’s eyes, pulls out a speed potion from the pile of potions he kept hidden in his inventory, and throws it at his feet. He turns and sprints. Technoblade bellows, immediately switching to his crossbow. He can hear the creak of strings as the piglin loads it, and scrambles over the nearest hill as fast as he can. The arrow thuds into the dirt inches behind him. He doesn’t even hesitate in his sprint, making a beeline for the nether portal.

He only turns around once he’s hopped into the portal. He catches a glimpse of Technoblade barreling after him before the soft vwooop of the portal carries him to the Nether.

He immediately hops out of the portal frame and runs, but not towards the main portal so he can get to his house. He instead takes a sharp right, jogging around the side of the hill. He mines into the side of it, making a hole just big enough for him, and hides inside it. He doesn’t close it up behind him. He’s already cornered enough as is.

He hears the portal sound, and the clop of hooves and jangle of jewelry signaling Technoblade’s presence. He stands there, barely breathing, his ears fixated on the sounds Technoblade makes. He waits.

Technoblade sprints right on past him.

Tommy breathes a sigh of relief, thanking Prime that the hellscape that the Nether is makes it so impossible to find anyone or anything. He slumps to the ground, limbs shaking, struggling to catch his breath in the stifling heat of the Nether. Gingerly poking at his arm where Technoblade grabbed it, he winces. It’s definitely bruised. That’s going to make fighting Dream a hell of a lot more inconvenient.

Tommy closes his eyes, rests his head back against the netherrack, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. He stays there, eyes closed and concentrating on his breathing for who knows how long. He’s waiting until Technoblade gives up. He will not let himself be caught. It may take minutes, it may take hours, but he needs these potions.

Finally, finally, when Tommy’s head is pounding, his mouth dry, his lungs scorched from the hot Nether air, and everything covered in ash, he hears Technoblade’s jewelry clanking. He waits impatiently as he hears the sound of the portal activating, and he immediately breaks free of the hill, sprinting towards the main portal.

He stumbles out of the portal into the Overworld, and his heart sinks. The moon is already high in the sky. It feels like he wasted so much time hiding in the Nether even though he knows he needed these potions.

He approaches his house and makes a beeline for the trenches of water that hydrate his crops. He scoops some up with his bucket, dumping it over his head, and watches as water swirling with ash drips from his skin. He does it again, and then he pours mouthful after mouthful of water in his mouth, quenching his thirst and somewhat soothing the ache in his chest from his scorched lungs.

When he finally feels cooled down enough, he enters his house. Immediately upon entering, he finds Tubbo sitting there, and starts to call out to his friend before biting back his greeting. He smiles.

Tubbo, although he’s sitting upright in his chair with a book in hand, has his eyes closed. He looks as though he tried to wait up for Tommy, but he’s clearly exhausted.

Tommy plucks the book from Tubbo’s hands, setting it gently on a chest on the side of the room. He dumps his potions inside the chest they’re using to store their gear, and then he walks back over and nudges Tubbo’s shoulder.

“Wha… Tommy?” Tubbo asks, rubbing his eyes. “You-” he yawns- “you’re back.”

“Yeah big man. Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Tommy helps Tubbo to his feet, guiding him towards the stairs. There’s always an extra bed for Tubbo downstairs. “I can’t believe you were reading. All those words and shit. What was it about, redstone? Machines? Robots? You’re literally such a nerd.”

“‘M not,” Tubbo protests. “I just needed s’mthing to keep me awake so I would be up when you got back.”

“Mmm. That worked real well.” Tommy is barely able to hide his smile.

“Hey!” Tubbo shoves Tommy. It’s not super effective given how sleepy he is. “I tried m’ best.”

“I know.”

Tommy guides Tubbo into the bedroom with the extra bed and pauses. “Hey, Tubbo, where’d your bed go?”

There should be an extra bed, but there’s not. The room is bare. Tubbo stares at Tommy for a moment, gaze blank, and Tommy can see when something clicks. Tubbo grabs his hand and tugs him over to the bedroom on the other side of the hallway. The one Tommy had used after, uh, he got the note from Dream.

Inside the room, there are two beds side by side. Tubbo tugs him over to the beds, collapsing on the one nearest to him.

“Uh… what’s this?” Tommy asks.

Tubbo yawns, rubbing his eyes. “I missed you,” he says simply, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. “I missed my best friend, and if this is th’ last night we spend together, I wanna spend it with you.”

A lump grows in Tommy’s throat, but he manages to choke out, “That, uh, that sounds good. Really, really good.”

He clambers over to the other bed, mumbling little phrases here and there about how clingy Tubbo is and how he can’t believe he didn’t know how sappy he was. But, despite his claims denying any deep attachment to Tubbo, his eyes are glazed with tears.

He tucks the covers over his shoulder and shuffles so he’s facing Tubbo. Tubbo does the same.

“G’night Tubbo,” Tommy says.

“‘Night,” Tubbo mumbles back.

Tubbo falls asleep instantly, exhaustion winning out as soon as there’s nothing to stay awake for. Tommy closes his eyes, but despite his own exhaustion, finds it harder to fall asleep. His hands are itching with the need to check their supplies, to make sure everything is there and ready so they have a fighting chance tomorrow. His mind runs over all the different possibilities, reminding him of the dangers they’ll face tomorrow.

It takes a while before the thoughts start to fade away, but when they do, Tommy starts to relax as the sounds of the room start to filter in.

The last thing he remembers as he falls asleep is the gentle breathing of his best friend beside him.

Morning finds Tommy and Tubbo curled up close together. Tommy closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Today’s the day. They meet Dream in the afternoon.

He can’t help but feel woefully unprepared. Sure, he went grinding for gear. Sure, he’s attempting to put a safeguard in place. Sure, he and Tubbo are pretty good at fighting despite their age. But it’s Dream they’re fighting. The man who seems to have everything in the SMP under his control.

The more he thinks about it, the more he starts to remember. It’s Dream they’re fighting. The admin of the SMP, who has lines and lines of code at his command. Dream had shown him in exile once, telling him that only his friends get to see, and it had left Tommy dazed for days. And- and Dream was his friend, right? They were going to go fight him and the more Tommy thought about it, the larger a sense of wrongness grew. They shouldn’t be doing this-

Tubbo groans as he starts waking up, shifting around as he regains his bearings. It snaps Tommy out of his thoughts.

He realizes he’s breathing hard, so he sits up, placing his head between his knees. He takes a few deep breaths, ignoring how shaky they are. Each breath, thankfully, is steadier than the last.

It’s okay. They can do this. Tommy has Tubbo and Tubbo is his friend, and Dream is not. They’ve spent hours preparing. They’re ready for this fight.

Tommy pulls himself out of bed and wanders upstairs, his eyes trailing along the walls. He shuffles into his storage room and pulls bread out of one of the chests, munching on it as he tries to figure out what there is left to do before they meet Dream. They have all the gear they could possibly get, they have potions, they have gapples. They have an ender chest ready to go.

There’s really nothing left Tommy can do to prepare.

He finishes off his bread, quieting the growl of his stomach, but the nerves start to rise again. Taking a deep breath, he heads outside, walking over to his garden. He starts weeding, trying to take his mind off of what’s to come. Besides, the garden could use a little care anyways.

He’s halfway through weeding when he realizes that maybe, if he doesn’t come back, Connor would want the house. He throws what he’s pulled up into the composter sitting at the edge and goes back inside. He pulls out some paper and manages to find a slightly broken quill and writes a short note that says, ‘If I don’t get back the house is yours, Connoreatspants. Enjoy. -Tommy.’ He pins it to the chest Dream left him.

He still had more paper, and, hesitantly, he starts writing out more notes. He realizes he’s writing letters to the people who, even if they hate him, might care. At least a little. Right?

His letters are all short, some well consisting of a couple of well thought out paragraphs, and others consisting of fragmented sentences. Tubbo wanders over at one point, and he adds little notes of his own on some, and doodles on others. He eventually pulls out paper of his own and starts writing.

When Tommy is done with his letters, he just shoves them into a chest by the door. He empties out his inventory of everything but some planks of wood, and fills it to the brim with riches. He walks out the door, his steps purposeful as he makes his way down the path. He doesn’t tell Tubbo where he’s going. When he returns, his inventory is empty but his heart feels a little lighter. A little more hopeful, even though he knows his actions may result in nothing.

And then, finally, noon hits. It’s time to go. Tommy doesn’t bother to clean anything up. His chests are a mess and his floor is dirty and his garden is only half-weeded, but it’s okay. There’s no point in cleaning if they don’t come back, and if they do make it back, it wouldn’t be long before it gets messy again.

They gather their supplies. Tommy double checks everything, and would’ve triple checked it if Tubbo hadn’t started pulling him towards the docks. They hop into a boat, and start sailing into the vast ocean, following the shimmering compass clutched tight in Tubbo’s hand.

It’s Tubbo who sees their destination first. He gasps, eyes widening, and Tommy stops. “What?” he asks, even as he’s twisting around.

“That’s a really really big mountain,” Tubbo replies in awe. Tommy nods mutely in agreement.

The mountain, although still in the distance, is clearly gigantic. Clouds float around it two-thirds of the way up, and Tommy can barely see the trees from this distance. A waterfall flows off the side of the mountain, and there’s a faint white mist at the bottom where it crashes into the ocean. The stone that makes up the mountain juts out at random intervals, creating steep cliffs and sharp edges. It twists into the sky, towering high above the ocean.

“That’s, uh, that’s fucking massive,” Tommy breathes.

In return, he can practically hear Tubbo roll his eyes as he says, “No duh, I really couldn’t tell.”

Tommy snorts, turning back around to shove Tubbo.

They double check the compass to make sure that yes, that’s where they’re supposed to go, and Tommy starts rowing again. As they get closer, the mountain only grows, and then they reach the bottom. Tommy cranes his neck as he stares up the mountain, but it’s impossible to see how big it is. He can’t even see the top.

“We should, uh, we should start climbing it, I guess,” Tommy says. He doesn’t even know where to start, but Tubbo pulls out blocks and starts towering, so he follows suit.

The mountain is huge. Before they’re even halfway up the mountainside, they’ve already used up a stack of blocks. From there, they get smarter about their block usage, walking along as many little ledges and trails as they can find and pulling themselves up the rocks where they can, but they still use up the majority of their blocks by the time they reach the top. It makes Tommy uneasy. It’s one less thing he can use in a fight.

They scramble over the final ledge, and in front of them is a grassy hill. They glance at the compass, and it points past the hill.

“Let’s put our supplies here,” Tommy whispers, his voice lowering out of instinct. “That way, if we get hurt and we’re out, we’ve got backups here.”

Tubbo nods, scooping away some of the dirt at the base of a bush. Tommy dumps some healing potions and some bandages into the recession, and Tubbo places an ender chest right beside it. They cover it with brambles, hacking branches off of a nearby bush to further hide their stuff.

Tommy checks over their armor one last time, meets Tubbo’s eyes, and they nod. They’re as prepared as they can be.

They walk around the little hillside in front of them, and there, in the middle of the plateau, is Dream.

He sits on a loadstone, one leg carelessly draped over the other. His axe is in his hand, and with his he sharpens the blade with a whetstone. The whetstone makes a bone-chilling scrape as it passes over the netherite, making Tommy shudder. Dream’s hoodie is up, his mask is firmly in place, and he’s covered head to foot in netherite shimmering with purple enchantments.

Tommy makes sure that Tubbo is behind him.

Before he can say anything to alert Dream to their presence, Dream looks up. He tilts his head, further than any normal human can. “You’re here,” he says, pleased. Tommy shivers.

“Yeah bitch,” he replies. “Now what the fuck do you want.”

Dream, the absolute bastard, doesn’t answer. Instead he sets down an ender chest beside him, opens it, and starts rustling around.

“Answer me you dick-” Tommy starts, but he falls silent when Dream pulls out a disk. Mellohi. His disk.

“This is what you came for, isn’t it?” Dream asks innocently.

Tommy stiffens. He grips his sword tight in his hand. His palms feel clammy and he swallows hard as Dream stares him down.

Tubbo slips his hand into Tommy’s and squeezes. It eases some of the tension from Tommy’s shoulders, and he sends a quick, grateful glance to Tubbo. He takes a deep breath, and sets his shoulders.

“Hand it over,” Tommy demands with all the confidence he doesn’t have. He thinks his knees might be shaking.

Dream starts to twirl it around his finger. “No.”

“Give it here you bastard,” Tommy spits.

“Why should I?” Dream tosses it into the air. He catches it, and then he bends down and pulls out a jukebox from his ender chest. He slips the disk inside and music starts floating through the air.

That is fucking it.

Tommy glances over at Tubbo and then he charges, Tubbo following close behind him. Tubbo throws an ender pearl and appears right next to the jukebox, but Dream knocks him back with a heavy blow from his axe. As Tubbo is sent skidding back, Tommy charges in, jumping into the air. He brings his sword heaving down on Dream’s head, but Dream slides to the side and swings.

The axe blow hits Tommy right in his side. The netherite protects him, but he’s sent tumbling to the ground. His ribs hurt. Dream stands over him, raising his axe.

There’s a shout, and Tubbo tackles Dream, sending them flying. Dream’s axe flies from his hand, and Tubbo starts punching with his armor plated gloves. While Dream is occupied, Tommy heaves himself to his feet, diving for the jukebox.

Dream sees this and pearls, but Tommy manages to snatch the disk before the pearl lands. “I got it!” he shouts.

Tubbo cheers, and Dream lunges for him, pulling a sword from his inventory. Tommy yelps and scrambles backwards, tucking the disk into his inventory. He pulls out blocks and starts to tower, Dream not too far behind him.

Dream swings at Tommy, but Tommy manages to jump over the swing, placing down another block. He towers higher and higher, until the wind is whistling around him.

Tubbo pearls up, his pearl hitting the side of Tommy’s tower. He falls through the air and lands on top of Dream, knocking the admin from the tower. Dream growls as he falls towards the ground, pulling out a water bucket and placing the water below him moments before he hits the ground. He looks up, pulls out a pearl, and throws.

He lands inches below Tommy, placing a block to prevent him from falling. Before Tommy can react he knocks him from the tower, sending him tumbling towards the ground. Tommy pearls midair, and the pearl lands moments before he hits the ground, leaving him on the hillside.

Tommy scrambles down the hill to where they placed their supplies. He paws aside the branches, revealing the ender chest they placed earlier. He throws it open, tossing the disk inside, and slams the lid shut. Relief and triumph flood his veins. They did it! They got the disk back from Dream, they fucking won against the green bastard-

And then Tubbo screams.

Tommy freezes. All feelings of elation are overwhelmed with terror. He can’t see Tubbo. He can’t see Dream.

Dream calls his name.

Tommy scrambles over the hill, adrenaline making his limbs shake. Tubbo is out of sight and Dream is out of sight, Dream had sounded smug and pleased, and Tubbo’s scream had been loud, just like it was at his execution-

And there, one the other side of the hill, he finds Tubbo.

Dream is gripping his upper arm tight, and his axe is to Tubbo’s throat. Tubbo’s arm is bleeding bad, and his sword is nowhere to be found. He’s frozen stiff in Dream’s grip, unable to do anything.

Tommy scrambles forward a few steps on instinct, everything in him screaming to get Tubbo to safety, but Dream bellows, “Stop!”

Tommy freezes. Dream presses his axe closer, and Tommy’s eyes fix on the blood that starts to drip from Tubbo’s throat. Dread grips his heart tight, and his heartbeat pounds in his ears.

“Good.” Dream shuffles them a few steps forward. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I want the disk back.”

“I..” Tommy’s mind is blank. He feels paralyzed. He’s afraid to move, to say anything, afraid that no matter what he does Dream will press his axe down further. Tubbo is staring at him, wide, terrified eyes mixed with a distant gaze, while Dream looms behind him, carefree, relaxed. 

Tommy opens his mouth to respond, but nothing falls out.

“You have ‘til the count of ten,” Dream says sternly, and Tommy’s heart drops.

There is an axe to his throat. Tubbo stands there, frozen. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, making his limbs shake. He can barely feel his left arm. He can feel blood start to drip down his throat where the netherite presses into his skin.

Dream is demanding the disks in exchange for his life.

Tubbo knows what the disks mean to Tommy. They had talked, after Doomsday. About the disks and their friendship. To Tommy, the disks meant home. They meant safety. They were something he had found way back before L’Manberg. They were something he had sacrificed over and over for his country and his friends. There were so many precious memories and so much importance attached to them, and that was why, as everything started to burn around them, Tommy clung to them even tighter. He fought tooth and nail for them because soon, they became all he had left of the past. When they still had Wilbur, when they still lived in L’Manberg, when they weren’t going to war every other week.

Tommy had reassured Tubbo that no, the disks didn’t mean more than Tubbo. That Tubbo was one of the best things in his life and he would not give Tubbo up for anything, no matter what happened.

Tommy reassured Tubbo of this as they sat at the edge of L’Manberg, staring down into the crater of the place that was once their home.

Tubbo believed him, of course. Tommy was, more often than not, honest. And he was especially honest about the things that mattered to him. Tubbo reassured Tommy too, that he regretted exiling him. That Tommy was one of the most precious things to him.

But… Tubbo is also tired. He’s tired of the fighting. Tired of the constant struggle. He just wants to slip away to the snowy island he plans to build on, but with each moment, that dream becomes more and more unlikely. There’s no way it would be left in peace. This moment proves it. They were done, the wars were supposed to be over, but here they are with Dream holding an axe to Tubbo’s throat.

His head feels kinda fuzzy and he knows he’s tired, and he knows how much the disks mean to Tommy, so he softly tells him, “It’s okay.”

Tommy looks horrified. It makes Tubbo feel a little bad. He knows how much he means to Tommy, but he doesn’t know how much hope he can hold onto. Not with how everything has played out that led them to this point.

L’Manberg is gone. Tubbo has no home. Most of the citizens of L’Manberg didn’t even fight for it. Some went even as far as to destroy it further. And now Tubbo and Tommy are here, backed into a corner with no way out. Stuck between two hard decisions. Nothing seems to be going right and Tubbo is just so tired of it. It’s a bone deep exhaustion that can’t be washed away by a good night’s sleep.

And then, Dream starts counting.

There are no memories that replay in his head between each number. There’s nothing reminisced about or thought over. There’s only pure, undilated emotions.

Tubbo feels fear creep up his throat, past the apathy, past the exhaustion. It fights with the fog covering his brain. He can see Tommy’s eyes widen, the way he starts rocking on his heels the way he does whenever he’s stressed. He can see Tommy’s sword tremble, and he knows that he feels helpless.

Tommy sprints towards him and Dream, and Tubbo closes his eyes. He’s hyper aware of the blade against his throat, the blood dripping from where it rests.

Tommy must be attacking. He must be. Why else would he be running towards them? And if Tommy attacks Dream, that means that Tubbo dies.

He waits for the hit to land, but there’s only silence.

Then, he hears the thump of an object hitting the dirt. He opens his eyes to see the disk at his feet. Tommy stands in front of him, chest heaving and eyes blazing as he spits, “Here. Let Tubbo go.”

Dream hums. He shoves Tubbo to the side and picks up the disks, storing them in his inventory. Then he swings his axe over his back and pulls out a shovel, digging a hole with a few swift movements.

Tommy has inched over to where Tubbo is and has a hand on his arm when Dream swings out his axe again, putting it back to Tubbo’s throat. “Put your stuff in the hole, Tommy,” he says smugly. “Then I’ll let Tubbo go.”

Tommy freezes and Tubbo can see the color drain from his face.

“No don’t- you bastard, don’t make me do this-” Tommy stutters.

“Stuff in the hole,” Dream repeats casually. “Unless, of course, it’s worth more than Tubbo’s life. You’re always free to keep it.”

Tommy throws his armor and tools in the hole as quickly as he can. He keeps his eyes fixed on Tubbo, as if checking to see he’s okay.

“Everything, Tommy.”

Tommy opens his mouth, but Dream's hand on Tubbo’s shoulder tightens until he’s wincing in pain, doing his best to bite back any sound he might make. A whimper makes it out despite his best attempts.

Tommy hears and he stiffens. He tosses everything else in his inventory into the hole, his wide eyes still watching Tubbo closely.

“Good.” Dream lowers the axe from Tubbo’s throat. “It's your turn now Tubbo.”

Tubbo idly considers resisting but ultimately decides it isn’t worth it. He’s injured, Tommy is defenseless, and Dream could take them both down in an instant.

He throws his stuff in the hole.

Dream radiates satisfaction as he steps forward, pulling out a piece of TNT. He places it above the hole and lights it. Tubbo scrambles away from the flashing explosive, terrified of being caught in the blast. It falls down and explodes, effectively destroying all of their gear.

Tommy is still standing right next to the hole, staring blankly at the small crater beneath the ground. 

“I… It took me so long to get that,” Tommy breathes.

Dreams shrugs. “You no longer need it.”

Tommy continues to stare into the hole. His gaze unsettles Tubbo. His eyes are glazed, as if he’s seeing something else. Tubbo wants to go over and shake him, to grab his hand and hold it tight so Tommy knows he’s not alone, but he’s afraid of what Dream will do if he interrupts.

“It’s funny, too, that you tried so hard for a fake disk,” Dream adds.

“What?” Tommy whispers, horrified. He looks up at Dream, eyes wide. The admin snorts.

“You really thought I’d bring out the real disks? Are you kidding me?” Dream laughs. He leans against a nearby tree, pulling out a cloth to wipe down his axe. “No. I’m not dumb, Tommy. Not like you. I really thought you were better than that. Of course I wouldn’t bring out the real disks.”

“So we just… came all the way out here for nothing?” Tommy asks, devastated. His voice squeezes Tubbo's heart tight but there’s nothing he can say to reassure Tommy as he continues to speak, his words getting progressively louder. “We fought for nothing? We bled for nothing? We came all this way-”

Dream cuts him off, his voice ice cold. “I never said I didn’t have the disks.” Tommy freezes. “If you really want, I can show them to you. I have them stored not too far from here.”

“No,” Tommy snaps stubbornly. “I don’t-” his voice wavers. “I don’t care.”

“Oh, but you do Tommy,” Dream replies patronizingly. “This was what you came for, isn’t it? You traveled all this way just to see me, so you could get those disks. You even risked Tubbo’s life for them! What were you thinking? Don’t you think you ought to see the real thing so you can know that all of this pain meant something?”

Tubbo watches as Tommy struggles not to curl in on himself. His heart screams out, protesting and cursing Dream, but the words he wants to say get stuck in his throat.

The feeling in his chest intensifies. It’s nothing pretty. It matches the look in Tommy’s eyes; it’s all consuming, leaving only void behind.

“I don’t wanna,” Tommy says meekly. His eyes break away from the hole in the ground to look at Dream’s mask. He clears his throat, saying in a slightly stronger voice, “I really don’t want to.”

Dream puts away the cleaning cloth. He strides over to Tubbo. The blood rushes to his ears as he sees Dream approach him, and he starts to back away. Dream darts forward, knocking his feet from beneath him and putting the axe to his throat. Dream’s head twists unnaturally to the side so he can stare at Tommy. “Yes, you do,” he says flatly.

Tubbo whimpers as Tommy’s panicked gaze meets his own. He’s hyper aware of the sharp blade touching his skin. Tommy stays silent, but he’s clearly panicked. His eyes dart to the axe on Tubbo’s neck, and his hands tightly grip his shirt.

“What were you saying?” Dream asks innocently.

Tommy’s gaze snaps from the blade at Tubbo’s neck to Dream, and his eyes start to clear. “I- I do want to see them,” he declares, his voice wavering as he tries to project confidence. “Just let Tubbo go.”

Dream shrugs, releasing Tubbo. “Right this way!” he exclaims, cheer brightening his voice. “We’ll be headed for a cave at the bottom of the mountain.”

He guides them both down the mountain. Tubbo is well aware of how close he hovers next to them, watching every move they make to check for signs of deception. Tubbo tries his best to ignore it. He stumbles along the path, his mind lost to the void as he struggles against the apathy building in him.

A hand slips into his. Tubbo looks over to find Tommy gripping his hand tight. Tommy gives him a smile, wobbly but reassuring. Tubbo does his best to smile back.

They stumble down the mountainside together. The warmth of Tommy’s hands helps clear his head enough to keep him nimble on his feet. Tommy squeezes his hand every once in a while, and it helps keep Tubbo grounded. He doesn’t let go of Tommy’s hand, not even when they reach the bottom of the mountain.

Dream herds them towards an opening in the mountain about a hundred blocks away. In front of them is a platform. Tubbo can see seams along the sides of the platform, and beside it is a lever. Either this platform will retract from beneath their feet, allowing them to fall to their deaths, or it will open to reveal a way down.

“Get on,” Dream orders, standing beside the platform.

“No,” Tommy protests. “For all I know you’re gonna- you’re gonna use it to kill us somehow. Why else is this here in the middle of fucking nowhere? I know you’re out to kill us, me, and I- I’m not going to fall for it.”

“Get on,” Dream growls. He raises his axe.

Tubbo slips his hand from Tommy’s and steps onto the platform. He stares at it with morbid curiosity, wondering if it really will make them fall to their deaths. Tommy makes a startled noise, and Tubbo can feel the anxiety radiating from him as he steps onto the platform, interlocking their hands again. His grip is tight, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Don’t fucking do that, Tubbo,” he hisses, concern clear in his voice. “What if it killed you?”

Tubbo hums in response. A fuzzy feeling is starting to take over, slowly muffling his hearing and making everything around him seem… unreal. Like yes, he’s here, he’s in grave danger, but… it all just seems so far away. Like he’s not really experiencing it.

Dream hops down onto the platform with them. He pulls the lever. Tubbo can hear the click of redstone repeaters and pistons, and then the platform moves.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t open up like a door would. It does move, but it moves downward, block by block. It’s an elevator. Tubbo looks at it with muted interest. He hasn’t seen anything like this on the SMP. He wonders how exactly it was made.

The elevator climbs down a few more blocks and then the wall in front of them ends, revealing an enormous room. Tubbo’s breath catches from the sheer size of it. They’re still so high from the ground, and- is that bedrock? The room has to be at least eighty blocks tall, if not taller, and everything is lined with blackstone bricks. The room, although well lit with redstone lamps, feels dim.

They reach the bottom, and Dream steps down with barely a pause as the elevator stops moving. He stalks over to the other side of the room, casting a cold glance at the duo still standing on the elevator. “Stay there,” he snarls. Tommy, about to take a step off, freezes. Tubbo grips his hand tighter.

Dream pulls a lever, and Tubbo hears the echo of pistons working and blocks slamming from above them. He looks up. Where there used to be an opening is only more blackstone. His heart sinks.

They’re trapped in here.

Dream yanks another lever down, and more pistons sound. Blocks on the wall behind Dream pull back, and an unlit obsidian frame extends from it.

He turns back to Tommy and Tubbo. His porcelain mask smiles ominously down at them, despite the fact that he’s lower in the room than they are. He stares at them for a moment before walking over to a chest in the corner of the room. He opens it, rummages around for a few seconds, and then pulls out Tommy’s disks.

Tubbo keeps his grip tight on Tommy’s hand. He’s probably the only thing keeping Tommy from running right over to those disks. Over towards Dream. Both of them are tense, waiting for Dream to move, to speak, to do anything. Both of them have their eyes fixed on the disks.

Dream laughs. It’s nothing like how his laugh used to be, before L’Manberg. This laugh isn’t high pitched and wheezing, it’s loud and harsh. It echoes throughout the empty room, grating on Tubbo’s ears. 

“It’s funny, really,” Dream says. “How attached you are to these things.”

“Give them here bitch,” Tommy snarls.

Dream shrugs. “Sure.”

He tosses Mellohi at Tommy’s feet. Tommy immediately snatches it, pulling it close to his chest. Tubbo’s heart clenches. Tommy is holding the disk so tight, as if it might disappear at any moment.

The disks were worth more-

Tubbos closes his eyes tight. No no no, they talked about this.

Tommy takes a deep breath. He sets his jaw, and then, ever so slowly, lowers the disk from his chest. He turns slightly, still keeping an eye on Dream, takes a deep breath, and hands it to Tubbo. Tubbo takes it, staring wordlessly at Tommy. Tommy squeezes his hand briefly.

“I mean really. What’s so important?” Dream continues, spinning the disk around in his hand. “They’re hunks of plastic. Useless trinkets that have hundreds of copies spread across the SMP. They’re literally so easy to replace but you continue to stubbornly cling to them for no reason.”

“There is a reason,” Tommy replies shortly. “Not any of your fucking buisness though.”

Dream shrugs again. “Well, whatever the reason, I really must thank you. They’ve made it easier to control everything on the SMP. To control you.”

“You don’t,” Tommy snarls. “I escaped you sick fuck. I got out. I left.”

Dream looks over at Tommy, cocking his head as he lets his hand fall to the side. “And yet, you’re here, aren’t you? Jumping to do my bidding no matter how much you think you aren’t. Pathetic. Easily Influenced. Desperate for someone to acknowledge you.” His tone softens. “I help you stay out of trouble, Tommy. I give you the affection no one else will give, and in turn you help me get what I want. Because we’re friends, remember?”

Tommy stiffens, gulping loudly as he stares down at Dream. His hand trembles in Tubbo’s.

Tubbo doesn’t know everything that happened between them. Despite their talk after Doomsday, Tommy had glossed over what happened in exile. Tubbo hadn’t pushed, because he could see how hard Tommy was trembling. But saccharine sweet words falling from Dream’s lips, combined with the way Tommy looks as though it’s taking every bit of energy for him to stand in front of Dream without breaking down, puts Tubbo on edge.

He finds himself stepping in front of Tommy.

“Enough,” Tubbo mumbles. He can feel Tommy latch onto the hem of his shirt with the hand not gripping his own. “What do you want.”

Dream tosses the disk in his hands to the side, letting it clatter to the ground. “Tommy.”

Tommy flinches.

Tubbo’s eyes narrow. “You’re not talking to him you’re talking to-”

“No, Tubbo,” Dream interrupts calmly. “I want Tommy. I want my friend back. Is that too much to ask?”

“He’s not yours,” Tubbo shoots back. Tommy is pressed close against his back now. “You have no fucking right-”

“Tommy.” Dream talks over Tubbo without a care as to what he’s saying. “Why don’t you come over here? I won’t be mad. I promise. You ran away and that was very, very bad, but I’m willing to forgive you. IF, you come here. Now.”

Tubbo tightens his grip on Tommy’s hand. “Don’t you dare-”

“Don’t speak for him Tubbo,” Dream snarls. “You want to come over here, don’t you Tommy.”

Tommy is frozen stiff.

“We can have fun again,” Dream soothes. “You’ll be away from everyone who wants to hurt you. You’ll be away from the nation that abandoned you. The friends that walked away from you and left you alone. We can have fun. Just like in exile, yeah?”

Tommy doesn’t look like he’s breathing. His hand tightens painfully around Tubbo’s as he tenses. Tubbo squeezes back, trying not to wince. Tommy blinks, and his eyes focus. He looks at Tubbo. He looks at the disk Tubbo still holds loosely, and he meets Tubbo's eyes and relaxes. He takes a deep breath, stares directly at Dream, and says, “No.”

Dream freezes, and the air chills alongside him. “What did you say?”

“No. Fuck off. We’re-” Tommy gulps, forcing out his next words. “We’re not friends.”

Dream crosses his arms. “So you’d rather stay with the so-called ‘friend’ who abandoned you,” he says cooly. “I see how it is.”

“You were the one who made him exile me,” Tommy hisses back. “I’m not- I’m not stupid.”

Dreams shrugs. “And yet, he was the one who made the decision.”

Tubbo wilts. Tommy steps to his side, dropping his grip on his shirt. He keeps Tubbo’s hand in his own.

“You gave him no other choice. It was either me or everyone in L’Manberg and I am- I’m only one person, compared to the lives of everyone there. It was- it was for the best.”

“Right?” Dream’s voice softens to a coo. “Getting rid of the liability was for the best. But I'm still here for you. I don’t see you as a liability. We’re-”

“Shut up,” Tommy mumbles.

Dream pauses. The silence rings loud across the room and Tommy shuffles back. Tubbo puts himself in front of Tommy again as Dream’s grip on his axe tightens.

“Did you tell me to shut up?” Dream asks rhetorically, accusatory and disappointed. “You don’t tell me to shut up. You are the one that needs to watch your words. I thought you knew better than this by now.”

Tommy shrinks back even further. His hand trembles in Tubbo’s grip. Tubbo can hear an intake of breath as Tommy gets ready to say something, but he speaks before Tommy gets the chance. He doesn’t know what Tommy’s going to say but he doesn’t want to chance it being an apology. Tommy has nothing to apologize for.

“Shut up.”

Dream pauses again. Tubbo can feel his attention shift from Tommy to him, and he can see as Dream relaxes and leans forward. His entire posture screams confidence and aggression and Tubbo already feels so small underneath his gaze.

“Ah.” Dream’s first syllable is loaded with contempt. “The failure of a president. Well, ex-president, seeing as your nation no longer exists.

Tubbo flinches, clenching his teeth. His eyes sink to the ground. He already regrets speaking.

“You always try so hard. It’s cute. You think it’ll make something great, that it’ll make you great, when in reality all you’ll be is a footnote in the history of the SMP. The ruined president, who failed at every job given to him,” Dream sneers. He stalks forward. “You were a clumsy spy, a horrible president, and an even worse friend. I mean really, what were you thinking? That what you did would actually mean something? You’re deluded! I’ve controlled your every action, your every move, your every thought. I know what you’re going to do before you do it. You. Are. NOTHING.”

Tommy steps forward. “Don’t-”

“Don’t say that about Tubbo?” Dream mocks. “Why not? It’s all true, isn’t it? You know that. You’ve seen me in action, you uncovered the truth long before everyone else, didn’t you Tommy.” His voice softens. “That’s why I like you. That’s why you’re my friend. Because you’re smart. That’s why I want you with me.”

“I don’t-”

“You do. You just don’t know what’s good for you.” Dream’s words are meant to be inviting, but they just sound patronizing. “I do though. But I can’t have anyone else screwing that up for you. I can’t have anyone else influencing you. So it’s time to say your goodbyes.”

“Gladly,” Tommy spits, pulling himself up tall. “Bye Dream. Fuck off. There. Now open the exit and we’ll be on our way.”

Dreams laughs. “You get to say goodbye to Tubbo, Tommy. Not to me.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. He pulls Tubbo close. “No. No I’m not fuck off, open the exit right fucking now we’re leaving.”

“Oh, Tommy,” Dream sighs. “Tubbo was never meant to leave.”

Tubbo freezes from where he’s pressed against Tommy’s back. His feet feel like they’re coated in lead and he doesn’t know if he’s breathing. His head feels foggy again. Tommy is just as frozen as he is, but words continue to pour out of his mouth. They sound muffled to Tubbo’s ears.

“You can’t- I’m not going to say goodbye I’m not going to fucking do it-”

“Okay.” Dream steps forward, raising his axe. “I can just kill him now then.”

Tubbo’s ears are ringing.

Tommy shoves both of them back, throwing out his arms as if to shield Tubbo. “Wait no, please, stop, I do- I want to talk to Tubbo.”

Dream lowers his axe. “I thought so,” he says smugly. He moves over to the portal, setting his axe aside momentarily to light it. A few sparks from a flint and steel, and purple particles flicker into existence. The purple glow casts ominous shadows across the room.

Dream leans against the portal frame, picking up his axe again. It rests in his hand, ready to be used at any moment. Tubbo gulps. He feels a phantom of a cold blade brushing his throat.

Tommy turns around, their hands still interlocked. “C’mon,” he whispers. “We can still get out of here. Get you out of here alive. We just have to run, to do something, anything. Any ideas?”

He expects a response, but Tubbo’s mind is foggy. He stares around at the room, at the impossibly tall ceilings, at the blocked exits. He looks back at Tommy, but doesn’t say anything. His mind is just… blank. His chest feels heavy, exhaustion pressing in as his arm throbs. Oh. Right. There’s still blood dripping from it.

“Tubbo?” Tommy asks. He hesitantly reaches for Tubbo’s other hand, the one covered in blood and clutching the disk. Tubbo doesn’t stop him as he sets the disk on the ground.

“There’s.. Not really any way to escape,” Tubbo says slowly as Tommy takes his hand. Tommy’s grip on both of his hands tighten, and he looks horrified. He waits for Tommy to acknowledge what he said, but he doesn’t. He continues to stare at Tubbo with wide eyes, so Tubbo starts to explain. “The elevator is locked behind us. We’re defenseless. We don’t have armor, we don’t have tools, and Dream is guarding the portal. We’d never make it.”

“What are you saying,” Tommy asks, voice trembling. “You can’t just- you can’t just give up like this.”

Tubbo inexplicably finds tears welling up in his eyes, but he blinks them away. He’s tired, but… he thinks it’d be okay to die.

“It’s alright,” he tells Tommy, but it only makes Tommy’s eyes glass over with tears. “We had some laughs. We had some fun. We did some really awesome stuff. But it’s over now.” His voice cracks. “We lost. This is it. All good things must come to an end eventually, and this… this is just my coming to an end.”

“Tubbo you can’t just- we never give up Tubbo! Please,” Tommy begs, his voice growing progressively louder and more watery. “Please. We never gave up. Not when L’Manberg was blown up, not when me and Wilbur were exiled, not when Dream fucking kicked me out. We got so far just by never giving up so you- so you can’t give up now. Please, Tubbo. We can still get out of this.”

“We can’t,” Tubbo says softly. “This is it. It’s alright, Tommy. I’ve lived through a lot. I’ve lived long enough.”

“No, Tubbo, please,” Tommy whimpers. Tears spill down his face. “You can’t leave me. You can’t. Please. What am I without you?”

Tommy is completely wrecked. He clutches Tubbo’s hands tight, hanging onto him as if he’s afraid Tubbo will vanish if he lets go. He sniffles as he meets Tubbo’s eyes, and his emotions wash over Tubbo in waves. Desperation. Vulnerability. Terror. Love. Pain. It doesn't clear the fog from Tubbo’s head, but he can feel tears spill down his own face in response. He swallows hard.

“You’ll be yourself,” Tubbo answers quietly. He pulls one of his hands from Tommy’s and swipes it across his eyes.

Tommy doesn’t need Tubbo. He doesn’t define who Tommy is, not by a long shot. Tommy is brave and loud, and he can be smart when he wants to be. He’s able to inspire people with words and actions, spurring them on and filling them with confidence and determination. And maybe he’s brash, insensitive, and goes overboard with his pranks, but that’s Tommy, flaws and all. He has such a good heart, even if it’s hard to see. He’ll be okay.

“No-” Tommy chokes out, his face screwing up as tears fall faster. “Tubbo-”

Tubbo slips his other hand from Tommy’s grips and turns away. “It’s okay. We did good, yeah?”

He walks towards Dream. One step, and then another. He thinks he might be swaying, but he can’t really tell. His head is foggy and he feels as though he’s in a daze. He feels so much and yet nothing at all.

Dream stands from where he’s leaning against the portal. “Done with your goodbyes?”

Tubbo nods. His emotions are overwhelming, leaving a lump in his throat that leaves him unable to speak as he stares calmly at his death-bringer.

Dream steps forward, satisfaction clear in his voice as he says, “Goodbye Tubbo.”

He raises his axe. Tubbo closes his eyes tight, tensing as he prepares for the blow to land. He can practically feel the cold metal of the axe embedding in his skin. He grits his teeth, pushing the thought away. Don’t think. It’ll be over in a moment.

It slams into his side. He stumbles sideways, tripping over his feet and falling to the ground. Warm blood splatters on his skin. He smells copper.

But…

Nothing cut into his skin. His side hurts, yes, and his injured arm is screaming from the impact, but not from the blade of an axe.

He opens his eyes, and looks over.

Tommy stands where he stood. His arms fall to his side from where they were outstretched, swinging limply as he meets Tubbo’s eyes and smiles. He coughs. One of his hands flies to his mouth. He sways, and his hand falls away to reveal blood spilling from his mouth.

Dream pulls his axe from Tommy’s neck.

He stares at Tommy in shock. He looks down at the blood covered axe in his hands, and he lets it fall to the ground with a clatter. He stumbles back, and Tubbo can hear him mumbling no no no no.

All Tubbo can do is stare at Tommy as blood streams down his neck.

Tears, previously dried up, immediately start falling. It’s not until Tommy stumbles again, falling to his knees, that it finally sinks in.

“NO!” Tubbo screeches. The scream comes from somewhere deep in his chest, producing a guttural sound that bounces around the large, empty room. He dives forward, catching Tommy before he crashes into the ground. His legs collapse from beneath him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. He holds Tommy tight, letting him fall on top of Tubbo.

Tommy looks up at him, smiling. He coughs again, and more blood spills from his lips. Tubbo struggles upright, clutching Tommy tight. His tears drip onto Tommy’s shirt.

“Why- why did you do that Tommy, please, why- I was ready to die,” Tubbo sobs. 

Tommy grabs Tubbo’s hand, holding it tight. “We’re friends,” he manages through blood-coated lips. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t let you die.”

“But that doesn’t mean you die in my place, fuck, Tommy, please it’s not fair you were supposed to live. It was okay if I died because- because there’s not much left for me anyways, everything’s just fucking hopeless and I’ve- and I’ve had enough of life why Tommy. You aren’t supposed to die.”

Tommy’s breathing is shallow, and his voice is weak. “You aren’t either.”

Tubbo is distraught. His friend, his best friend, is lying in his lap, fighting for his next breath. His chest shudders with each rise and fall. “Please Tommy you can’t- please you can’t leave me alone. I- I just got you back, I can’t lose you again, Tommy please. I… what would I be without you?”

“Yourself.” Tommy smiles wide, clutching Tubbo’s hand tighter. He coughs. “You’ll- you’ll be okay. You’re strong.”

He’s saying what Tubbo had said, what Tubbo had thought and Tubbo- Tubbo fucking hates it. What was he thinking that’s such a shit answer, that’s literally the worst answer he could have given when Tommy was fearing for his life and Tubbo just can’t-

“Not without you,” Tubbo hisses fiercely. “You’ll be with me whether you like it or not.”

He gently unties the bandana from Tomy’s neck, fumbling with the knot because he can barely feel his arm. He lays Tommy to the ground so he can press it against his neck. It’s already covered with blood. He tears off his own bandana as well, laying it over Tommy’s. “You can’t die. You literally can’t. If you die- I swear to Prime, if you die, I am going to burn this world to the fucking ground. I’ll cover it in ashes, burn it so bad that nothing will ever grow here again- I’ll do it, I swear I will, please don’t make me do it Tommy PLEASE.”

He presses as hard as he can at the wound on Tommy’s neck. He’s afraid to put his weight on it. Tommy needs to breathe. But the blood is still flowing, staining Tommy’s shirt, Tubbo’s hands, Tubbo’s clothes, dripping onto the floor-

A bloodstained, shaking hand covers one of Tubbo’s own. Tommy’s grip is weak, but Tubbo lets him move his hand as if he were the strongest person in the world. Tommy intertwines their fingers, and Tubbo holds his hand as tight as he dares. He still keeps the bandanas on Tommy’s neck, but- there’s so much blood-

“Please, Tommy,” Tubbo whimpers, “Please don’t leave me.”

Tommy squeezes his hand. He barely feels it. He meets Tommy’s eyes. 

“Fight,” Tommy whispers. Tubbo is taken aback by the fire that blooms to life, blazing in his eyes as he stares Tubbo down. Even on the verge of death, Tommy makes it seem as though he’s ready to take on the world.

“Why,” Tubbo sobs. “You- you’re dying. There’s no way out, Dream is close, we don’t even have what we came for this entire thing was pointless-”

Tommy’s grip strengthens for a moment and Tubbo falters. “Fight,” Tommy whispers again. “Not agains’ Dream. Fight… to live. Don’… don’ let that green bastard win.”

Tubbo swallows hard, barely able to see through the tears, and he nods.

“Good. You gotta run.” Tommy smiles. His teeth are stained with blood. “Live ‘appy, yeah?”

Tubbo chokes on a sob.

The thought of living without Tommy is horrible. It leaves him with a hole in his chest. He feels empty as he realizes he’s going to- he’s going to run. To leave Tommy behind. But Tommy’s grip and the fire in his eyes span across the void rumbling in his chest, filling it with numbing warmth. Tommy’s asking this of him, and he doesn’t- he doesn’t want to let Tommy down.

He can hear Dream stomping around in a hallway off to the side. The portal is unguarded, but… Tommy lies in his arms. He’s barely breathing. Tubbo doesn’t want to leave his best friend alone. He doesn’t want his best friend to- to die- to die alone.

Tommy’s hand slips from his.

Panic flares, overwhelming Tubbo. He finds Tommy’s eyes. Tommy stares back. A whimper dies in his throat. It’s okay, Tommy- Tommy’s still breathing.

Tommy moves Tubbo’s other hand from the fabric pressed to his neck. He moves the bloody bandanas from his chest, careful to keep them clutched in his hand as he moves them aside.

There, on his chest, lies a compass with splatters of blood on it. It shimmers with blue enchantments, and the arrow on the compass points right to Tubbo.

It’s like the compass Tubbo has stored safely in his ender chest.

Tommy pulls the compass from his neck, the delicate chain having been broken by Dream’s axe. He’s not able to lift it off his chest, but he manages to move it towards Tubbo. Tubbo hesitantly grabs it, staring in disbelief. Tommy nudges the hand clutching the compass further towards Tubbo.

“Go,” he whispers. His eyes shimmer with tears but there’s a faint smile on his blood-stained face. He looks over at the portal, then at Tubbo, then back to the portal. “Go.”

Tubbo swallows. He grips the compass tight, his hands shaking. He keeps his eyes fixed on Tommy, and Tommy tries to smile wider. It’s upsetting, but it fills Tubbo with a somber reassurance. He hesitantly scoots back. Tommy doesn’t stop smiling. His chest barely moves. Tubbo stands. He finally breaks his gaze from Tommy, glances at Dream, and then he runs.

Tubbo darts through the portal. He doesn’t hear Dream react, but he knows it's only a matter of time before he follows. Purple particles swallow his vision, and when they disappear, he finds himself in an obsidian corridor. A quick glance reveals that there’s nothing behind the portal but more obsidian.

He starts sprinting down it with no hesitation. He has no time to think of another way out. There’s no time. He can’t go back, that’s where Dream is, so he has to go forward. It has to lead somewhere.

As he runs, he knots the compass chain where it broke. It takes him a few tries because his hands are shaking so badly. He slips it over his head, ignoring the blood smeared on the glass of the compass. Ignoring the blood staining his hands. The blood covering his clothes, the bloody footprints behind him-

He finds another portal at the end of the corridor. He can hear the noise of a portal, but it’s coming from the one behind him. Dream’s coming. He throws himself through the portal, uncaring of where it leads.

He finds himself in another blackstone room, and his throat closes up. Redstone lamps are scattered here too, making patterns on the floor and the walls, flooding every single corner of the room with bright light. But here, unlike the other room, towering quartz pillars support the ceiling. The room feels overly formal, and Tubbo knows he won’t be safe here either.

His gaze darts around the room. Two passageways on the left, closed. Two on the right, also closed. Levers on the opposite wall. And then there’s the wall-sized portal behind him, but it would just lead back to the hallway he came from. The hallway Dream’s approaching from.

There’s no way out.

He panics. He has nothing on him. He runs to the levers, flipping them. One of the passageways opens, and he lights up, scrambling down it.

It’s a dead end. It only leads to a room with a chest and- that’s an ender chest!

Tubbo throws open the lid. The contents of the chest gleam back at him. He has- he doesn’t have much. There’s some ender pearls, a pufferfish, a few blaze rods, a handful of emeralds, some dirt, and- there. Six diamonds.

He stuffs them into his inventory, and then goes back to digging. He shoves everything in his chest around, but he can’t find any wood. He needs wood.

Was.. was the reception desk made of wood?

He runs back out, and no, it’s not. It’s only more blackstone. Surely not. There has to be wood in here somewhere- anywhere-

His eyes catch on something brown tucked beneath the desk. He hops over the counter to reach the center of the desk and crouches. There, stuffed far back in one of the corners, is a small crafting table. It’s crafting abilities are limited, but it’s enough for him to make a weapon.

Tubbo throws two of the diamonds on the crafting table, and after a moment's hesitation, he throws down a third. He grabs the chisel from the side and immediately starts tracing the runes, ones he knows by heart, that will make a weapon onto the surface of the table. He’s done in under a minute, and he steps back, watching as the diamonds melt. The light blue liquid spirals together, and when it solidifies, a blade is left in its place.

It’s not perfect. Tubbo was rushed, so the runes were shallow and shaky, and he had no wood for a handle. The result is a slightly curved blade, longer due to the extra diamond that extends the blade to the length of a normal sword. But the blade looks sharp, and that’s enough.

He rips off his button up shirt, wrapping it around the bottom of the blade to make a makeshift handle. He takes up the place in front of the desk, his skin crawling from the cold as he stands in his white tank top. Gripping his blade tight, he fixes his eyes on the portal. Dream can’t be too far behind.

He stands there, shivering, for a minute, before he finds himself moving. He goes back to the ender chest, pushing aside so he can reach the bottom. There, tucked beneath a stack of paper, is his compass. The one that points to Tommy. The needle spins wildly, and Tubbo’s breath stutters. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath before grabbing the compass. He gently slips the chain over his neck, and the compass settles next to and slightly lower than the one Tommy gave him.

It grounds him. He can feel the weight nestled against his chest, cold metal bouncing with each step he takes.

He takes a deep breath, and then he can hear the portal activate, announcing the arrival of Dream. Tubbo cautiously walks to the end of the hallway, and steps into Dream’s line of vision.

Dream stares at him, and Tubbo shivers as he sees the splatter of blood covering his hoodie. His axe, gripped tight in his hand, is still dripping red. 

“You killed him,” Dream accuses, voice low.

“You did,” Tubbo snarls back. “Your axe.”

“Yeah? But who did he take the blow for?” Dream stalks forward. “You. You were the one that killed him. He was supposed to live- he was supposed to be mine.”

Tubbo shivers at the possessive growl.

“But you ruined it. He’s dead, all because of you.” Dream pauses, starting at Tubbo. The silence drags out. “You took his life. I guess I’ll have to settle for taking yours.”

He lunges, and Tubbo rolls to the side. The axe cleaves down, cutting deep into the blackstone where Tubbo had been standing. Dream swings the axe up and Tubbo dodges again. He swings with his makeshift blade, but the fabric acting as the handle slips and his swing misses. He dances back.

It’s not a long fight. Tubbo is running on adrenaline but his injured arm is barely able to help carry the weight of his sword, let alone swing it. Dream is mad at him, and it’s making him aggressive. Sloppy, yes, but while his swings have less precision they have more power, leaving Tubbo unable to block them for fear of his arm giving out and a hit connecting. He can dodge for now, but he’s already tired. They fought Dream earlier, and Dream healed himself up, and Dream has armor and Tubbo doesn’t. It started an unfair fight, and Tubbo’s makeshift blade can only do so much.

He manages to land a hit on Dream’s elbow, where the armor didn’t quite meet so it could allow for movement. Dream bellows in pain, and retaliates by knocking Tubbo’s feet from beneath him. He knocks Tubbo’s sword away.

Tubbo stares up at Dream, breathing hard, eyes wide as Dream plants an armor plated boot on his chest. He wheezes.

“Finally,” Dream snarls. “You’re finally down, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”

And he raises his axe above Tubbo’s legs, and swings.

Tubbo screams as the blows connect, the pain blinding him. He instinctually writhes on the ground, mind blank as the only thing he can do is try to get away from the pain. The boot on his chest presses down harder, and he hears something crack in his chest.

As more blows rain down on his legs, he’s distantly aware of a bellow of anger joining his screeches of pain.

Finally, Dream stops. Tubbo can’t think straight. He pants, doing his best to remember, to stay focused, but his mind is fuzzy from the pain. He can barely keep track of Dream standing still above him.

He hears Dream walk away, his netherite boots clanking against the blackstone beneath. Dream returns and Tubbo flinches away, afraid, but screams as the movement jostles his legs.

“Oh, shut up,” Dream huffs. 

He throws a bottle at Tubbo, and Tubbo can feel the rush of energy that can only come from potion effects. His head clears a little as a portion of the pain dissipates. It’s still blinding, but fragmented thoughts start drifting across his mind. He’s conscious enough to stare at Dream as the admin towers over him.

“You killed him,” Dream repeats. Tubbo groans, unable to protest through the pain. 

“You killed him,” Dream continues, voice full of malice, “So it’s only fair that you die just like he did.”

And he swings.

And Tubbo is thrown back into blinding pain as the axe connects with his neck.

He must have blacked out for a moment- a minute?- because when he’s aware of everything again, Dream is gone. It’s just him, lying there on the floor, bleeding out, alone.

He doesn’t want to be alone.

His chest hurts. He thinks something broke there. But he can barely feel it, because his legs pulse with pain. He looks down at them, and immediately looks away, nausea rising. They don’t- they don’t really look like legs at the moment. Dream hit them a lot and he hit hard.

It’s so hard for Tubbo to breathe. So, so hard. Some of his ribs must be broken. He knows he’s bleeding out, and he’s probably bleeding internally as well.

But there’s nothing he can do.

...does it matter that much?

Tubbo lifts a shaking hand to his chest, where the compasses lay. Dream didn’t take them. His fingers feel cold but his chest is very, very warm. His hand brushes against his chest as he grabs the compasses and comes away wet. Oh. Right. He’s bleeding. He’s bleeding bad, from his legs and from his throat.

He takes a deep breath, biting back a scream as it tears at his throat and shifts something in his chest. He clutches the compasses tight, rolls onto his belly with a scream, and starts to haul himself towards the portal with his only uninjured limb. His arm shakes with the effort.

He… he wants to be with Tommy. Tommy’s that way. Tommy’s through the portal.

He’s only a fourth of the way there when he gives up. He’s not moving fast, and his arms are shaking too much.

So instead, he curls into a ball, pulling the compasses close to his face. He stares at them, eyes tracing every line carefully. He doesn’t want to forget them. He can’t.

The compass that was Tommy’s points directly to him. He gives it a cursory glance, but looks away soon enough. He studies his compass, the one that points to Tommy.

The metal of the compass is carefully polished, worn in some places. The screen is smudged from constant touch, and the edges of the glass that covers the face of the compass are chipped. The needle inside, bright red like Tommy’s shirt, spins aimlessly. Unlike Tommy’s compass, it has nothing to point to.

Tubbo closes his eyes, and cries.

He cries and cries and cries. He cries even as he tastes the metallic tang of blood at the back of his throat. He cries until his breathing grows shallow, until he can barely take a breath. He cries until his limbs feel cold.

He cries, and it gets harder to… uh, to… to think. To remember.

And yet he still stares at the compass. He will not forget.

He feels tired. Everything aches and his chest is tight from both pain, broken ribs, and an all consuming feeling of desolation. He struggles to remember why he’s sad- the compass. The spinning compass. Tommy.

The pain is overwhelming. He can barely think.

He needs to keep his eyes fixed on the compass. It’s important.

He… he’s tired.

His eyes flutter even as he tries desperately to keep them open.

He needs to stay awake.

he needs to…

to stay…

.

.

.

.

.

Two death messages rang out across comms that day.

Tommyinnit was slain by Dream using [Nightmare] came first.

The message was unexpected, coming out of seemingly nowhere for all but one. It took people a moment to process and understand the gravity of the third and final death message. 

( Good riddance, thought the woman with pink hair. She put her pickaxe back to the earth of her underground cavern, ignoring the heartache that burned alongside unmerited anger.)

( Finally, thought the bald man with bicolored glasses as vindictive satisfaction coursed through his veins. It lingered, for a time, but with each passing hour it started to wilt, fading into an emptiness he couldn't quite name.)

(The message crippled the imitation who only carried happy memories. He crumpled to the ground outside the house in the arctic, uncaring of the snow that burned him. He wailed, tears evaporating his skin as he stared at the message, his mind breaking under the weight of memories flooding back.

The piglin that claimed the title of god approached from the nether portal. The ghost looked up, gaze broken and pained. The false god rummaged around through his inventory, pulled out Blue,

and

       the 

              ghost

                       forgot.)

(There was silence from the man with a green and white bucket hat. Silence that filled the air, the comms, and something deep inside of him that one might consider to be a soul. He stared at the message until the false god walked in. Then he looked up, away, and without so much as a tear, moved on.)

(The false god saw the message and laughed.)

(The coward, a descendant of endermen, saw the message and his eyes widened. He pulled out a book and frantically flipped through the pages, eyes scanning.

Friends, read one of his lists. And underneath, Tommyinnit.

Further in he skimmed diary entries, some memories unfamiliar, some that felt as new as if they just happened, but all undoubtedly in his own handwriting. He read and read and read, his long ears wilting more with each page he turned, until he reached the blank pages signifying the end.

He closed his book. He tucked it gently into his suit jacket. He slid ungracefully to the ground, his long limbs sprawled uncomfortably beneath him.

And there, in front of him, was an allium flower.

He reached out, gently brushed a claw against it, and cried.)

It wasn’t long before the second death message joined the first.

Tubbo_ was slain by Dream using [Nightmare].

This message, although second, carried just as much weight as the first.

(Why, thought the pirate who was a captain in name only, with no crew or ship to call her own. She wept bitterly, hat gripped tight in her hands. Was the destruction of their home not enough? What is it about this land that calls for war? That makes it so the youngest here must give their lives fighting for a peace they will never see?)

(A man with the features of a fox, who grew rapidly due to biology and war, saw the message as he was setting down his pack in a mesa biome thousands of blocks from spawn. His face fell as he stared at the message, and his thoughts became muddled as conflicting emotions bubbled in his chest. It was a chaotic mess of bitterness, affection, and nostalgia, all heavily muffled by a feeling of apathy that had filled his heart ever since the destruction of his nation. His home.

The man closed his eyes, took a few deep, trembling breaths, and put down his communicator. He took out his supplies and continued his work on a nation nestled in a vast, empty canyon that was populated by nothing but rabbits, with no sound to accompany him but the rustling of the wind.) 

(The woman with pink hair and a jaded heart ignored her communicator when it buzzed at first. She had more important things to do than see the fallout of the death of a troublemaker. But a persistent sting in her heart urged her to look. When she did, what little movement there was in her cavernous, underground city came to a halt. 

...It can’t be, she thought. Her hands shook so hard she dropped what was in them as memories flashed through her head of a time long past, a time of hope and revolution, of a place full of nostalgia. A place that slowly fell apart no matter how much they tried, that was falling apart the moment they were supposed to have won. A home that started as a place of dreams, but in the end, was never meant to be.)

(The man with wings that were never made for flight saw the message as he, too, found another spot far from spawn to settle. He stilled for a moment as he gazed at the message. He bowed his head, standing in silence for a moment as he remembered the kid that was once their president. It was a moment, only a moment, before he put away the communicator, turning to the untouched land before him. A grin spread across his face as hunger danced within his eyes.)

(The one who tried to do right even though he was a coward, the one who was a descendent of endermen, felt his communicator buzz a second time. He had to blink away the tears that trailed down his cheeks like lava, unable to touch them for fear of causing further damage. He picked up his communicator, fear bubbling in his chest.

There, staring up at him, was the message he suspected might show but begged not to see. A message that brought more tears to his eyes, though he desperately tried to withhold them.

With shuddering breath he opened his book. He didn’t need the list to confirm, but he still flipped through the pages again, hands moving mechanically, until he reached one of the first pages in his book.

Friends, read the list. And there, beside Tommyinnit, read Tubbo_.

Fresh tears spilled down his face. He flipped through the pages again, reading each and every one, soaking in words that spotched as tears dripped from his chin. He read them carefully, repeating the words in his mind over and over again, wishing he could burn them into his memory like the tears burned scars into his skin.

He reached the blank page signifying the end of his memories. His tears fell anew, his efforts to keep them at bay diminishing now that there was nothing left to read.

He took off his suit jacket and used it to blot out his tears. New ones fell, but he ignored them. He reached into his inventory, pulling out a quill, and with a deep breath and determination etched on his face, he began to write.)

That day, two death messages rang out across the server. Two death messages that carried more weight than any of their previous copies. It was the third death message for both of them, and the third death was permanent.

Only one knew why the messages appeared.

Punz saw the messages and paused. He glanced at the chest he moved to the corner of his tower. A chest filled to the brim with riches, carrying a note that begged for aid. A note that told him no matter what he chose that the chest was his because if they didn’t come back, it wouldn’t matter who had it. A note he had seen, read, and left to sit, out of sight and out of mind, until the messages buzzed on the communicators.

Punz walked over to the chest, pulling it open. Diamonds and gold gleamed back at him. For the first time, he counted them.

What he found was more riches than Dream had given him. Less than the man had promised, yes, but more than he had ever delivered. And he was told to keep it no matter what he did.

A bubble of guilt started to grow in his chest as he stared at payment for an ignored call for aid. Because, despite the fact that he was a mercenary, receiving payment for an action he neglected to take sat wrong. The bubble of guilt grew bigger, weighing him down as he realized that he could have saved the kids that just died. He stared at the chest of riches, and it gleamed back mockingly, daring him to take it and continue as if nothing had happened.

He shut the lid.

Punz turned, pulling on armor as he marched towards the door. He grabbed his sword from its spot by the wall, sliding it into the sheath attached to his back. He marched out the door, heading towards a place only he and Dream knew existed.

He entered through the mountain, eyes on the edge of the elevator as he waited for the room to be revealed. There was blackstone, blackstone, redstone lamps, and more blackstone, and then there was-

There was red.

There, laying on the ground, was the body of Tommyinnit. Punz approached calmly, even though the guilt in his chest sunk to his stomach, making him feel sick. The teen was on his back, blood pooled on the floor, and his hand wrapped around two blood-soaked bandanas. There was a faint smile on his face as his eyes stared, unseeing, at the glowing portal on the wall opposite to the elevator.

Punz knelt by the teen and gently closed his eyes. He brought Tommy’s lifeless arms to rest on his stomach, making sure the bandanas resting on his neck were wrapped tight around his hand.

He stood, and followed bloody footprints leading away from the corpse towards the portal. He followed them a third of the way down the obsidian hallway, and when they stopped, he kept walking. Hopelessness wormed its way into the mix of emotions in the pit of his stomach.

This is a place he had never seen. This place he had not known about. He had helped to build the room of blackstone underneath the mountain but the nether portal and this hallway were additions he had no idea existed. 

Maybe he should have asked what the room was going to be used for.

He stepped through the portal on the other side of the hallway and came out in what looked to be a reception room. Quartz pillars held the structure high overhead, and numerous redstone lamps kept the place brightly lit despite the dark building material. But none of that mattered to Punz.

There, in the middle of the floor, curled into a ball, was Tubbo. A bloodtrail on the floor made it clear he dragged himself over.

Punz walked over, his pace slow. He wanted to hope the teen might still be alive because he was able to make his way across part of the room. He wanted to hope that he could save the teen, to try and make up for letting them face Dream alone. He hopes against all odds that the death message in the chat was wrong. That it was an error, that Dream forced it, anything.

But… he knew Tubbo was dead. Death messages were not something an admin could manipulate.

He knelt by Tubbo like he did Tommy, purposefully not looking down at his mangled legs. Punz took a deep breath, steeling himself, and reached for the teen, carefully lifting his head from the ground. His eyes were closed, and his chest did not move. Punz waitied, leaning as close as he dared to check for breath. He heard nothing.

He removed his armor and gingerly lifted the teen, holding the body close as he made his way back through the portals. He walked back through the portals, taking great care to make sure Tubbo’s limbs did not hit the frames.

He settled Tubbo right beside Tommy. It was only right for them- for their bodies- to end up together. He laid the teen down carefully, taking great care so as to not worsen the injuries on his body.

He guided Tubbo’s free hand over to Tommy’s, letting them rest in each other's palm. And, as he stood up to leave, the glint of metal caught his eye. He bent down, curious. 

There, clutched tight within Tubbo’s hand, were two compasses, doomed to spin for the rest of eternity.