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"Wilbur! I found out how to make you my brother!"
Tommy's standing in his doorway, chest puffed out and hands on his hips in a pose that emanates pure pride. Wilbur sits up straighter from where he'd been lounging on his bed, guitar in hand as he'd been working on a new tune. Tommy's been on a kick lately about finding a way into the family, as though he hadn't been living with them since Wilbur found him in the woods a few months ago. As though Wilbur didn't give him his name. As though he didn't go to sleep each night either on the sofa or sharing someone's bed, usually Tubbo's. Wilbur would still humor him though, the little rascal always had something up his sleeve.
"Go on then." He urges, setting the guitar to the side of him as Tommy scampers in now that he's gotten permission. The boy heaves himself up onto the bed, swaying for a moment before he retains his balance and he grins brightly as he gets back into the same pose.
"I'm gonna marry Tubbo! Then you'll be my brother too, plus I get a wife!"
Wilbur can't help the burst of laughter that escapes him at Tommy's plan, it caught him off guard completely. "Tubbo's a boy, Tommy. He'd be a husband. Plus you should only marry someone if you love them, you'll have to spend the rest of your life with them after all." The blond boy isn't deterred at all, his grin only seeming brighter.
"Then it still works! Me and Tubbo are gonna live together forever anyways, so it's like we already planned it! I'm gonna get a husband!"
"Does Tubbo know you've decided he's betrothed to you now? What if he doesn't want to?"
That earns him a scowl, and Tommy hops off the bed and tugs on Wilbur's hand til the teen reluctantly lets himself be nagged into following. "I'll prove it! No way Tubbo wouldn't wanna be my wife, who wouldn't?"
"Husband, Tommy." Wilbur corrects again, but Tommy's off, yanking Wilbur behind him, his small hand wrapped around a couple of fingers. He's led all throughout the house, and out the door, once they've determined Tubbo isn't inside. Tubbo's in the front yard encircled in wildflowers. On his head sits a delicate circlet made up of a variety of wildflowers, the sizes and colors changing drastically with each segment, clearly made with no pattern in mind. His tiny fingers are stained green, and a second flower crown is in his hands, nearly finished.
"Hi Tommy, hi Wilbur." he greets them both with a bright smile, looking up from his work for just a moment before focusing again, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth out of habit as he worked on completing the last connection. "Done! Look, do you like it?" He holds out the flower crown towards them, Wilbur leaning down to admire his hard work, but Tommy's too distracted with his own thoughts to pay much attention. The blond boy lets go of Wilbur and stands in front of Tubbo, hands back on his hips.
"Tubbo! I'm gonna marry you so we can be together forever, got it?"
The brunette blinks slowly, taking in the declaration and processing it for a moment before his grin matches Tommy's. "Okay! Since we're married, will you wear the crown I made?" He holds out the newly made flower crown, but Tommy shakes his head violently, curls bouncing as they get whipped around.
"No way, bugs like flowers, what if there's a secret spider in one of them and it bites my head!"
"There's not! Spiders are good guys, they eat the bad bugs, you're not a bad bug."
Tommy's mind is made up though, his arms are folded in front of him and he's got his nose high in the air. "I'm not letting you put bugs in my hair, wife or not!" Tubbo's lip wobbles and Wilbur's well-versed enough in Tubbo's expressions to know he needs to step in. He crouches down and holds his hands out to Tubbo, gently grasping the delicate crown.
"Well if it's up for grabs, I think this crown would be quite the accessory for my outfit today. Don't you think so, Tubbo?" He smiles in relief when Tubbo's pout disappears and the boy nods and hands over the crown. It's a bit too small, but Wilbur's curls help it stay in place as he gingerly places it on his head, Tubbo clapping in excitement as they match. Tommy's checked back into the conversation and he's grabbing for Tubbo's hand, his jealousy plain as day.
"Come on Tubs, let's go pick out where we'll do the marriage, and then we can make Phil say the stuff and you'll be my, my hisband!" The older boy relents, letting Tommy pull him to his feet and then they're off, running into the backyard, a couple of petals drifting down from Tubbo's crown as he hurries behind Tommy. Wilbur debates calling out the correction but decides against it, laying down in the grass and closing his eyes as he listens to the two boys giggling get further away.
Tubbo's ignoring him. He's kept it up all morning, which honestly is impressive on its own, but Tommy's had just about enough. It's his own fault, and he knows it, but his stubborn streak keeps him acting like nothing's bothering him. It'd be done and over with if he'd just apologize, it's simple as that.
But he doesn't, so Tubbo doesn't look his way. Tubbo's sat on the sofa next to Techno, who's reading to him from some war book Tommy can't remember the name of. He's been there for ages, curled into the older man who let him do as he liked. When Tommy tries to stroll by casually Techno cuts his eyes at him in a way that sends the boy scurrying away quickly. The damned pig never took his side.
It's driving him crazy. He can't focus on anything, can't play music or read, anything he tries to do Tommy gives up on minutes later because all he can think about is how much more fun it'd be if Tubbo was playing with him. Wilbur kicked him out of his room after only a few minutes because he wouldn't stop whining about Tubbo, and Phil wouldn't be home until sundown.
It was becoming increasingly apparent that if Tommy didn't apologize he might be on his own for the next few hours. He takes another patrol around the living room, pouting when he sees that Tubbo's eyes are shut and he's got a blanket half-thrown over him now. Techno's still droning on, barely sparing Tommy a glance this time when he passes by.
Tommy storms off to his room, collapsing onto his bed and kicking his feet in frustration. He tantrums so hard he tires himself out, and when he wakes up Tubbo has been set next to him and they've curled towards each other in their sleep. Tubbo's face is inches from his, and Tommy watches as he stirs and closed eyes open to reveal tired gray ones staring at him.
"Sorry Tubs." His voice is but a mumble but it's enough. Tubbo smiles and nods, and when Tommy scrambles out of bed to go play Tubbo follows right behind him.
The house is filled with noise, and Tubbo is ignoring all of it and adding his own. Techno is over and he and Phil are chatting loudly in the kitchen as they cook, Wilbur's workshopping his new song on the piano in the living room, and closed off in his own room is Tubbo. He's plucking away at his ukulele, sitting in the window nook and staring out at the rain that's been nonstop since morning.
He's always been good at drowning out his surroundings. In his little world, it's just him, his ukulele, and the rain. It stays that way until his door is slammed open, and in stomps Tommy, his curls sopping wet and sticking to his forehead. Tubbo stares at him from his spot by the window, locked in a staring contest until a well-placed droplet runs down Tommy's face and he scrunches his eye shut unconsciously. "Fuck," Tommy groans, accepting the loss and rubbing his eyes and attempting to wipe the dripping hair out of his face which only succeeds in smushing his fringe together on one side and creating a rivulet down his temple.
"You look wet," Tubbo states the obvious, trying hard not to burst out laughing at the annoyed look it earns him. Tommy grumbles, walking over to their shared closet and rummaging through it. "Make sure you grab your own clothes this time." He calls out, earning him a scoff and another look as Tommy sticks his head out to glare at him.
"You wear my clothes all the time, fuck off!"
"I can fit in them, dumbass. You're too tall, you'll just cry about your stomach being visible again if you take one of my shirts."
Tommy's reply is a grumble under his breath, he knows full well Tubbo's right but damned if he'll admit it. With clothes clutched in one hand, he makes his way back to the door, flipping Tubbo the bird before exiting.
"Bye Tommy," Tubbo says with a giggle, his head turning back to the window beside him. He's back to his own little world for a while until he's disturbed by the same boy once more, now looking much drier, minus the damp curls that still sat flat on his head. Tommy nudges him hard until Tubbo relents and scoots over to make room in the little nook, a chill running through him as his right arm presses into the cold glass.
Tommy sits beside him, their sides pressed together as they struggle to fit on the same side. "Swear this damn window's gotten smaller." He huffs, fidgeting obnoxiously until Tubbo shifts and rests his shoulder on Tommy's chest, allowing him a bit more space as Tommy's arm naturally moves to rest on Tubbo's other shoulder.
"It's your own fault. You just keep growing. Remember when we used to fit here perfectly?" Tubbo asks, leaning his head back to rest partially on Tommy's shoulder. His hair tickles Tommy's chin, the taller boy pointedly looking away and ignoring the heat flooding his face.
"Can't stop me, Tubs. Gotta be tall to get the ladies, Wil says." They both laugh at that, and Tubbo starts to play one of Wilbur's songs. Tommy sings along, and Tubbo's little world expands just enough to add another. It's just him, his ukulele, the rain, and Tommy.
Tubbo starts his third life with scars. Tommy's heard stories of people dying in a first or second life so brutally that their body bares the evidence even in their next life, but this is the first time he's seen it himself. It's horrific. Half of Tubbo's body is littered with red puffy scarring, mostly healed enough through his rebirth to not need to be bandaged. You'd almost think it all happened a couple of weeks ago, instead of last night.
Wilbur and Techno are gone, Tommy doesn't care to even try and find them. He knows they're probably plotting together, having decided that apparently, L'Manberg is no longer worth the effort they've put in to save anymore. Tommy thinks otherwise, but he's not sure if anyone else agrees any longer.
Niki is asleep on Wilbur's old cot on an upper level of the ravine. She gave up on waiting for Wilbur to save her and saved herself in the end, escaping to Pogtopia with the rest of them after the aftermath of the festival. Tubbo had passed out shortly after they reconvened, Niki had assured Tommy that he just needed the extra rest after everything that happened. She and Tommy had split watch duty last night, deciding someone should be up just to make sure Tubbo was ok. She had taken the first half and sat next to Tommy's cot where Tubbo laid and said nothing when Tommy crawled in next to the other boy to sleep.
Tubbo wakes with a start, his entire body jolting and his hands going up to cover his face. The pose is instantly familiar and Tommy's heart sinks as he reaches out to him. "You're okay," His voice is just above a whisper, not wanting to wake Niki. Tubbo's eyes are wild, scanning over Tommy and his hold on Tubbo's arms, taking a moment before it fully registers who it is. "You're okay, Tubs," Tommy repeats, gently pulling Tubbo's arms down to rest on the bed again.
Tommy's hands slide down from where they rested on Tubbo's arms and cup his palms. They're both rougher than Tommy remembers, and he knows if he looks at them they'll both be mottled with scars from him trying to shield himself from the fireworks. He moves to lace their fingers and his breath catches as he feels there's something different. One of Tubbo's ring fingers is missing, only the first knuckle's worth still there. A middle finger is shorter too, half-gone. He hadn't even thought to check.
"I had such a terrible dream, Tommy," Tubbo's voice is scratchy and rough, blinking hard as he tries to fight the tears that begin to immediately well up. Tubbo's clutching at his hands tightly, but his eyes are still on Tommy's face, blinking hard to clear his vision and setting loose the tears that started to stream down his cheeks. "I was trapped, and it was hot. And, there, there were so many colors. All I could see were colors."
Their entire world is on fire. Literally. It's hours past the height of their doomsday, but the TNT machines are still dropping explosives into the hole that was once their everything. Tubbo is sat on the edge of the crater, where he's been since sunset. He'd given up a lot earlier than Tommy did. "Hey Tubs," His voice is filled with nerves, and the lack of response does nothing to settle them. Tubbo doesn't react, but at this point Tommy can't bring himself to care. Tommy sits next to him, letting his legs dangle onto the cliff face with Tubbo, and he looks down.
There's almost nothing recognizable anymore, what isn't obscured with smoke is already rubble. Rock and wood everywhere, smoke wafting up from half-charred remains of the houses that once stood here. It's gone deep enough now that the booms aren't deafening, though they still bounce off the newly formed crater walls and fill the night with a constant reminder of what continues.
Tubbo hasn't looked away from it since he'd sat down. Tommy can hardly make himself look at it any longer, so he turns to look at Tubbo's weary face. How long has it been since they've sat together like this? Tommy doesn't even know what day it is, he'd lost all sense of time during exile and even once he was back to civilization he's had much more pressing matters than finding out if it's still December or not.
There's nothing left for him here. He's broken it, killed it, destroyed it all. Either on his own or through the repercussions of his actions. It's his fault, he's sure of it. Maybe if he'd just accepted that, L'Manberg would still be here. Or maybe it would still be a smoke-filled hole in the ground. Everyone abandoned it even after Tommy was gone. The only people who fought for it, in the end, were himself and Tubbo. And they're the only ones still here, sitting by their dying country's side. They'll watch it breathe its last breath together, just as they watched it take its first. He feels something touch his hand and when he checks he sees Tubbo's hand has found its way to his, the small scarred fingers pressing into the top of his own.
He grabs Tubbo's hand. His grip is loose, just in case he's got it all wrong and Tubbo doesn't want any contact with him. Tubbo turns his hand in his grip so their palms press together, and their fingers interlock. There's an almost empty space where Tubbo's ring finger should be, absentmindedly Tommy nudges the small nub that remained into place, slotted between his own digits. Tommy's gaze turns back to the crater in front of him, and his eyes follow a pack of TNT as it's dispensed. It's out of his sight before it gets the chance to explode.
Tommy is on his fourth life, something no one thought existed until about a week ago. But here he is, with haunted eyes and a white streak running through his curls. And there Tubbo is, with a little piglin child holding one hand and that enderman fucker holding the other. A lot's changed since Tommy got stuck in the prison. Tubbo's surrounded with love, as he should be. And Tommy, Tommy's alone again.
Exile part 2, once again courtesy of Dream. Tubbo won't allow it this time though, Tommy can't even get a few feet away without the ram sneaking after him. He's not even trying to be subtle about it, any time Tommy turns his head Tubbo's there, leaning against a tree or peeking through a door or window at him. Tommy would be mad if it didn't make his heart ache so much.
"Tubbo, if you're gonna fucking follow me around you might as well just come here and help me." He's in the process of replanting his garden, and Tubbo is peeking down at him from the walkway that partially covered his farm rows. The ram jolts in surprise, but he kicks his shoes off and rolls up his pants, and hops down to join him, water sloshing onto the mounds of dirt as Tubbo lands in the irrigation row.
Tubbo holds out his good hand and Tommy fills it with seeds, and they work together in silence for a while. Tommy makes the holes and Tubbo fills them, working in sync as they've done countless times before. They're on to the next row before Tubbo finally speaks. "It's weird being married. I thought it'd feel a lot different but nothing's really changed. Remember when we were kids, and you wanted to make me your bride?" His tone is light, but Tommy knows better. He's smiling at Tommy like everything's fine and he wasn't married to someone else and Tommy wasn't a corpse five days ago.
"Nope." Of course he does. He thinks about it all the time. Every time Tubbo looks at him, really looks at him, and they share a smile or a laugh and it sends a thrill through Tommy. Every time he's held his hand, or shared a bed, or wiped a tear. It was an eventuality, in his mind. He didn't think he had a time limit.
"Oh, well, you did. At one point." Tubbo's voice is clipped and his eyes are cast downward at the soil again. Light glints off the golden band around his left horn and Tommy squints and turns his eyes away. They both go quiet again, working methodically, moving to the next row. Tommy's got dirt under his fingernails and his back is warmed by the sun beating down on them and he's never felt more alive and dead at the same time.
"Tom."
Tubbo never calls him that. It's always Tommy, or dickhead, or dude, never Tom. He looks up from the farm and feels his throat get tight as he watches tears well in eyes he knew better than his own. "I'm sorry. I should've tried harder, to get you out of there. I thought Sam would- I thought he- I never," He cuts himself off with a garbled sob and the seeds are dropped into the water as he rushes to hide his face in his hands. "I never thought I'd actually lose you," his words are muffled and stilted but Tommy understands it all.
He's climbing over the farm rows before he realizes what he's doing, clambering into the same irrigation row as Tubbo and pulling him into his arms. Their feet brush together under the water, the rolled-up hems of their pants getting soaked as Tommy's fast movements splash them both. "You won't, Tubbo. You'll never lose me," He's clutching at his back, at his head, at curled brown locks as he presses Tubbo into his chest. "Nothing can keep me away from you. Not L'Manberg, not exile, not you getting married. Not even death."