Chapter Text
The city is dead quiet.
Papers fly through the empty streets, carried by a gentle wind blowing silently. The air is hot, and the only sounds are their shoes on the concrete.
You'd think that after two years, they'd be used to it. But Tommy and Tubbo can never quite shake the wrongness of the feeling. There's always sound somewhere. Faint and distant, near and loud, it was never quiet like this.
But then again, the world itself was never like this.
The zombies took the planet by storm. Not even one country was spared. Because it seemed so utterly ridiculous, at first. Zombies? What's next, aliens? The governments laughed at the threat.
That's what tipped the balance.
Everyone, Tommy included, thought it'd be over in a few days. And every time he sets his eyes on an rusty car rotting on the side of the road, or the cracked walls outside of an empty office building, it's a painful reminder that it didn't.
It's scary how fast the world falls apart when there's no one to care for it.
They allowed the virus to spread, even beyond the point of no return. When they finally understood how bad the situation had gotten, it was too late. A third of the world population had already turned.
With no knowledge of how the virus spread or how to stop it, the military and civilians alike were overwhelmed. And soon, the societies collasped.
A lucky few knew how to survive and got far away from the cities. The others turned or died. Tubbo and Tommy were of the lucky ones.
They met two months after the beginning of the apocalypse, when Tubbo was looking for a place to sleep. He had learned that dumpsters were the safest places to settle down, with the heavy lid and the fact that zombies can't climb into it. He had finally found one after an hour of searching and was just about ready to get inside, and so he opened it.
Apparently he wasn't the first to think of that.
A baseball bat flew out from the opening and Tubbo's head would've been turned to mush if he hadn't dodged a split second before. He drew out his tazer to protect himself and pointed it at the tall figure emerging from the dumpster, who did the same.
The empty alleyway resonated with their screams until the adrenaline word off and they gradually got quieter, and when they fully got a good look at each other - a tall boy with messy blond hair and braces he couldn't take off, and a babyface brown-haired boy with with a green shirt way too big for him -, they let out a chuckle which soon turned into a fit of laughter, both from relief and of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.
Tommy graciously allowed Tubbo to sleep next to him, and since both of them were traveling alone before, they decided to team up.
They haven't left each other's side for almost two years now, closer than anything that could've imagined. And in this world, a best friend is a thing worth protecting. Because surviving is one thing, but what do you do when you have no one to keep fighting for?
A few days ago, Tubbo noticed they were getting low on supply, so so Tommy suggested that the next town they came across they'd go grocery shopping. And by shopping, they mean rummaging through the trash and vacanted houses to find some non-perishable food or emergency kits. They'd only stay a couple of days though, as if the deads aren't quick, their pace is still steady.
They set camp close by, in an abandoned treehouse in someone's backyard, and began their search.
They meet a few zombies roaming the streets, but they're already rotting so badly that a swift hit from Tommy's bat takes care of the problem. He even manages to send a head flying.
After a few hours of looting habitations and mostly empty stores, they get what they need and start heading back towards the treehouse.
The silence is irking Tommy, so he starts rambling as usual, saying nothing important, just noise to fill the air. And usually, Tubbo doesn't mind. He's grateful for the distraction and just listens to the taller boy chattering away, occasionally adding a comment or two.
But, this time, he's being quieter than usual. The other stops talking for a second, anxiety creeping in the back of his mind.
Suddenly, a terrified yelp catches Tommy's attention.
He snaps his head to the side, hoping to get a good view of what's happening, but blood drains from his face when he understands where it came from.
About three feet behind him, Tubbo is shaking a severed zombie head off of his legs. Blood darkens the fabric of the pants and he can see holes in the cloth where the teeth pierced through it.
He rushes over to his friend's side, drawing his baseball bat and smashing the head to a rotten pulp. Tubbo falls down shaking, holding his leg in pain. His eyes are wide and he's hyperventilating, mute from the shock. His eyes are shining with tears that soon roll down his cheeks.
Tommy rushes to his side, getting him up on his good leg. "Tubbo! What the fuck happened?"
The other doesn't respond.
"Fuck-"
He slides his backpack over to his chest. He kneels down in front of Tubbo, and the boy hops on Tommy's back. He secures his legs with his arms and starts sprinting (as much as you can call running with two backpacks and a best friend on your back 'sprinting').
Almost tripping a few times, he still somehow ends up in the treehouse without a problem. He... doesn't really remember how. It's a blur.
Doesn't matter. No time to think of it now.
He cleans Tubbo's wound to avoid infection and bandages it as best as he can, then hands him a water bottle.
Tubbo silently takes it, emptying it quickly. Tommy finally sits down next to him with a sigh, back against the wall.
"Too tight?" He asks, pointing to the bandage. "Does it hurt? I can do it again."
"Nah. But even if it did, we shouldn't waste gauze on someone who's gonna die anyways." Tubbo mutters, tense.
"Shut the fuck up, man." Tommy lightly punches Tubbo in the arm, hoping he didn't notice the slight crack in his voice. "You're not gonna die. You're gonna be fine."
Tubbo huffs. "I'm bit, Tommy. Wh- What else do you think is going to happen?" He hugs his knees in defeat. "We've never seen anybody get bit and not turn."
"Oh, come on," Tommy whisper-shouted in frustration. "We've seen like, what, seven people total? In two years?" He stares at Tubbo, waiting for a response, but the other boy avoids his gaze, his face hidden in his knees.
The blond groans. He stands up without a word and takes the supplies out of the two backpacks. A bunch of canned food, about two meters of rope, clean cloth, rubbing alcohol, and an old gun with a single bullet.
He sighs. Way too little reward for this expensive of a cost.
Why did he have to suggest to go here in the first place? They would've been fine for a couple more days, anyways!
It's like last time all over again-
No. He shakes his head to focus on what's in front of him. He avoided talking, thinking about it until now. Not gonna start now.
He's gotta be strong for Tubbo. Tubbo who has pretty much given up, right about now. So he's gotta be his rock.
He knows Tubbo will be fine. He just has to convince him too.
"Any weird symptoms, like feelin' bity yet?" He jokes, trying to distract both of them.
Tubbo huffs again, fighting a smile. "Nah. It just hurts like bloody hell. Although..." He carefully sets down his palm on the bandage. "...It doesn't hurt as much as before. Like how you'd feel after taking painkillers, y'know?"
Tommy breathes out in relief. "Yeah, alright. That's good news, at least." Tubbo nods, his eyes getting less red and puffy. A small smile appears on the blond's face at the sight.
"Anyways. You hungry? It is getting kinda late," he notes. "We have, uuuuhh... Soup? Tomato soup?" The other nods and Tommy takes out two cans. They sit next to each other.
The soup is room temperature, but they can't exactly make a fire in a wooden treehouse, or get down to start one on the ground - it would defeat the purpose of staying in the treehouse in the first place. So, they just decide to drink the damn soup straight from the can.
It's silent again, but although it's not an uncomfortable silence, Tommy still feels the need to fill the air. "Tubs, I've been thinking."
"Who are you and what did you do with Tommy?" Tubbo snickers, earning himself a light punch in the arm.
"Shut the fuck up," he pouts, putting on a fake offended expression. "Anyways- I've been thinkin'. We've never discussed long-term goals, like, what we've been surviving for. What's- What's your endgame, dude?" He looks at Tubbo with genuine curiosity, waiting for his answer.
"Hmm." The boy lightly taps his chin, deep in thoughts. "Uh, well, there is one thing. But..." He looks away, slightly embarrassed. "You're gonna laugh at me if I tell you."
Tommy sighs. "If I tell you mine first, would it make you feel better about it?" He asks.
The other chuckles. "Only if it's also embarrassing."
He smiles in return. "Okay." The blond straightens up and soon, his eyes stare off in the distance as he thinks.
"I have a brother. Name's Wilbur. A prick, really. But we were like best friends before he left for the army, around a month and a half before everything went to shit." He closes his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.
"He... gave me a disk. Old stuff, vinyl one. And he said that if I managed to find a vinyl record and listened to the disk before he came back, he'd owe me something. Anything I wanted."
He lets out a small, dry laugh. "And I'll be damned if I let that opportunity go to waste, y'know. I haven't carried a goddamn vinyl disk during a fucking zombie apocalypse to give up before I reach that goal."
He breathes out sharply, regaining his composure. He stares off in silence until a voice startles him.
"I want to see a swarm of bees again."
He turns towards Tubbo, who just spoke. The brown-haired boy is looking right back. Tommy nods at him to elaborate, and he does.
"My family has - well, had - a farm," Tubbo continues. "We'd keep livestock, harvest crops, but my favorite part were the beehives. My uncle was a beekeeper, and he lived with us. He brought the bees with him."
He smiles fondly. "He taught me everything he knew. We'd spend whole afternoons taking care of the swarms, and I liked it so much I wanted to be a beekeeper myself, when I had to start working."
"After the outbreak started, I swore to myself that before I died, I'd see a swarm again. For nostalgia's sake, I guess." He chuckles nervously, tensing slightly. "Told you it was embarrassing."
A fond smile grows on Tommy's face. "It's not. I think it's a nice goal." Tubbo relaxes at the words and lets out a sigh. A small smile appears on his face as well.
"How are you feeling now?" Tommy asks after what feels like about ten minutes. "You don't seem in much pain now."
Tubbo nods. "Yeah, the pain is pretty much gone. It may not be a good thing but, y'know. I'm too tired to complain."
They both chuckle. Yeah, not being in pain isn't something to resent. It's been a while since either of them hasn't been plagued by at least a big bruise or a cut somewhere inconvenient.
The blond opens his mouth to add something, but Tubbo leans on his shoulder, eyes closed and breathing steadily. His body is just the right warmth - so no fever - and his face is relaxed.
He wasn't lying when he said he was tired.
Tommy gently gets into a more comfortable position and closes his eyes as well, getting sleepier by the minute thanks to the sound of Tubbo's breathing. The light gets dimmer and dimmer, and soon the soft moonlight fills the treehouse.
Outside is quiet. Maybe the zombies are just too far away, but he can't hear any grunt, moan or scream. He feels safe, for the first time in a while. In this little treehouse, with his best friend.
They're both safe. They have each other.
Maybe it won't be like last time.
Maybe it'll be okay.