Chapter Text
Soft groans of mobs crept through the frigid night air, snow swirling down. The blond haired boy tugged the red sweater closer to him, trudging through Snowchester. In reality, the boy’s mind wasn’t present, instead trapped an hour ago, the argument still ringing in his ears. Words had sent cracks splintering between friends, leaving each party stumbling away hurt.
“Gotta get away, can’t stay anymore,” Tommy mumbled to himself. He was travelling blind, not sure where to go but just needing to go anywhere but here. Continuing to push through the snow, it clung to his pants, drenching the fabric, weighing it down. He had been walking for hours, slipping in and out of the present, still hearing the “I hate you”’s that had been screamed out by each person.
Stars shone above, like silver paint splattered across the sky, the moon glowing. These provided the boy with light, keeping him from tripping and falling flat onto his face. The water chilled Tommy, his teeth chattering. He pushed forward, entering into unknown land, forest and earth replacing the snow.
Tommy heard a distant shout and froze into place, ears straining to hear the noise before running, feet pounding against the springy ground. Having recently rained, the ground was wet and the snow under Tommy's shows was rapidly turning to slush. In his haste to escape whatever had made the noise, his feet slid out from under him on the slippery ground. His head roughly collided with a nearby boulder, sending blood trickling down the back of his head, spreading crimson droplets below him.
Black spots danced in his vision before he slipped into unconsciousness.
---
He eventually woke up again, dried blood coating the stone under him. Trying to move his head, his neck protested, sore after having used the cold, hard stone as a pillow. Resting his head again, he lay down, the damp forest floor soaking into his clothes. His red jumper had dirt rubbed into it, turning it from a bright red to a grubby maroon. Sticks, leaves, and twigs clung to his hair and clothes, and even a few confused had ants scuttled over him.
Slowly, he combed out all the debris, rubbing more dirt into his once blonde hair. He tried to stand up again, but the black dots returned. He sat down slowly and tried to think. Fighting through the brain fog, he could only recollect bits and pieces from the day before.
Angry voices echoed, arguing over something he could no longer remember. Two faces, one with a black and white face split down the middle, the other with fluffy hair with two small horns poking out from the top. He couldn’t remember their names, only the last words they all had exchanged were injected with hate. All this thinking was hurting his head, so he laid back down, this time, resting on the dewy forest floor.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to remember his name. And he couldn’t. A word, there on the tip of his tongue, he could almost say it, but the right syllables weren’t falling into place. Giving up, he let his eyes open again.
Trees rose like pillars around him, creating lines that led up to the sky. Birds squawked and sang up above, heralding the arrival of a new day. He supposed he didn’t need a name anymore, he had no one to call him by it. He was alone now.
His tummy groaned, alerting the boy of his need for food. Pulling out a loaf of bread, he chewed slowly and gently, not wanting to aggravate his head. Finishing the load, he checked his inventory once again. He noticed that he was low on food, he’d have to find some more soon.
Now feeling better, he stood up again, this time the black dots did not return. He walked around for a bit, using the surrounding trees to support him. Finding a pool, he pulled out a bottle and filled it with the clear water. Draining it, he refilled and corked the bottle before stowing it away in his inventory.
Creeping into the pool, he washed himself off, letting the blood and dirt rinse away. It felt cool on his skin, refreshing. After swimming around in the water for a bit, he made his way out of the pool. Pulling his red sweater back over his head, he sat on a fallen log by the pool. Letting his toes brush over the grass, he tried to remember, pushing past the growing headache.
Memories swirled, not letting him catch hold of one. Faces he couldn’t put names to swirled in and out, along with words and sometimes flowers. Eventually, it all consolidated into a single sentence, the same one that had been repeating itself in his head the night before.
I need to leave.
Letting the headache subside, he eased his way back onto his feet. Cautiously putting one foot in front of another, he continued to walk.
---
A week had passed since he had sat up from that log. A week he had been walking, escaping the land where he had lived. He had been eating whatever he could find, apples, bread, anything edible.
The sky above him was a charcoal black, dotted with pin pricks of light. He sat by a softly crackling fire, pork held over the flame. Once cooked, he picked up the porkchop and hungrily chewed into the meat.
Suddenly, rustling could be heard. He put down his porkchop and paused, listening for the next sound. A twig snapped before an annoyed mutter was heard. Then nothing. He went back to cautiously eating his porkchop before being tackled to the side.
---
A week had passed since the three friends had had their argument. A week had passed since Tommy fled out of Tubbo and Ranboo mansion. Not a hair from Tommy’s head had been seen, and the two friends were becoming increasingly worried.
“Ranboo, Tommy’s gone and disappeared!” The shorter fretted.
“I’m sure he’s fine, Tubbo. He’ll come back eventually.” Ranboo comforted his (platonic) husband.
“We drove him away, Ranboo!” Tubbo sat down, tugging at his brown curls. After a moment he spoke again, voice determined. “I’m going to find him, Ranboo. I’m going to find him and bring him back and we can all sit on the bench together and listen to music. And it’s going to be ok.”
“Stay safe, Tubbo.” Ranboo told him after a moment.
---
Night had fallen when he finally saw a glow behind a copse of trees. Softly trending along the forest floor he managed to make his way over to what seemed to be a campfire. Creepy gently, he made his way behind a tree. And there, by the fire was the missing boy eating a slightly raw porkchop.
Distracted by the joy of finding Tommy, Tubbo carelessly put a foot down on a twig, snapping it in half. Tommy paused and put his porkchop down, Tubbo froze, letting a few murmured swears slip from his lips. After a moment, Tommy uneasily resumed eating, gnawing at the meat.
Deciding ‘fuck it, now or never’, Tubbo shot out from the bush tackling Tommy.