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Tubbo felt strange before he even opened his eyes.
The world was... louder, for one thing. It rung perfectly clear, the whistle of wind, too close. Like there was barely anything between him and the outside. It was cold, freezing even. All his limbs were prickling with the cold, and shifting did nothing to warm them. The movement only increased the feeling of wrong-ness.
Careful, cautious, Tubbo opened his eyes. Dirt walls. His heart rate picked up. His vision...
Had he respawned? It was like his injuries from the fireworks were gone. But that didn't make sense, he was on his last life, and he carried the scars over last time he died. Tubbo reached up with a hand that felt too large and felt his face.
No burn. Clear vision in both eyes. However, there were still scars underneath his fingertips, not ones he knew from himself. No horns in his hair, which was blonde again. It hadn't been blonde in years. He sat up, limbs stretching out far past where he expected his elbows and knees to be. A familiar red and white shirt. It clicked.
"How the fuck am I Tommy?" Tubbo said, listening to Tommy's voice fill the room.
He swung his feet to the floor, reaching sooner than he thought. Tommy was sleeping with three pairs of socks on, which made sense considering how fucking cold the room was. Tubbo automatically crossed the room to put some coal in the furnace, mind working frantically.
Okay. He was in Tommy's body. This was a problem. But this could be solved. Figure out the source, reverse it, get back to normal life.
The idea of normal life sent a hilarious shot to his brain, which Tubbo ignored with ease. No worrying about that right now. Worrying about solving his immediate problem.
Tubbo stood in the middle of Tommy's shitty dirt house in Tommy's body as he shook with cold and maybe terror. His heart pounded a weird, unknown rhythm, like it was getting used to its new host. He'd been in this house a million times, and it was beyond strange to see everything from almost a foot higher.
Problem solving. Not enjoying being tall. Tubbo looked everywhere for Tommy's communicator, but he couldn't find it. In fact, his inventory was completely empty and there wasn't an Ender chest present. No armour. No weapons.
"How the fuck can you live like this?" Tubbo bemoaned, thinking of his own inventory, of his nukes, of his protections. Never wanting to be caught unaware, never wanting to be unable to strike back. There was no protection, it was like...
Tubbo stared down at Tommy's hands as they shook, with the criss-cross of old scars from old battles. Some he remembered Tommy getting and even bragging about. But now, most he didn't.
While Tubbo could appreciate full sight and hearing again, he was aware that Tommy's body didn't come with its own downsides. First of all, he was standing directly in front of the furnace and it was doing absolutely nothing to make him any warmer. Secondly, he hurt. There was ambient pain in his joints every time he moved, and there was an intolerable ache in his stomach. Tubbo wouldn't call it hunger, it felt like something else. Something completely unnameable, like nothing he'd ever experienced himself.
Tubbo went through the chests and ate some bread. He pulled on Tommy's shoes and tied them, leaving all three pairs of socks on, even though it squished his toes. There were a few clothing items, ratting and patched with Tommy's careful stitches, and Tubbo decided on the long blue coat with the sheep skin inside and dark cuffs and collar.
Sitting on the top was a very dirty green bandana. Years and years ago, they'd traded colours. Tubbo had stopped wearing the red when he'd exiled his best friend. Tubbo didn't know when Tommy had stopped wearing it, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen it.
Here it was, sitting with all his other clothing. Like Tommy might just pick it up and wear it again, waiting for the chance. Tubbo ran his thumb, Tommy's thumb, over a little nick in the fabric. There was a particularly dark dirt patch --
Blood. There was old, dried blood. It had been scratched away as best it could by what looked like a fingernail, but still stubbornly stained into the green.
Tubbo felt ill. He set the bandana down and closed the chest.
The cold remained even with the jacket and Tubbo burning a second furnace. The pain in his stomach remained even with the bread. Tubbo stared into the flickering burning coal for almost way too long, running through scenarios in his head. Solutions. Nothing seemed obvious.
He knew he'd have to go to Snowchester. It didn't take long to deduce that hundreds of blocks away, his best friend would be waking up in a body a foot shorter. Hopefully Ranboo was understanding. Tubbo knew he should get moving, he should make the trek across the tundra and start to figure this out with Tommy and probably Ranboo. They'd get it sorted between the three of them.
But Tubbo couldn't move. He was so cold. And his legs could barely support him. He sat on the dirt floor, pulling his knees up and pressing them into his sore stomach. This body hurt. It just... hurt.
Tubbo hadn't had a normal conversation with Tommy in longer than he could remember. He still loved his best friend, he loved him more than absolutely fucking anything. He loved him so much it hurt, hurt more than this aching body he was in. It was this painful, horrible thing, riddled with guilt and anger and fear. Guilt for what he'd done. Anger for what Tommy had done. Fear that he would lose him. Constant, unrelenting fear.
He didn't get up for a long time because he was a smart guy, and he knew that in order to fix this, he'd need to talk to Tommy.
It wasn't as if he'd been avoiding Tommy. Hell, sometimes he could barely stand to let Tommy out of his sight. It was just...
Well. Tubbo never claimed to be particularly well-adjusted with his own emotions. Or anyone else's, really.
Eventually Tubbo got back on his feet. He shuffled through Tommy's chests and found a sword to stuff in his inventory. It wasn't named anything, so obviously this wasn't where he was keeping his real stash. Just an iron sword. It would do against mobs.
Tubbo extinguished the furnaces and left the dirt hut. It was overcast and windy, the cold seemingly cutting him right to the core as if he hadn't spent hours in front of the furnace. The world seemed dreary, even with the crystal-clear vision of both eyes. Tubbo took a slow, deep breath from the bottom of his ribs and started home.
He didn't particularly want to run into anyone and have to explain himself, but couldn't avoid other members completely. Niki and Jack passed him at one point, and Tubbo ducked his head, wanting to avoid conversation.
He didn't need to worry. They did not engage with him. They did, however, glare at him. Poisonous and angry. Niki scoffed when he ducked his head.
Tubbo felt his stomach sink, as if it was him getting scorn. But it wasn't. It merely the sight of Tommy. Jack's distant voice, no attempt to temper, "I'm so sick of him."
His stomach stayed somewhere in his toes. Sore. Stepped on.
He wanted to whirl around and tear them apart for speaking like that to Tommy. He wants to claw his insides out and bear Tommy's still beating, lovely heart and say, 'don't you see? Why can't you see him?'.
But that wasn't fair, was it? Tubbo didn't know everything, especially not everything about Tommy, no matter how much he tried. He bit his tongue.
Tubbo felt like all his bones were heavy lead the colder the climate got, the closer to Snowchester he walked. He thought painfully of the warm wood stove waiting for him on the other side, with blankets and his family. Home. Tubbo wanted to go home.
It crested the horizon, the clouds hugging the edges of his home, softening the blow. A breath left his lips, numb. So much better than a dirt hut, empty and alone.
Tubbo forgot himself for a moment, about to call out for his husband, before he remembered his situation. He hesitated. Did he want to explain to Ranboo before he'd even seen Tommy?
Instead of calling out, he let himself in the front door without announcement. Tommy usually shouted his entrance up the stairs, but Tubbo stayed quiet, surveying the afternoon scene. The fire was burning, nice and toasty inside. In the kitchen, he could hear Ranboo speaking, then Michael's faint giggles.
Tubbo considered his options and crept upstairs. Their bed was empty. Tubbo's sleep clothes were on the floor. He wasn't here. Hopefully Tommy didn't freak out when he woke up with Ranboo. They had separate blankets and everything, but still. Sharing a bed would be a shock if you weren't expecting it.
Tommy wasn't found in any of the other rooms. Tubbo admitted defeat and crept back downstairs, trying to get a view on the kitchen without revealing himself.
Ranboo was wearing an apron and was showing Michael how to mash apples. His son was doing so with a good amount of enthusiasm, babbling in Piglin with the occasional 'Boo' thrown in. Tommy was not there either.
Fuck it. Tubbo crept away, unseen, and set himself in front of the wood stove to warm up. He was freezing. Even with three pairs of socks it was like he was walking around barefoot, all the nerve ending in his toes gone and lighting up a numb pin and needle feeling with every step.
"Tommy." Ranboo said, surprised. He was leaning around from the kitchen entrance, where Tubbo had just been standing.
Tubbo opened his mouth to reply. He wanted to say, 'try again, bossman.' He wanted to say, 'is that any way to greet your husband?'. He wanted to say, 'about that, actually'.
His tongue sealed to the top of his mouth and no sound escaped. A minor panic passed his body, silenced, and struggled with the feeling.
"Tommy?" Ranboo repeated, with a nervous worry. He placed down the flour covered dishcloth and stepped forward, hesitant. Like he wasn't sure he was welcome. It was odd for Tubbo to experience, because he and Ranboo had always understood each other on a fundamental level. There was no hesitance. There was just... understanding. And sometimes he hated what he understood about Ranboo, but that didn't matter. He was sure Ranboo hated some of the things he understood about Tubbo too.
But Ranboo didn't think he was looking at Tubbo. He thought he was looking at Tommy. A Tommy, who from this perspective, snuck into their house without his usual loud announcement, stood silently in front of the fire, and likely had some visible panic on his face when confronted.
Tubbo tried again. He couldn't talk about the body swap. Could he talk about something else? He opened his mouth and said, "You're putting too much cinnamon in the filling."
"Oh." Ranboo said, like he had absolutely no idea how to reply to that. That was fair.
Tubbo could talk, then. He tried again, just for a little more evidence, to ask Ranboo if he'd ever heard of body swapping. His tongue remained frozen to the roof of his mouth. Nope. It unstuck the moment he said, "Are you doing a criss-cross pattern on the top?"
"Don't you have to? Legally?" Ranboo asked, hesitant still. Very hesitant, like he was addressing a wild animal.
"I think so." Tubbo nodded, satisfied. Alright. So, his husband couldn't help him.
"Um. Tubbo's not here, by the way." Ranboo offered.
That should've been Tubbo's first guess, in hindsight. Tommy woke up in Tubbo's body. Of course he'd run. Especially if he was equally incapable of telling Ranboo what was going on. "Where is he?"
"I'm not sure. He left early; I haven't actually seen him." Ranboo rubbed the back of his neck.
"Hm." Tubbo contemplated his options. "Okay. Thanks."
"Do you... do you need something?" Ranboo ventured, when Tubbo didn't move.
"No." Tubbo said.
"Okay. I'm just gonna..." Ranboo trailed off, awkward, gesturing back to the kitchen.
Tubbo waved him away. He stayed in front of the fire for a while, thinking. If he had his communicator, he'd message Tommy. But he had no idea where it was. If he borrowed Ranboo's and messaged him, would he reply? Maybe not. Ranboo seemed pretty awkward with who he thought was Tommy. Tubbo had hoped they'd get along better by now. Maybe that was wishful thinking.
He heard Ranboo and Michael giggle from the kitchen. He wanted to go join them. But he wasn't Tubbo right now. He was Tommy. And Tommy didn't really feel welcome -- not really. Not really anywhere.
It was a pit in his stomach. Fingers still trembling with the unrelenting chill in his body, Tubbo trekked back out into the snow.
Tommy wasn't hard to find. There was only one new set of footprints going off into the snow, up the hill and out of sight. Tubbo tried to match his steps but his too-long legs had a stride larger than his own body's.
It wasn't too far from the house. It looked like he'd fled but then hadn't any further ideas what to do, and just settled at the base of a tree. He was staring at his communicator.
Seeing his own body in third person made his mind hurt and it took a minute to adjust. It was kind of like meeting a stranger in a rather uncanny valley way. Short, much shorter from Tommy's height. Curly brown hair hanging almost completely over his eyes, with horns poking out. A fluffy parka and peeks of scars on his skin. Then he looked up and froze, likely experiencing the same bizarre emotion Tubbo was.
"You didn't tell me your hearing was shit." Tommy said, eventually. Hesitant, gauging the waters.
You didn't tell me you were constantly freezing, Tubbo thought but didn't say. Tommy would get defensive. He would deny it, even though Tubbo could feel it down to his bones. Instead, he said, "I get by."
"And your hair gets in the way when you're already down most of an eye." Tommy said, pulling his fluffy bangs up to look over properly.
"I get by." Tubbo repeated, and walked over to join him, hoping in futile that if he pressed his back against the tree, it might cut the Snowchester wind. He waited for his tongue to lock, but it didn't, and he said to Tommy, "Do you have any idea how we switched bodies?"
"I was pretty hopeful you'd know." Tommy sighed, looking at the communicator in his hands. "You didn't reply."
"I've got no fucking idea where your comm is." Tubbo said.
Tommy's brow furrowed, then his face cleared, and he said in a weird tone, "Oh right. Uh. Sorry. I'll grab it for you later."
"Where is it?"
"Never mind." Tommy pocketed Tubbo's communicator. "So, what's the plan, then?"
Tubbo stared at his own face. It was weird. He wished he knew what the hell Tommy was thinking about, why he was being weird. He spent so long wishing he could be in Tommy's head. Now he was, and it wasn't any fucking help.
"Well, I was gonna get Ranboo to help, but I couldn't say anything to him about it." Tubbo said, listening to his own subtle cadence in Tommy's voice as he spoke. So weird.
"No?" Tommy asked.
Tubbo shook his head, suppressing a shiver as the wind whipped around the tree. "Tongue locked in place the moment I tried to mention body switching or that I wasn't you."
"Magic, then." Tommy concluded, sure, nodding confidently.
"Probably." Tubbo agreed, more hesitant. "But spontaneous? Just us? Why? And more importantly, how?"
"Dunno." Tommy said.
"What's the last thing you remember?"
"Going to bed last night."
"Did anything happen before that?"
"Nope. Normal night. What about your end? Maybe Ranboo cursed you in his sleep."
Tubbo thought that Tommy sounded weird again when he said that. But it was almost impossible to tell, because he was listening to Tommy talk to him in his own voice. Of course it was going to sound weird.
"Nothing out of the ordinary." Tubbo said, reluctant. "I didn't even go anywhere. I chopped some wood. That was the highlight."
Tubbo pulled the coat tighter around himself, drawing up Tommy's long legs and trying to hide his chattering teeth. Tommy glanced over at him with a small frown, then a dawn of understanding, and he stood up. "Come on, let's go back."
"We can't talk around Ranboo." Tubbo pointed out.
"Let's go get my communicator, then. We can talk on the way."
"Where's your communicator?" Tubbo asked.
Tommy offered a hand up. It was kind of funny when Tubbo took it and got to his feet, both of them seemingly forgetting for a minute that Tubbo would unfold taller limbs.
Tommy stared upwards at him, one milky eye through his fluffy bangs. He said, with characteristic bluntness, "This is fucked up."
Tubbo laughed, looking down. "I changed my mind, let's just stay like this."
"I think that would be for the best. I can't believe you live like this. I feel like someone's going to sneak up on me." Tommy said, waving a hand on the blind and deaf side.
"Wouldn't that mean you want to switch back?" Tubbo said, not following his train of thought.
Tommy's ears turned pink and he whacked Tubbo in the stomach. "Don't be stupid. I'd rather you could see. Anyway, let's get out of here. It's freezing."
Tommy didn't look cold, but Tubbo definitely was. He stopped arguing and the two retraced the path Tubbo had just craved footprints in the snow. The biome shifted back warmer, though Tubbo didn't get much better. Standing in front of the furnace or the stove did nothing anyway. It was like the cold lived inside him.
They retraced back towards Tommy's house. Tubbo felt his shoulders rise, wondering what would happen if they ran into Jack and Niki again. Tommy watched him in the corner of his right eye.
Tubbo complained as they reached the house, "I already checked everywhere."
"It's here." Tommy said, walking in and starting the furnace immediately. Then he broke a block in the floor and revealed a chest.
"Why isn't it in your inventory?" Tubbo said, annoyed, watching as Tommy fished out his communicator and handed it over. There were other things in the chest too, but he didn't get a glimpse before Tommy closed it and covered the block overtop again.
"You know how it is." Tommy said, evasive.
Tubbo was frustrated. "That wasn't even an Ender chest. Why hide your communicator in the floor? It doesn't do you any good there."
Tommy shrugged, picking at the edge of his horn, feeling the point with his finger. "Big man stuff."
Tubbo gave him a flat stare.
Tommy looked away. "I don't have a good answer for you, okay? Let's just move on. How are we going to swap back?"
"I thought you said we should just stay like this." Tubbo pointed out.
"Nah. It's not gonna do you any good to be me." Tommy turned away, muttering under his breath, "I don't want you to be cold and lonely."
Tubbo was obviously not mean to hear that. Tommy had not yet accustomed himself to the fact that with his hard of hearing ear, sometimes a volume he thought was low was actually loud enough for his conversation partner to hear.
Tubbo's eyes narrowed. There was a missing puzzle piece here. Something obvious that Tubbo wasn't thinking about. Tommy was in a weird mood, even for a body swap situation. Almost melancholy. Evasive answers, unusual amounts of self-deprecation. The communicator in the floor.
"I wouldn't be lonely." Tubbo said, deciding against being graceful and pretending he hadn't heard. "I have you."
Tommy froze, cringing, then sending Tubbo a wary smile that didn't look normal on Tubbo's scarred face. "I was kidding."
"No, you weren't." Tubbo denied. "And I'm not. You've got me. Forced body swap situation or not."
"I know, Tubbo." Tommy sat on his bed, tucking his short legs underneath himself and crossing his arms.
Tubbo was as close as he could be to the burning furnace without lighting his jacket on fire, but didn't move his eyes from his best friend. He thought about what to say next for a long minute. He knew if he talked about any certain number of topics, Tommy would get defensive. But they needed to be discussed.
He chose a careful path of conversation and started to lead Tommy down it, "I thought you knew about my vision, at least. It's kinda hard to hide when my eye looks like that."
"I mean, it's not surprising. But you never told me it was this bad. Let alone that you seriously can't hear out of this ear at all. That's really important to know." Tommy said, snapping in his left ear and grimacing.
"Why?" Tubbo said, as gently as he could. Careful.
"Because I could've done more. How many times have I walked on that side and you haven't heard me? Or if there's danger and I'm not watching that side for you?" Tommy said, annoyed, kicking at the dirt floor.
Tubbo gave a weak smile. Exactly where he wanted him. It didn't feel good. "So why didn't you tell me it was this cold?"
Tommy shut his eyes and sighed, resigned. "Yeah."
Tubbo waited for further elaboration, trembling back pressed as close as he could to the furnace.
"There's... there's just nothing you can do for that. Nothing makes it go away." Tommy said, in a small voice.
Way too small. It was sending alarm bells off in Tubbo's head, in fact. "Well, I know now. So we can try to make it better. I'm thinking more fur."
Tommy gave a small, broken laugh, and his arms wrapped around his stomach, hunched over.
Tubbo rather wanted to hug his stomach himself. The incessant pain. He almost didn't want to poke more, but said, "And the pain?"
"I was hoping you were avoiding that." Tommy said, in a dead voice. "Sorry. Sorry. We should switch back as soon as we can."
"When did that start?" Tubbo asked. Then stopped, immediately knowing the answer. "Oh."
"Yeah." Tommy shook his head. "I don't know. That body is fucked up ever since I came back."
"Is the pain constant too?"
"Yeah. But it's fine."
Tubbo thought about how 'fine' it really was when he said it was fine that he was hard of hearing and half blind from a firework. It wasn't fine at all. But it had to be, because it was his reality.
"I should've told you that I couldn't hear out that side but I don't like talking about it." Tubbo said, slowly. "I just wanted to... pretend it was normal. Not draw attention to it. Hide. Right?"
Tommy's jaw worked. He was staring at the dirt wall like it was particularly interesting. He agreed, with hollow weight, "Right."
"But that doesn't make it better. Just means I'm down a side and you don't know to help me." Tubbo had a bad hunch and he was kind of hoping he wasn't right.
"It's not the same." Tommy obviously knew the connections Tubbo was trying to make here. "Everything about it is different. The... what happened to you and what happened to me. You weren't supposed to be hurt."
Tubbo didn't understand. His brow furrowed tightly, hugging his elbows harder, and he said, "What, and you were?"
The thick and suffocating silence was his answer.
"It shouldn't have happened to you either." Tubbo spoke, voice hard. Curling around Tommy's vocal cords.
Tommy scoffed. He said, "Can we go back to figuring out how to switch back?"
"That's what I'm doing." Tubbo said, following his hunch. "What's in the chest, Tommy?"
Tommy stopped breathing for a second. Then he said, "What chest?"
"Come on." If Tubbo was right, then he was definitely not in the mood for any kind of playing dumb.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Joints aching, Tubbo rose on unsteady limbs and approached the block in the floor that Tommy had broken earlier to fetch his comm. He didn't make it, however, because Tommy scrambled off the bed and stood on top of it.
"No." Tommy said, something frantic in his voice.
That really only answered his question. Tubbo looked down at his best friend, such a bizarre role reversal, and he wished they were in their own bodies. He couldn't read his facial expression, not when put through his own blank face. Scarred, covered by his bangs. He really didn't leave much for reading.
Tubbo said, "You're only confirming what I've already guessed, boss man."
That was definitely a flash of panic. Tommy said, "Nothing to guess. Let's go find some other way to trade back."
"Do you know I prayed to Prime when you died?" Tubbo said, abrupt.
Tommy blinked in surprise, and said with no small measure of doubt, "You don't believe."
"But you do." Tubbo replied, instantly. "I just... I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to believe anymore. I didn't really think, but you always... it was something you put so much faith and heart into. I wanted to try and access that heart. And I prayed and asked if there was any way to save you, if I could only do it. I knelt on the ground and begged for you to come back."
"Tubbo..." Tommy was uncertain, but definitely not moving off the block on the floor.
Tubbo stepped closer. "And I lied when I said that I didn't do anything interesting last night. I prayed again. I'm still scared for you. I wanted to feel closer to you, to understand you. And I felt like I'd understand you better if I prayed to your god. Because I want us to be okay, Tommy. I want it so fucking bad. And I feel like you were lying too about what you were doing last night."
Tubbo looked at the block Tommy was standing on.
His best friend refused to move. "So pray for Prime to set us back to normal."
"Why a normal chest?" Tubbo asked. "You put your comm in a regular chest. Not your inventory, where it damn well should be so you can talk to me. Not in an Ender chest, the next safest place. No, a regular chest. Something anyone could open. But in the floor, where I'd look if I was searching after a while. Maybe if you were gone and I was looking for clues. I saw paper in there too. Is it a note--"
"I wasn't going to do it." Tommy interrupted in a burst then clapped his hands over his mouth. Then surged forward, urging Tubbo away from the block. "I swear, I wasn't, I just-- you're too damn smart, it's not like that, I promise. I wasn't."
Tubbo wasn't going to argue with Tommy about whether or not he was actually going to kill himself, or run away, or whatever the end result was. He just said, "But you were thinking about. You made enough plans that your comm was put away. That you have something written down for us to find. That's not..."
"I was just in pain." Tommy said, trying to sound cross and just having a weak thread in his voice instead. "I was just weak. It won't happen again."
Tubbo let Tommy crowd him away from the block and with the closer distance he held onto Tommy's wrists.
"I meant it. I'd do anything. I'll kneel on the ground right now and beg for you to stay."
"I'm not going to!" Tommy snapped. "It's not like that. I swear. I just..."
Tommy did not continue and elaborate what he 'just' was. Instead, his expression morphed into horror as Tubbo fell to his knees.
"Tubs." Tommy said, incredibly pained. "Stop."
"I want you to be okay." Tubbo said, not looking away, keeping his gaze blazing, keeping his fingers gripping Tommy's pulse points on his wrists. Tubbo's wrists. Because holding onto Tommy was the same thing as holding onto himself.
"I am okay." Tommy said, voice cracking. Bravado drained. One milky eye, both getting a little watery.
"No, you're not. You're cold and sore and lonely. I can feel you now. I should've done more before. I'm here now."
When Tommy blinked a single tear fell. He said, "Stop. Get up."
"I want you to be okay. I want us to be okay." Tubbo implored him.
"We're okay." Tommy rebuked immediately.
"No, we're not. Especially we're not if you are thinking like that and I don't know."
Tommy's knees finally gave out and he joined Tubbo on the floor. He frantically flipped his hands to hold on and bent his head into Tubbo's chest. He said, "I know you don't want to talk about what happened."
Tubbo's heart panged. He leaned into Tommy's collapse. He muttered, "I was scared if we talked about it that we'd find out we'd ruined it. But I'd rather talk about it than lose you completely. Even if I hate everything about it, I hate what I did to you. I hate that you were hurt and I can never take it back. I hate that there's parts I still would do again, if given the choice. And other parts that I'd rather die than ever do again. I hate that sometimes I can't tell them apart. I hate that I'm still missing you and you're right here."
"That's a lot of hate, big man." Tommy muttered into Tubbo's shirt.
Tubbo just squeezed his grip, waiting for the real answer.
Tommy eventually gave it, raising his head but not releasing the hold -- both of them gripping their forearms tightly. "I miss you too. I'd rather forgive you than live without you. And I know that I've fucked up everything I've ever had but I couldn't ever forgive myself if I fucked up with you too. It's always been you and me. I just... I know I hurt you. I know you hurt me. I know and I don't really care anymore. We both don't want to hurt each other going forward. That's true, right?"
"Right." Tubbo said, quietly.
"Then if we hold onto that, we'll be okay." Tommy said, puffing up his chest a little, putting a little more life into his voice.
"Okay." Tubbo agreed, watching carefully. "Are you really okay?"
"Yes, boss man."
"I don't believe you."
Tommy chuckled, and glanced backwards at the dirt floor. A block hiding a secret, one that Tubbo might not have ever known if not for the body swap. Tommy said, "I'm being serious, I really won't do anything. I had a moment of weakness. I don't know what I was thinking."
It was almost believable. The heart shards of regrets, the desire to go forward, the denial of any intentions.
But Tubbo had spent half the day in his body and frankly, he wanted to die a bit too. The pain and the cold was constant and unrelenting. The gnawing maw in his middle. The constant scorn of other server members. Cold, in pain, and alone. He couldn't exactly blame Tommy, not after everything.
There was no way Tommy would admit that. His wall was up and it definitely wasn't going to come down, a plastered-on smile and an easy lie. Tubbo needed another way.
"I'm cold." Tubbo announced, getting up off the dirt floor and putting another piece of coal on the furnace, really making it blaze. Then he fell onto Tommy's ratty bed. "Come here."
"Geez." Tommy said, but didn't deny him. He sat beside him, a line of warmth along his side.
They sat for a moment, stewing, the crackle of the coal in the furnace the only noise beyond their own breathing. As the minutes passed, that synced up as well, until they only drew air together as a unit.
Once upon a time, Tubbo thought it was going to be him and Tommy against the world forever. Then as the years passed and they were torn apart by fireworks, arrows, fists, as they tore each other apart with bad decisions and good decisions and morally grey decisions.
Right now, Tubbo downgraded his want for him and Tommy against the world to just him and Tommy both in the world at the same time. They could work on anything else, as long as they were both still there.
"Can you tell me the truth just this once?" Tubbo said, tired.
Tommy's presence at his side leaned away, leaving a line of chill. He said, stiff, "I'm not lying."
"If I got up and broke that block and read the papers you left in there, would you still say that?"
"Don't."
Tubbo let his pointed silence be the answer.
"It doesn't matter." Tommy said, fiercely. "I'm telling you, it was just a moment. I'm not about to... I just. I was tired. I wasn't really thinking."
"Why didn't you call me?" Tubbo asked.
"It was only a moment." Tommy insisted.
"No, seriously. If I said to you that I had a moment like that, wouldn't you instantly want to know?"
"It's different."
"It's not. I would help you. I would be here in seconds."
"Yeah, exactly."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Tommy frowned at the wall. His mouth the only thing visible with the scars and long bangs. Tubbo was seriously wondering how Tommy could stand how little he could read his face. He wanted it that way, of course, to hide and vulnerability. But... it hid everything else too.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Tommy said, stubborn.
"I don't care." Tubbo replied, sharp. "So you don't want me to come if you're hurting, then? Is that it?"
"You've got your own stuff going on." Tommy gestured at his injured side with a flippant hand.
"So if I'm hurting, you won't come around then?"
"If you want me, then I'll be there." Tommy said, prickly.
"Okay, hypocrite. Because you've got your own stuff going on too. But of course you'd come, and of course I'd come." Tubbo was getting annoyed that it wasn't seemingly sinking in at all.
"It's different."
"I literally don't know how many ways I can tell you it's not. When it's me, it's fine, but not if it's you? What's wrong with you?"
"Everything." Tommy scoffed.
Tubbo knocked their shoulders together hard. "Shut the fuck up, that's my best friend you're talking about."
"You'll defend me now, then?" Then Tommy's face paled, like he heard himself talk, and he said quickly, "I didn't mean that."
"That's probably the first true thing you've said all night, actually." Tubbo forced the tension out of Tommy's broader shoulders. He took a deep breath, all the way to the bottom of his borrowed lungs. It stung a little bit. It carved into that aching pain. "I'm sorry, Tommy."
"Don't." Tommy cut him off.
"No?"
"You're just saying that because I--" Tommy cut himself off this time, and shook his head.
"Do you doubt my intelligence?"
"Never, boss man." Tommy scoffed, breathless.
"Then you're not able to manipulate me. If I want to apologize, that's on me. I didn't stick up for you. I didn't support you. I may have my reasons and they might still hold true, but it doesn't change that it's my fault bad things happened to you. And for that, I'm so fucking sorry. Because I don't want you to be hurt. I never wanted that."
Tommy didn't speak. Eventually, after an eon of silence, he said, "I'm sorry I'm such an idiot."
Tubbo made a noise and said, "Try again."
Tommy sighed. "I don't know what else to say. I was stupid. In different ways, all the time, and I never seem to stop."
"What are you actually sorry for?" Tubbo tried again, because this was just painting pity on himself.
"That I lost you and I don't know how to get you back." Tommy muttered. Again, maybe he thought it was quiet enough not to hear with his bad ear. Tubbo's bad ear.
"One more time." Tubbo coaxed, far gentler.
"I'm sorry that my actions hurt you. I never wanted you to be hurt."
"I know you didn't want to hurt me." Tubbo encouraged immediately, rewarding the honesty.
"But I still did."
"And I still did." Tubbo insisted.
"I'm done being mad with you about it." Tommy shook his head, sounding exhausted. "I just want us back. But you've..."
Tubbo had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he knew where this abandoned sentence was going to end. "I haven't replaced you, Toms."
Tommy's breath hitched and he pulled further away. He said, with a voice cracking in his false bravado, "I'm irreplaceable."
Tubbo didn't bother to acknowledge the attempt at deflecting. "When we were younger, did you love me less because you loved Wilbur?"
"No!" Tommy's mouth scrunched up, offended. "That was completely different. The way I loved..." he took a deep, shaking deep, but bravely continued, "The way I love Wilbur is completely different from the way I love you. They aren't like, ranked against each other. He's my brother. You're my best friend."
"Exactly, Tommy." Tubbo implored him. "Ranboo's my husband. You're my best friend."
Tommy didn't immediately agree, still scowling. "Husband is just a super best friend."
"And someone would say that brother is just a super best friend." Tubbo shook his head, blonde hair in his eyes. "You weren't replacing me with Wilbur. You were supplementing one of the many places in your life we have room to love people. Ranboo could never be my best friend because he's my husband. And you could never be my husband because you're my best friend. There's no comparing the two. There's no replacing one with the other. Tommy. I would never want anyone else to be my best friend."
Tommy said nothing. Tubbo shivered again, because despite the bed and the furnaces and being nowhere near Snowchester, he was still freezing as if he were standing outside in the wind.
After a moment of just quietly listening to his own teeth chatter, Tommy wrapped Tubbo up in a very tight hug. It was funny, because he was shorter and his horns dug into Tubbo's shoulder. But he made no move to let go, something painful loosening in his chest at the affection from Tommy.
It often felt like Tommy never stood still long enough to hold onto. That there was a barrier between him and the world, him and other people. Tubbo was never particularly affectionate himself, though the casual touch with his husband loosened his view recently. He hadn't realized how much someone could say with a hug.
Tommy was gripping him so tightly it hurt, like he was afraid to hold on and afraid to let go. So Tubbo pressed his nose into his shoulder and rubbed his back.
"I prayed to Prime last night." Tommy admitted, barely a sound.
"What did you pray for?" Tubbo asked, when he didn't elaborate further.
"I prayed that they would take care of you if I wasn't here."
Tubbo held on tighter. His mouth quivered with emotion. He said, weary, "I'd rather you were here."
"I know." Tommy hesitated, then curled closer, amending, "I know now."
They stayed right there. Close enough that Tubbo finally stopped shivering, and fell asleep with a weight on his mind.
Then Tubbo woke warm. Head heavy with horns. Face with the familiar tightness of burnt nerves. But a taller body with longer limbs still curled around him, holding on like he never wanted to let go.
"Tommy." Tubbo murmured, in his own voice. It came out half-garbled, the painful familiarity of adjusting to being down an ear.
"Mm?"
"We're back to normal."
The body in his arms tensed, then relaxed. Tommy didn't pull away. He said, "I'd give you back my ears and eyes if I could."
"I'd give you my warmth." Tubbo replied, aware that his littler form wormed into Tommy's chest at the moment made his core thaw. He'd experienced it, after all.
"You have." Tommy agreed, then said, still mumbled from sleepiness, "I'll just have to be your ears and eyes on your left side, then."
"If you're always at my side, it'll be worth it."
Tommy shuddered a breath, deep in his lungs. He said, "If we hadn't switched, I don't know what would've happened."
"I'm glad we did, then." Tubbo said. "I really am. It was good to walk a mile in your shoes."
"Then you're a mile away and you've stolen someone's shoes." Tommy said, almost rote, then gave a painful chuckle. "Sorry. Wil used to say that."
Tubbo squeezed tighter. He did not let go.
He muttered, "You're warm now?"
"Yeah."
"Does it still hurt?"
"I'm not thinking about it right now." Tommy reflexively hugged Tubbo more.
That was fair. His ear was still ringing getting used to his body again, with the blank vast darkness of half his vision. But with Tommy rumbling right through his chest and vision only half-lit by a flickering furnace, it didn't really matter right now.
He was thinking solely about Tommy's heart beat against his good ear. They stayed there for a long time.