Chapter Text
Flowers, whether or not Tommy admits to liking them. Is nobody’s business.
However, Tommy just can’t help but enjoy writing bouquets down on sheets of paper. He used to wonder why he stopped, or really, when he stopped.
Tommy sits in his little dirt shack, legs criss cross as his fingers casually twirl a pen. Awaiting a sentence that might not even come, after all, would someone really take 2 hours out of their time to just talk to another human being? Tommy shook his head violently, no. Puffy had the office up for a reason, she responded to his message out of her own free will. She’ll come, she can’t just dip on him after going through all the trouble, right? The pen in his hands doesn’t fall, as he scribbles nonsense onto a sheet of paper on his little notepad. Doodles of the people he once knew and called friends in a large garden planting flowers, vegetables or whatnot. Small doodles of Tommy plucking dozens of apples from trees, a grapevine where Ranboo messed around with the grapes that hung over the beams. Niki holding a bunch of roses and poppies in her hands, Techno with bags over bags of potatoes scattered on the ground and more.
He hunches over, the twirling of his pen coming to a slow stop as he placed it down gingerly. Tommy despises the silence, as probably anyone of L’manburg would agree. The silence provides a voided space for intrusive thoughts to take over your rationality, it’s a free pass for unwanted pleas to enter your mind and he hates every second of it. Tommy recalls Techno telling him about how, violence is the universal language and whatnot, but is it really? When your mind is your own worst enemy, when violence is committed to yourself on your own accord. No, Tommy disagrees strongly. Words will always be sharper than a sword, the damage words can inflict on others will forever bleed, while wounds done by weapons can be healed. Not like Tommy hasn’t, you know, experienced firsthand how words can hurt others around you. Oh, he definitely hasn’t torn the string between him and Tubbo with a simple sentence. He definitely hasn’t had people break him down bit by bit with both reassuring and insulting speeches and words.
With a jolt and startle, light raps of knocks were heard. Tommy looked up at the door as a compassionate looking female peeked in, watching as Tommy brightened up instantly at the sight of her. "Hey Tommy! Sorry for the delay, I was held up by Antfrost and I wanted to say hi." Puffy explained, before pulling a chair from the side and crashing onto it. "Do you want to take this to the office or stay here? As long as you feel comfortable, I genuinely don’t mind." Puffy smiles, with a warmth and friendliness that Tommy can’t seem to place or recognize. "Go, to the office I mean." Tommy clutches tightly onto the notepad, his eyes trained on the floor as Puffy sighed. "Come on, Tommy. Take your time, there’s no rush. Unless you have somewhere else to be of course, I don’t." Puffy stands, adjusting the messenger bag hung over her shoulder as she beckoned for Tommy to follow her.
Puffy keeps her pace in front of Tommy, trusting that Tommy can keep up with her brisk walk. As a knight of Eret’s, she understands the fear of having someone behind your back, the feeling of being physically backstabbed at any time. But she knows that Tommy notices the little act too, the amount of trust that Puffy has for the other. The two made their way down the pathway, as Tommy recalls how he was told stories about Dream digging out the path out with their own hands, the desire to create a path connecting all the buildings. He was brought back to when he decided to expand the path and fix all the little nooks and crannies that were chipped off from explosions and so on. Puffy stops abruptly, as she beckons towards the Therapuffy office. With a slight moment of hesitation, Tommy enters the quaint building with clenched fists in a desperate attempt to thrall the qualm that raged a war in his head. Puffy sat down first, pulling out a basket filled with tea bags, cocoa powder formulas, small boxes of sugar and etcetera. She grabs a mug from behind and mixes together a cup of hot chocolate, and offers it to Tommy. "Take your time."
Puffy was patient just as she is chaotic, Tommy refused to speak at all in the start. However, Puffy didn’t push, she just brought the most random of topics to start a possible conversation or discussion.They haven’t brought on any heavy conversing yet, as right now, all Tommy needs is someone to talk to. And with that, from hobbies, to gardening tools, to utensils, to bread, to shops, and finally, the mention of Puffy and Niki’s flower shop came to the light. "I actually really want to bring our flower shop back in business, you know. The building is still standing til this day, and the flowers within have likely wilted. It’d be symbolic as hell you know, the flower shop represents me and Niki’s relationship, if I were to revive the flower shop, I’d have a chance to restore our relationship back to its former health as well." She chuckles, clearly reminiscing the past of when two lovers shared a common interest of protection and friendship. Of the past where Dream had once bought a flower for someone he loved, of where Fundy and Ranboo laughed as they sold ice cream to compete with the duo.
"That’s sounds fun." Tommy commented, "I love flowers, did you know that Technoblade once braided his hair with flowers in the past? I used Forget me nots to braid his hair with back then, I don’t think he remembers." Tommy notes, as Puffy perks up with a sudden lit of interest. "You like flowers? The TommyInnit, a flower enjoyer?" Puffy teased, her head resting atop the back of her hand as her elbow rested on the table, tossing her leather book aside. "Tell me more." She threatens, lightheartedly. "Wil had a white lily in a vase in his room, it was the last flower mumza gave him before she left. It’s definitely wilted though, been years." Tommy didn’t necessarily mind spreading this information, it was mostly Wilbur and Technoblade who refused to acknowledge it.
"Niki and I’s flower shop sold flowers that were usually for love and rebirth, mostly because at that time, we silently hoped for people to come buy it as a representation of the new era of L’manburg. Of course, as you can clearly tell, that didn’t go so well but oh whatever." Puffy shrugged, as Tommy hovered his hand over the notepad. "Question, what’s the notepad for? If you want to share of course." Puffy asked, her eyes levelling with Tommy’s despite his hesitance to maintain the gesture. "Just, a list. I used to do something similar back then when I wanted to give bouquets of flowers to people, I forget what flowers I planned to bundle them into." Tommy admits, looking away from Puffy, who was clearly smiling at this newfound information. "You know what, as a small treat. Why don’t you do something for me? Everything we’ve talked about here, was about old interests and things we did in the past. Do me a favour, pick up an old hobby, enjoy yourself. Find some closure in things you used to do out of pure enjoyment, have fun." Puffy spins her chair, searching for a reaction from Tommy.
"… I’ll try."
"And that’s all I need to hear."
Another hour passes by, as Tommy steps out of the office, waving to the other before running off. He held his notepad in his hand, his pen now twirling around his fingers again. He thought over Puffy’s words, the little favour garnered from his uncensored rambling. To bring back a hobby that he considered long dead in the past, he knew what her intentions were when she said to seek closure. She wanted him to find peace in himself, but Tommy thinks differently. He’s a people-person, he can’t be alone for too long or his mind will screech at his thoughts. To find closure, would be for him to repair something that he’s been putting off for way too long. His feet drags him back to his housing area, stopping before the entrance of his house. No, not here. Turning around, he eyes the bench and sits down with a slight caution in his movement. With a confirming glint, he hums, scribbling down an abundance of diverse flower bouquets for people he had wanted to apologize to for awhile now, people who he’d wanted to finally rebuild and cross bridges with for ages, and the courage he had kept aside under lock and key has finally skyrocketed through the roof.
With a notepad, pen and the slight tinge of determination, he starts writing.