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Tommy leaned back against the cold stone wall of the house he had built with Wilbur just outside the border of Las Nevadas. It was empty and sad, a feeling Tommy was becoming more acquainted with every day. Wilbur had made it painfully clear that he didn't care about much anymore, especially not material possessions. Tommy brought a few necessities with him, but the only one that really meant anything was Wilbur's guitar.
The instrument sat, untouched, leaning against the stone wall. He hadn't played since he was revived. Part of him was worried that he had forgotten everything Wilbur taught him. Gently, Tommy pushed himself off of the wall and grabbed the guitar. He sat down and pulled it into his lap, adjusting it to his liking.
He hummed to himself for a moment, thinking of what he could try and play. There was a brief time where he had tried to teach himself the melody to his disc Cat, so that if Dream ever stole it again he could always remember the tune. Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to teach yourself how to play a guitar, and Tommy gave up pretty quickly.
He closed his eyes and let himself slump back against the wall. Mindlessly, he began to pull on strings and thoughts of how he came to posses the guitar in the first place came flooding back to him.
"Hey, Wil?" A voice came. it was quiet, but Wilbur heard it nonetheless. He turned from his spot in the RV to face his brother-like figure, Tommy.
"Yeah Tommy?"
He didn't meet the blond's eyes, but he watched as he twirled his thumbs around each other. This was his sign that he was going to ask for something that he wasn't entirely sure he was going to get. Wilbur held back a sigh.
"Well, you see, I was thinking, right?"
"You do that a lot."
Tommy didn't laugh. He stared directly into Wilbur's eyes. "I want you to teach me how to play guitar."
Wilbur was completely still for a moment, before bursting out with laughter. "There's no need to be so serious, Tommy! It's just guitar."
The blond pursed his lips as he fought the feeling of an embarrassed blush coming to his face. "Wil, I'm being serious! I want you to teach me how to play guitar."
"It's not the first time you've asked, Tommy. Why do you want to play so bad anyway? We're going to build a country, you don't need to know how to play guitar. We should be helping Eret build the walls."
A sigh echoed throughout the vehicle. The blond stood and made his way to the door. "You're right."
Wilbur tapped his foot for a second before he stood. Tommy was clearly upset, and he didn't want him moping all day over some dumb guitar lesson. "Tom! Don't go yet, I'll teach you the basics, okay? But that's it, then we need to get right back to our country."
Blue eyes widened in surprise and lit up with happiness. "You mean it?"
"Yeah, yeah. Now get back in here before I change my mind."
A faint smile came over Tommy's face as he remembered how much Wilbur struggled to teach him. For whatever reason, Tommy couldn't hold it correctly and didn't listen very well to instructions. The basics shouldn't have taken the whole afternoon, but they did. Tommy didn't regret it, though. He knew he annoyed Wilbur, but even so, he rememebered the way they laughed together at every wrong note.
As the members of L'Manberg fought for independence, Tommy never took another lesson, even after peace was achieved. He was too busy plotting on how he could get his discs back from Dream to think about the instrument. But when Wilbur lost his last canon life, he was forced to go through his things. He was rather surprised to find that the guitar was in perfect condition, and no dust covered it. Wilbur must've played in his free time.
Even then, Tommy didn't play. He simply took the instrument to his little dirt house, and hid it in his room. It wasn't until after Wilbur's revival that he touched it again. When they built their little stone house outside of Las Nevadas, Tommy figured that he should bring it to bring him some solace.
It reminded him of what Wilbur used to be like, back in L'Manberg. Back when he'd threaten to cry at the mention of their brotherly bond. Now he used the word "family" around Tommy so often and it felt strange. Tommy shook his head and tried to focus more on the sounds the guitar was making.
This became a nightly activity for Tommy, as Wilbur was away for a long time. Every night he'd slump against the same cold stone wall and pull the guitar into his lap. He would strum away, not thinking about the notes coming from the instrument.
The sounds from the guitar didn't go unnoticed. Purpled, who would never admit it, enjoyed coming to the border to listen to him play. Something about how humans could take wood and strings to make sounds was very admirable. He couldn't tell that Tommy was a novice player, since these sounds were all new to him.
Accompanying him was Slime, the human-like slime creature who apparently saw every event that happened on the server. Purpled didn't say anything as they listened to him play, but he was curious as to what the slimey creature was thinking.
"Just like Wilbur."
The blond turned, and to his surprise, Slime was frowning. "Wilbur played this too?"
He shook his head. "Wilbur Soot from L'Manberg played a lot better than this. TommyInnit from nowhere in particular just wants to be like him. I think."
Purpled didn't say anything and turned his head back towards the stone house.
Fundy was diligently making sure Las Nevada's was properly lit when he began to hear soft strums fill his ears. Even when he tried to ignore it, he felt tears starting to build in his eyes. He was reminded of his frustrations with his father, and how he never visited his own son after his revival. He pulled his cap down over his ears in an effort to drown out the sound.
Foolish, the totem of undying and god of the ocean was unphased by the playing. He was dutifully expanding the border by placing more sand to cover the dirt when he first heard the sounds of the guitar late one night. He knew it was Tommy that was playing, but he really wanted to ask him to play an actual tune instead of random, out-of-tune strumming. Foolish refrained, though, as he didn't want to upset him.
Even Sam heard the playing. Whenever he could, he would come through Las Nevadas to fix up redstone or admire his work. It was one of his favorite places to stretch his legs after a long shift in Pandora's Vault. At first, he was confused. He didn't know who lived in the small stone structure just outside of Las Nevadas. But after speaking with Foolish, he understood.
A mixture of guilt and sadness swirled in his stomach. The ametur pulling of the strings reminded him of just how young Tommy was, and just how much he had faced. Alone. Sam had sworn to protect him, and he failed. Just as he failed in being there for Ponk. No sad song could equate to the sadness the simple stums evoked from him.
The president of Las Nevadas himself wasn't spared from the grief that the guitar seemed to bring to those around it. One late night Slime dragged him out to hear the playing coming from the stone structure. Quackity could tell it wasn't WIlbur's playing, as he had heard the brown haired musician play back when he lived in Pogtopia.
"Wilbur couldn't even teach him to play correctly. Did he do anything right?" Quackity asked aloud, but he knew nobody would answer. Tommy wasn't plucking strings, he was strumming them softly, and even though it didn't sound great, it was enough to draw him in. He thought of his time playing the guitar. He wasn't sure where he had placed it, now that he was thinking about it.
Karl and Sapnap were the people he had played for the most. He'd write them cheesy little love songs that were short and didn't always rhyme. Neither of them minded though, they just appreciated the thought. He gripped the straps of his suspenders and tried to focus on anything else. He didn't notice as a single tear slid down his cheek.
"Quackity from Las Nevadas, are you crying?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, Slime. I am."
Tommy had no idea his playing was loud enough to hear in Las Nevadas. He was too lost in his own thoughts to even recognize how loud he was playing. His eyes were still screwed shut, thinking about the memories he shared with Wilbur and even Ghostbur before Wilbur's revival. He thought about his death, and how terrified he was of ever dying again. He felt himself slowly lose his grip on reality every night as he sat and strummed on the guitar.
"You still haven't gotten the basics right, even after all this time."
Tommy's eyes shot open at the voice, and to his surprise, Wilbur was leaning on the doorframe to their shared stone house. He quickly scrambled to his feet and set the guitar aside. "Wilbur, you're back!"
Wilbur chuckled. "Yeah, well, let's just say my visit to the prison didn't exactly go as I'd planned. We can work on that later though. How about I teach you how to play?"
Tommy stared at him in disbelief. "Seriously? You mean it?"
Wilbur sat on the floor and pulled the guitar into his own lap. "It's been awhile since I've played, but I should still be good enough to teach you. Come on, Tommy, I thought all you wanted was for me to teach you?"
He nodded exitedly as he took a seat next to his brother. "You might need to teach me the basics again."
"Of course."