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Tubbo hears something. It's a sound he's known for a long time now, and his short little legs take off running towards it. "Wilbur!" He calls out, turning a corner and finding his brother in their shared bedroom, plucking at his guitar strings and humming a tune. He looks up when he sees Tubbo, smiling kindly and sitting up straighter.
"Hey Tubs, how is it you always know when I take the guitar out?" He pats the space next to him and the young boy gives him a wide smile, a couple teeth missing as his baby teeth were beginning to make room for his permanent ones. Tubbo clambered up onto the bed, scooting in close and Wilbur began to play again. The tune was familiar, one Wilbur played often. Sometimes he even sang with it, those days were Tubbo's favorites.
He strummed for a few minutes more, before stopping and laying the guitar in his lap, nudging it towards Tubbo in a silent invitation to let him play with it. The boy took the chance immediately, as he always did, picking and plucking at strings without thought and making discordant notes. Wilbur chuckled, the teen sliding off the bed and heading to his closet. Tubbo continued to play, huffing when he couldn't make any of them sound like they did when Wilbur played.
"Tubbo, do you know what today is?" Wilbur asked, his voice soft and syrupy-sweet as he returned to the bed, a hand behind his back. Tubbo looked up at him, shaking his head in reply. "Well, today's the anniversary of when we found you. Me and Phil. It's been 2 years since you joined our family, and I thought I'd give you a little present for the occasion."
The grey-eyed boy gasped excitedly, bouncing in place as he stared up at his brother expectantly. He didn't really remember much from when he first joined their household, but he knew what presents were and that's all that really mattered to him. "What is it?" He asked, holding out his hands.
Into them, Wilbur deposited what looked to Tubbo to be a very tiny version of his guitar. The boy gasped, scrambling to his feet and jumping in excitement on the bed. "Wilbur! Oh my gosh, oh Wilbur! It's a me-sized guitar!" The older boy giggled, moving his guitar to rest on the floor and sitting back on the bed, resting against the headboard.
"Close! It's called a ukulele. It's a lot like a guitar, but it's great for beginners. I first learned how to play on this one, Phil gave it to me when I was around your age." Grey eyes widened as Tubbo looked down at the ukulele in his hands, now holding it much more delicately.
"This one was yours? An... and you're gonna let me have it?"
"Not only will I let you have it bud, I'm gonna teach you how to play it."
Phil's never been much of a musical man himself. By chance one day when he'd stopped by a village for a supply run he'd seen a booth touting many different instruments for sale. The moment he'd dropped the ukulele he'd bought into Wilbur's hands their home was almost never without sound again.
From the ukulele then came the guitar, then came a piano he'd surprised Will with for his 18th birthday. Quite a change from string instruments but Phil had a feeling Wilbur would pick it up just as fast. He did just that, teaching himself in a matter of weeks the different chords and it was only a little bit longer til he was creating songs on the piano now along with his guitar.
And right alongside him was Tubbo, ever the little follower. More often than not if Phil came into the house and heard piano music, Wilbur would be sat on his bench with Tubbo saddled up next to him, watching with awe as his older brother turned key-pressing into beautiful melodies. Some days Tubbo wasn't immediately visible but he could hear the plink plonk of mispressed keys and Wilbur would have him on his lap, showing him where to hold his hands, his fingers still a bit too short to play anything more complicated than Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
Some days Wilbur would have a whole audience, Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno all gathered around to hear his newest original song. Tommy and Tubbo would have stars in their eyes, hanging off every note, but Techno merely nodded along, ever the stoic, though he'd ruffle Wilbur's hair with pride when he was done.
Just like he'd done with the ukulele with time Wilbur taught Tubbo everything he knew, and the older he got the bigger his hands grew and in only a couple years time he was playing full songs just like his brother. Some he made up, but mainly ones Wilbur made, the tunes drilled into his head from years of hearing them.
When he agreed to join Wilbur on his expedition to a new server the hardest thing to part with aside from Phil and Techno was the piano. The ukulele had been small enough to pack, but Tubbo knew it would be a very long time til he had the chance to play those keys again. He hoped they'd run across one on their travels to tide him over until he could play this one again. Still, with Wilbur and Tommy by his side, he knew their adventure would make it all worth the wait.
"You called for me, President Schlatt?"
Tubbo was stiff as a board in the doorway, his hands clasped behind him, clammy and cold. Schlatt was sat at his desk, feet propped up on the edge of it, a lit cigar clasped between two fingers. He smiled at the teen, his look undecipherable. His suit was immaculate, as always, and Tubbo fought the urge to fix his own tie. Schlatt always yelled at him for fidgeting, he was finally learning to think before acting.
"There you are, 'bout fucking time. Like to keep your boss waiting?"
"No, no of course not! I'm sorry, I-I'd been out gathering those attendance numbers you asked for. For the festival."
"Right. The festival."
The horned man took a long drag of his cigar, letting the smoke escape through his nose as he set his feet down and leaned forward in his chair. "Well come in already. Close the door behind you." Tubbo jolted into movement instantly, stepping forward and shutting the door behind himself, locking eyes with a worried-looking Quackity who was passing by for just a moment before they were separated by inches of polished mahogany. The teen stepped closer to the desk, hands now tightly held together in front of him as he awaited Schlatt's orders. The older ram waved his hand toward the far corner of the room, Tubbo turning to look and feeling a shiver run through him at what was there.
A piano. It was one of the digital ones Wilbur had mentioned to him once. He'd never seen one in person before, just knew they had electric ones that were portable. Tubbo turned back to Schlatt, confusion evident in his face. "Sir?"
"I heard you play. Play me something."
"Oh, well, I mean I've played classic piano! I've never tried an electric one, not sure if they're very different or not but-"
"Are you refusing?"
"...No sir. Of course I'll play for you."
Tubbo swallowed hard, turning and walking over to the digital piano. He took a seat in front of it, looking it over anxiously. He'd never played an electronic instrument before. It took him a moment to find the power button, goosebumps rising when he pressed down on a key and was rewarded with the familiar tone he'd grown up hearing. Taking a breath, he laid his hands out on the keys, ready to play.
Wilbur's teachings, don't fail him now.
Out of everything that happened during the retaking of L'Manburg, one of the most shocking was seeing Phil again. In fact, he'd say it was trumped only by the fact that he'd gotten back to the ruins of Manburg just in time to see his father's blade run Wilbur through. Kind of hard to one-up filicide.
It was hard to hold it against him, Tubbo had seen the change to Wilbur firsthand. The man Phil killed that day was merely an echo of their Wilbur. The shadow of the man who taught him how to play the ukulele, how to peel an apple, how to make 4 different kinds of bird calls. And in the end he was gone, and Phil was here now. He wanted to appreciate having his father back, as weirdly awkward as it's been.
Tubbo didn't remember their relationship feeling like this. Of course, the last time he'd seen Phil was at least 2 years ago, and a lot's changed since, but he didn't think there'd be such a noticeable rift. It especially stung when he noticed Phil talked to Tommy as he always had, and Tubbo was clever enough to know the crows he'd notice leaving Phil's half-built L'Manburg home were likely carrying letters to Techno clutched in their claws.
All he could do was try his best, as he always had. There was so much on his shoulders now, weeks into his reluctant presidency and L'Manburg was almost fully reborn thanks to his and the citizens’ efforts. Even now Tubbo's hard at work, extending the stilted paths connecting the newly built houses. Phil's nearby, still working on finishing his own home, the doors wide open so they could chat. Thoughtlessly, he began to hum, a deep seated habit Tubbo's had since childhood. It's not until he hears Phil clear his throat that he realizes the melody was one of Wilbur's, and he silences himself in an instant.
"Gosh, Tubbo," The older man called out after a few moments, Tubbo turning to acknowledge him, a habit leftover from the Manburg cabinet he’d yet to lose. "It's been a long time since I've heard that tune. I remember when you first learned it, played it damn near all day on your little ukulele." A chuckle escaped his lips, turning to look at Tubbo through the open door. "You brought that with you when you and... you and Wilbur left, didn't you? Do you still play?" His smile was kind, but Tubbo was well accustomed to smiles hiding deeper feelings. The ram couldn't help the tight frown that pulled across his face, ducking his head to look down at the wood in front of him.
"It's um, been a long time. Haven't really had much time to practice these days."
Lie.
"Not sure if I even know where it is anymore, to be honest!"
Lie.
"Now that I'm thinking about it... it might've gotten destroyed in the explosion."
Total fucking lie. He knew exactly where the ukulele was, carefully hidden away in a chest off the L'Manburg docks, far from peeping eyes. Phil took his words at face value, replying with a little murmur of sympathy before turning back to his own work. Tubbo turns back to the bridge. He wails at the nails in front of him as hard as he could with the small hammer he had. Tubbo didn't hum again that day.
"Hi Tubs."
Tubbo jumped in surprise, a hand clutching his chest as he slammed the box in front of him shut, taking a moment to recognize the voice before turning to greet the speaker. Ghostbur was peeking in at him, half-phased through the thick log walls of his Snowchester home. The ram let out a little huff, forcing a smile onto his face.
"Hey Ghostbur, haven't seen you in a bit." The ghost smiles back, either not recognizing the forced friendliness in his tone or outright ignoring it. He pulls out of the wall and Tubbo watches as the knob to his front door turns and Ghostbur lets himself in. Tubbo had asked him once, about how it was he could change himself from intangible to corporeal but he'd just laughed at his 'presidential fancy words'. Now that he's inside Tubbo notices he's got one hand behind his back, holding something that made Tubbo's chest suddenly feel tight.
"I've got a surprise, Tubbo! Do you, do you remember? I asked you to play music with me and you said you'd lost your ukulele?" The ghost of his brother is smiling so widely it's almost painful for Tubbo to even look at him. Every second he spent with Ghostbur was a painful reminder of the Wilbur he'd lost well before he died. Ghostbur was like Wilbur before they'd changed servers. Pre-explosion, pre-election, pre-L'Manburg.
He pulls his hand around to his front and he's got exactly what Tubbo feared. It's his ukulele. The ukulele. The one he'd been hiding for months in a chest in an empty house that sat on the docks he never moved into. It's in perfect condition.
"I tuned it up for you and everything, isn't this wonderful? Are you free? Oh it'd be so lovely to play together again, don't you think?"
Tubbo can feel his stomach churn as his uneasiness deepens. Still, he holds his hands out and takes the proffered instrument, self-focused anger bubbling inside at the small sparks of happiness the familiar feeling the wood under his palms gave him. "It's been a long time, W-Ghostbur. I'm not sure I'll remember any of your songs." He's lying again, can't bring himself to meet his brother's eyes. Every song the older man had ever written was etched into his brain forever. He'd never forget a single chord.
"That's okay, we can make something new up together then!"
A little laugh escapes, Tubbo smiling wryly. There's no denying the happy tears welling in his eyes, he's missed music desperately. When Wilbur died he'd thought he'd never be able to bring himself to play again. Ghostbur's not quite him, not fully, but his gentle encouragement makes him feel like he did 10 years ago. Tiny, and excited. No horns yet, no scars. Just him and his big brother, making pretty sounds to go with pretty words. He knows when he's been beat. Rubbing his tears away, he meets Ghostbur's gaze and nods. "Alright then, let's go make some music."
He'd always had trouble saying no to Wilbur.
1 year.
A whole lot can happen in a single year. Tubbo's sat at the edge of L'Manburg, his feet half-dangling over the crater, ukulele in his lap. One single, incredibly long, painful year. L'Manburg would have been a year old today. He's in his old suit. It's in tatters, the sleeves and pants all singed and ripped at the ends. There's a burn mark right in the middle of his chest, from one of the fireworks he took trying to help Tommy on Doomsday. The gold epaulets are somehow in perfect condition, minus a tassle or two which got singed.
Still, it feels the most appropriate attire for the occasion. He would've busted out the old revolution uniform, had it not been blown up along with the country by Wilbur. For a hole created by tons upon tons of TNT, L'Manburg was starting to look lively again. The foliage was growing wild, parts of the jagged sides starting to get overgrown with moss. Milkweed and lupine were starting to blossom, sprouting out from cracks in the crater that got enough sunlight. Summer was here, and nature wasn't going to let the wiles of some fools stop it from thriving.
He wishes Ghostbur could see it. What was it Phil once said, over a painful but far overdue family dinner, that Ghostbur told him? He'd sowed the seeds of peace? Tubbo thinks it's blossomed. It's no new L'Manburg, but it's beautiful, in its own right. Tubbo was meant to be here with Ghostbur. They'd talked about it, weeks ago. His brother had asked him if they could play for L'Manburg together, on its anniversary. How could he say no? Ghostbur had reminded him what music could do. The power it held, the joy it gave him.
Ghostbur might not be here, but damn if Tubbo wouldn't keep up his end of the bargain. Even if it was painful. Even if it felt like it was killing him. It takes his shaking fingers accidentally strumming a chord for him to realize he'd blanked out again. The sun is almost set, its last rays of orange light cast over the hill, and Tubbo realizes he can no longer see farther than a few feet down.
He doesn't need to anyways. He knows what's down there. It's not until the last bit of sun has left, and Tubbo can see the sky dimming from pink and purple into navy that he begins to play. Fingers find the chords with ease, the notes have a forever hold in his memory. Tubbo starts to sing, blinking hard as his eyes instantly start to well up.
"I heard there was a special place...
Where men could go, and emancipate..."
His voice is wobbly, and he's holding back a sob. He wants to throw the fucking ukulele in the crater. To never see it again. To forget the joy music brought him, that he'd forgotten about for so long. He wants to go back to being quietly miserable. He pushes onward, for Ghostbur. He strums the next chord and tries to continue.
"Tubbo?"
"The tyranny- h-hello?"
His brother's standing on the opposite edge of L'Manburg. Wilbur's chuckling to himself as he squints to focus on Tubbo on the other side. Tubbo can only see a brown blur moving around, his eyes filled with tears he hurriedly tries to wipe away with one hand, the other clutching the neck of his ukulele so tightly the strings make a pathetic twang as they get pressed into his hand. Wilbur becomes more clear, and Tubbo only realizes then that he's accompanied by Ranboo. He can see Wilbur's grin widen when he realizes his little brother's noticed him from across the crater.
"You okay bud?"