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TommyInnit is tired.
Life, everything, was tiring. Somehow, everything seemed to go wrong for him. Which, he might deserve, but surely, surely he wasn't so wretched he deserved to die by the hands of a monster in a dark cell. —And, sure, he got revived, but knowing that all three of his lives were taken by the same person, creature, filled him with an emotion so, so everything that it left him feeling practically nothing.
If he was going to die, it shall be by his own hands.
But first, he has a few loose ends to tie up, and his main priority is Technoblade. He wrote all the others that have cared about him at one point letters, but Technoblade is much too important for a simple letter. He needs to apologize, in person, for everything— the betrayal, the hurt.
And so, it's left him here, standing on Technoblade's porch, freezing his ass off in the tundra, with a custom-made poison potion in hand. It was one he made himself, it would allow the drinker to live for minimum ten minutes, maximum thirty. He finds himself hoping it's the latter. He downs it in one go before throwing the empty bottle somewhere in the snow. One more thing to apologize for, he thinks, littering on Techno's lawn.
It takes three knocks for the door to open.
"Theseus."
"Technoblade,"
…
"may I come inside? Just for a second."
Wordlessly, the brute steps aside. Tommy steps in, Techno closes the door behind them. The sound of a throat clearing is heard as they sit down on opposite sides of the room.
"Is there a reason you're here, the middle of the arctic— my home, no less— with nothing more than a threadbare sweater to ward off the cold?" Technoblade asks, monotonous as ever, as he shifts awkwardly in his place. Tommy smiles,
"there is."
Techno silently urges him to go on with a motion of his hand.
"I wanted to talk– well, apologize, really."
Techno does a double take, as though he can't believe what he's hearing. He probably can't.
"You, TommyInnit, wants to apologize— to me. Seriously. Seriously?"
He nods, seriously. Techno puts a hand over his heart, rather dramatically, like he's been shot.
"Gods, you must be dying— you're not dying, are you? Let me know in advance so I can plan the celebration."
It's a joke, he can tell when Technoblade is joking, though he still finds it rather ironic. He should get to what he came here for, it's already been atleast three minutes, he doesn't know how long he has left.
"I'm sorry, for treating you as The Blade, instead of just Technoblade, the loser who wages war over potatoes. I'm sorry for making it seem as though I view you purely as a weapon, instead of a person— you were always so cool to me when I was younger, I looked up to you so, so much. Even now, I still do. It's why I sought you out specifically, everyone else will be getting their compensation in letter form. I needed to see you in person, for I have so much to say with so little time."
Which is true, five minutes has passed since hes arrived. He could die in just another, or he could chat for twenty-five.
"I am not sorry for sticking with L'Manburg, but I am, greatly, for not making it clearer to you where I stood. I'm sorry for making you feel betrayed, and I am sorry for making you hurt. I'm sorry for taking your gapples and othed items, I'm sorry for practically squatting in your basement. I'm sorry I couldn't help Wilbur, I'm sorry I couldn't stop Phil, and I'm sorry I couldn't be better."
Techno seemed surprised— almost— at his speech. His eyes were widened by the tiniest fraction.
"I— I accept your apologies, and I'm sorry too, I guess. I just– maybe I'm being foolish, but why does this seem like goodbye?"
Tommy ignored the last bit.
"Technoblade,"
"Yes?"
"I know I don't say it, but I love you. More than I should, probably, and you were the best brother one could ever wish for."
"Theseus, this really seems like goodbye, man. I know there was the whole prison-Dream thing but you're not– you're not dying, you're not going to die anytime soon."
"Nothing that happened to me is your fault, I don't blame you."
"Theseus– Tommy,"
He could feel the poison taking effect, much more than it had been previously. He would estimate thirty, maybe forty-five seconds.
"I love you, Technoblade, say fuck you to Phil for me."
Black dots dance in his vision as he slips from consciousness. He can faintly hear the calling of his name, faintly feel the hands frantically shaking him and the tears falling on his face. They are not his own, he recognizes. He hopes Technoblade does not cry too much.
The world as he knows it fades away, soon replaced by blue skies and vibrant grass. There is a large cottage not too far off in the distance, the faint sound of a guitar makes it's way to his ears.
This, he thinks, this is home.
And as he is welcomed inside by the surprised face of his pseudo-father, a smirk and wave aimed towards him from a man smelling of booze, and a loud exclaim of his name, he knows.
This is home.