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In one moment, L'manberg was his again, and in the next Tommy found himself saving a barren land.
The long-winded Thursday sent Tommy reeling; too many whispers, scorned looks like he himself had coerced his brother to tyranny. Even the inky blue clouds themselves lay shattered across the sky, streaks of indigo and violet flashing across the plain. The sun had long set.
It was quaint, really- the atmosphere. Somewhere in the noise Tommy could find silence, a quiet vibration that made the edges of his vision fuzzy and the discontent thoughts of his mind fade away, similar to the spring leaf on a river. But it’s as soon as he finds rejoice in the reverie that his mind is jostled and he blinks himself aware, aware of the necessity to be constantly vigilant. That lesson was firmly instilled.
It broke his heart to realise his country was still on fire.
Smokey exhales, smouldering earth lay ahead as he perched on the cliff edges. They’d eroded, with tiny tumbleweeds of dust falling miserably when he shifted his weight. The taste of ash burned his tongue with every breath, and the pain followed through his lungs until it had circulated his body and left again. Tommy wondered if maybe he was briefly set alight from the inside due to the heat.
Glasses perched on the top of his head, uniform crinkled, burnt, old; his shirt not quite tucked in how it was supposed to be. He needed a new set, but he couldn’t quite remember the patterns amidst the dirt and grass that was intertwined. (He wondered if maybe they were part of the design). But he could simply ask.
So he sat waiting.
With a sigh, Tommy precariously slumped his back against the cold, hard dirt. Chilling rumbles alerted him to the fact that it had been hours since he had last eaten, but he tossed the thought aside for now. There were more important concerns.
It was indiscernible the matter which left l’manberg crumbling. The crash and boom of TNT, if one listened closely, could still be heard echoing in the endless caverns and catacombs which lay the secret to his country’s riches. They had been raided by the rival party of jewels and all those that sparkled, and Tommy wondered how the president would build the country back to its former glory. But he knew that he could; Tommy would always have faith in him. He just had to wait.
Footsteps of increasing pace could be heard, and Tommy craned his neck to look.
Tubbo.
He tried to hide the slump of his shoulders and instead focused on the plates carried carefully in the shorter’s hand. Two sandwiches, maybe cheese and ham- Tommy couldn’t quite tell in the spiralling light from the adjacent sun.
“Hey Bossman,” Tubbo had greeted, “mind if I join you?”
Upon Tommy’s lack of answer, he pressed his free hand firmly against the dirt to steady himself as he sat next to the sprawled boy.
“Cheese or ham?” The boy asked. Tommy shrugged, focused on the streaks of violet-turning-blue in the sky. Tubbo placed the cheese on Tommy’s stomach and manoeuvred his hand to touch the plate, simultaneously beginning to eat his own. Eventually Tommy’s joints unstiffened and he brushed the metaphysical cobwebs off his shoulders. He sat up, and began to eat slowly. Slowly enough that he could count the chews between bite and swallow. Approximately eight.
They continued to eat together in silence until they were both finished- Tubbo with an empty plate, and Tommy with half the sandwich remaining. It lay unspoken.
Tubbo breaks the silence like the careful approach of the predator to the prey, like any sudden movements or sounds would cause it to bolt. “I was thinking maybe we could-”
“Tubbo, I’m tired,” Tommy says with a heavy voice, rusty with disuse. He coughs a few times, as though to rid his throat of dust. “I’m just going to stay here for a little bit longer.”
And he doesn’t speak again, so Tubbo takes his own plate and his leave. If Tommy had taken his eyes away from the horizon he would have seen unsubtle furtive and forlorn glances directed toward his body, and maybe he would have cried, and maybe he would have left with Tubbo back to his home. But he didn’t take his eyes away from the horizon, not quite yet.
Footsteps could be heard of decreasing speed, and it almost appears that they become heavier as the distance grows, like Tubbo himself is dragging his feet, one step at a time like something within his very bones is pushing against him. But ultimately Tubbo wins, as his footsteps recede until they are inaudible.
Tommy waits with half a sandwich like a dutiful citizen, for he knew his president wouldn’t have had time to eat. So he stays, guarding over the food so no strays would be tempted. He didn’t have to worry about the bread going stale because he would be here soon.
With shaky exhales, the temperature drops and Tommy began to shiver- November nights were not as warm as past Junes. But it was okay, because he would be here soon and his presence would warm Tommy more than any coat.
So he sat waiting.
He waits until he can’t see the broken land in front of him, until anything further away than a breath was simply too blurry to be made clear, even with the glasses. He waits until the inky blue turns jet black and back to inky blue again. Iridescent beams of sun shine through the broken glass windows creating beautiful prismarines across the mud (it had rained not a few hours before). He waits until Tubbo comes again, replacing the half-sandwich with a whole one, and watches as Tommy leaves half again.
Tommy sleeps for the first time on the third cycle. Only for a few hours, mind you, but his eyes close regardless. His resolve had not waived once, and would continue to stand strong.
It rained again; streaks of lightning and rumbles of thunder surveying the plain, however Tommy’s shoulders merely curled and his neck bent to keep the rain out of his eyes.
When the rain stopped, Tommy looked dimly out west with damp lashes and lidded eyes, five, two and four o’clock shadows littered his expression. The remains of L’manberg were little- a few bricks of the wall, the shattered glass of the White House and the tattered remains of a flag. Tommy wasn’t sure if the flag had been introduced before or after the explosion but he ultimately decided it didn’t matter. Everything could be fixed, he just had to wait for Wilbur.
And so he sat waiting.