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This was his secret.
Tommy wouldn't have let himself be caught dead with a book, any day.
But boredom can lead a man to a lot of things, and it lead big man TommyInnit to reading.
First, it was out of spite. A comment on how the only books he ever read were for small children. He cussed the person out (by now he's forgotten who it was), picked up a random novel and sat in a corner, fuming. His plan was to read the entire thing and then shove it in the person's face.
His anger was quickly forgotten, though. The story was way more interesting than he thought. He kinda felt bad that he used to tease Wilbur so much for reading almost every day. He got it, now. It's really cool.
So, out of pride, he never shared his newly-discovered passion. He'd be found dead before admitting he was wrong, ever. He instead snuck every piece of writing he could find into his room and hid them in a small box under his bed, to read later in the night under the light of a torch, while everyone was asleep.
Fantasy, adventure, encyclopedias, fairytales, he'd read anything. Hell, he'd even read the recipes in cookbooks!
No one knew. He made sure of it, took every precaution, told no one. Not even Tubbo.
Maybe it was a mistake to keep it a secret, actually.
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"Tommy, look out! Creeper!"
Tommy snaps his head towards the noise, his wide-opened eyes catching a glimpse of the mob about to explode. He barely has time to react before the blinding and deafening wave of shock throws him against a nearby tree.
His ears ring painfully and his vision is dark. It takes him a moment to realize his eyes aren't closed.
He screams for help, his voice so raspy he's not even sure they understand him at first. But shortly after, he feels hands and arms carrying him away from the explosion site.
They set him on a bed. Bandage any bad injuries. Wipe his face clean. He hears them leave the room, and he just feels so tired.
He'll just... close his eyes for a second.
Not that it really makes a difference right now.
The next few hours - hours? Days? It was hard to tell - felt like a blur, alternating between moments of vague consciousness and heavy sleep, until he felt strong enough to shake himself awake completely.
His hearing is somewhat good, even if still a little muffled.
His sight, on the other hand, is just darkness. Not even colors, or light, just black. A void. He shudders.
"Tommy! You're awake!" A voice next to him exclaims, startling him. He turns his head towards the source of the noise by reflex, and his heart tightens when his gaze is still met by nothing.
He can still recognize the voice as Tubbo's, though. He extends a hand towards him. "You're loud. Surprised me," he says with a chuckle as he ruffles the familiar fabric of Tubbo's shirt. "Didn't hear you come in."
"You looked right at me, so I thought you knew I was there. Didn't mean to startle you, big man." His friend's voice is full of concern and care, which Tommy doesn't mind. But it's the hint of pity creeping up in his tone that he doesn't like. And it's going to get worse when he learns that poor poor TommyInnit can't even see anything.
But he's gonna have to tell him eventually anyways, right?
"Tubbo, I-" he starts, nervous. Putting it into words is harder than he thought and panic slowly seeps into his voice. "I can't see anything, Tubbo. Like, at all. It's all black and I don't know what I'm gonna do if it doesn't fix itself and I don't want the others pitying me like a kid and-"
A warm hand on his shoulder stops him. Tubbo's signature calming gesture.
"We assumed it was the case a few hours ago, actually. When you weren't passed out, you couldn't see us when we called your name, and then Ghostbur said that your eyes looked weird."
Tommy flinches. "Weird?"
"Yeah, like glazed over. Your pupils look kinda white."
By reflex, the blond brings his hand to his face and lightly brushes the skin around the eye, silently cursing when all it does is make his various cuts and burns sting even more.
They stay silent for a few minutes, Tommy not wanting to feel clingy by making small talk just to hear Tubbo's voice but also afraid the other would get up silently and leave him alone. As if he heard his thoughts, his breathing becomes slightly louder.
The blond runs his fingers through his hair as he lets out a shaky sigh. At least he still has his other senses to compensate for now. He can feel the soft hair tickling his palm, smell the rubbing alcohol they probably used on him, hear Tubbo's voice. Some anchors in his new, temporary - at least he hopes it's temporary - pitch-black world.
He can feel a hand in his, now. He recognizes some of Tubbo's scars, the ones he remembers. A glass shard from a bottle they broke and were trying to clean up, a cat bite, a small lava burn that didn't heal well. He mindlessly rubs his thumb on them with little circular motions. He remembers what they look like. At least, he hopes he does.
Memories are useful, most of the time, but they also like to play tricks on you when you aren't careful. Tommy doesn't want to think about what's real and what his brain made up in the images flashing frantically in his mind, like it's trying to hold on to them before they disappear. He shivers.
"Tubs?" He asks quietly, not letting go of his hand. He feels so tired, all of a sudden.
"What's up, big man?" Tubbo asks back. The voice is gentle and full of concern, again. At least there's no pity this time, Tommy tells himself. He isn't sure he likes being handled like a baby bird with a broken wing, but Tubbo is his best friend. Of course he was going to worry. And... it's bearable when it's him.
A bearable sound is better than no sound at all, right now.
"I- Urgh, this is gonna sound so stupid." He takes a big, tired breath. "Can you... Can you talk to me until I fall asleep again? I don't want to- Silence isn't-"
He stops, feeling Tubbo's other hand on his. Tubbo starts talking.
He tells him stories, updates on the others, fun little things he saw happen. They both chuckle at least once or twice. Tommy soon closes his eyes, lulled to sleep by the other's voice. It's not just bearable. It's nice.
He doesn't let go of his hands.
▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪
Tommy huffs and slams his book against the table. "Why is this so hard?" he groans in frustration.
Tubbo sighs. "It's only been a few weeks, big man," he reminds the blond for what feels like the 20th time in an hour. "Learning takes time. And it's not by giving up every thirty seconds that you're gonna remember anything, anyways."
Tommy huffs again. He knows. But it still sucks that it's taking this long. He thought he'd be done by now.
They've been practicing since a week and a half after the accident, which happened about two months ago now. When he realized his vision wasn't getting better, he started finding ways to compensate with his other senses. And so, with Tubbo's help (who thought it would be useful to know), the boys had been trying to learn braille.
He told the others he wanted to still be able to somehow read to not feel left out, but the truth was that he couldn't wait to get back to his books. Weeks without them felt like torture that his pride wouldn't allow him to share, so he was very eager to learn when they started teaching themselves. He had seen a few books in braille laying around that he had never read before, seeing as he didn't think he'd ever need to know it, and he couldn't wait to see what stories were inside - he didn't even care if they weren't the tropes he liked. Tubbo probably found his enthusiasm suspicious, to be honest.
"How'd you know we had books to learn braille anyways?" The other finally asks. "It's not like you to be anywhere near books at all."
Tommy tenses up slightly. The dreaded question. Thankfully, he rehearsed his answer.
"I just heard someone mention it once," he says, hoping Tubbo won't pry further. "I have a good memory sometimes, Tubs. Don't underestimate me."
Tommy can feel the goat boy's gaze drill holes in his skull. He offers him a confident smile - at least, he hopes it looks confident - and goes back to the book, praying that Tubbo will either be satisfied with his answer or stop asking questions.
The other boy huffs dryly - that's a no on the 'satisfied' option - but doesn't push the blond further. Tommy holds the breath of relief that is threatening to escape his lungs, allowing himself a small smile instead, and puts his hands back on the book again. 'Nice save,' he congratulates himself mentally.
___
"If you have such a good memory, how come you can't remember the letters in braille-"
" Fuck off. "
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It's pitch black in the room. Tommy doesn't need his eyes to know that, because the familiar warmth of the lit torch next to his bed is missing.
It's actually better this way, he doesn't have to worry about someone noticing any ray of light coming from his room late at night and starting to ask questions. It's just him and his new book tonight. A book in braille. The moment of truth.
After spending months trying to memorize every letter, number and sign of punctuation, he definitely earned the right to finally treat himself to some reading.
So, after gently rubbing the page to get a feel of where the letters are, he gets to work.
He soon gets frustrated. He keeps misreading letters and has to think for a second to remember which is which - a recurring problem that hinders his following of the story. He can't get himself immersed in it like before.
Deep down, he knows it's just an issue of getting used to it. That in another few months he'll be reading at a normal pace again. But Tommy was never a patient person and right now, it's just so... discouraging.
Angry tears well up in his eyes, and he wipes them away before clasping the book shut a little harder than he intended to. A shaky sigh escapes him.
Why did that fucking creeper have to go after him? Why did the blast have to take his vision? It could've destroyed literally anything else, but it had to be the thing he'd needed most.
He throws the book on the floor. His thoughts swirl loudly in his head, drowning everything else.
"Tommy?"
They immediately go silent at the muffled sound of Tubbo's voice, who the blond can hear is waiting behind the door. He puts a hand over his mouth to silence himself.
"You okay, big man? I heard some noise," Tubbo asks again. Tommy nods, but remembers he's sitting in plain darkness with the door closed and his friend cannot see him.
" 'm fine," he mutters instead, but he can't stop his voice from wavering. The other must recognise that he's upset, because he opens the door right after.
Slowly, Tubbo makes his way to the bed, a crackling candle in hand. He sits down next to Tommy. The blond hugs his knees for comfort. He squeezes his eyes shut, a few warm tears finally rolling down his cheeks. A gentle hand settles on his shoulder. He can hear the other setting down the candle on the bedside table.
"Talk to me, man." The short boy's voice is reduced to a whisper - and yet, he still sounds so worried. "I could see something's been eating at you for months and I hate that I can't do anything to help - because I can't help if you don't tell me what's going on."
Tommy scoffs half-heartedly. "You're gonna make fun of me."
"When have I ever made fun of you for something important?"
The blond opens his mouth to argue, but promptly closes it. He has a point.
Tommy takes a deep shaky breath.
"...I like reading," he manages to say softly, struggling not to sniffle between each word. "Before the fuckin' creeper blew me up, I... I read a lot, man. I know I said it was stupid and everything, but I was lying. Because it's embarrassing to admit, y'know?"
The other just hums, waiting for him to collect his thoughts and continue. The hand on his shoulder is still there, warm and reassuring.
"And..." He swallows. "It's dumb, but I thought... I thought I was ready to read again. But I'm not. I told m'self that... maybe it'd get better in a few months, when I'll be used to it, but..." Another deep breath, and a little pause. " Right now? It's too hard. I'm not... I don't have the strength to force m'self to stick it out."
Suddenly, he's trapped in a hug. Tommy's eyes fill up with tears again.
"You're so, so strong, boss man," Tubbo says. "You went blind and you still didn't let that stop you."
The blond buries his face into the crook of his friend's neck, trying his best not to break down crying. But it feels safe. Tubbo knows, and he doesn't judge. Tubbo is safe.
"It's anything but dumb to be upset about that. To be frustrated and angry." The short boy's open hand rubs soothing circles on his friend's back. "And it's so fucking unfair you have to go through all of that. I just... I wish you'd let me in."
"...Okay," Tommy breathes out, unclenching his jaw. Slowly unbottling all the pressure that's been building up over the past few months.
The tears soak Tubbo's shirt. Neither of them do anything to stop it.
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The boys lay on their back on Tommy's bed, mindlessly staring at the ceiling.
Tommy's eyelids feel heavy, but his chest doesn't anymore. He finds himself smiling at the realization.
Tubbo seems to catch it.
"Do you feel a bit better?" He asks.
Tommy switches to his side, turning towards the other.
"...Yeah," he says after a pause. "Yeah, much better."
Tubbo hums again.
They go silent again until the short boy speaks again. "Hey, Tommy? What was your favorite book?"
Tommy laughs. "It's called 'The Sun Dance' ," he recalls. "An old legend about how the days started or something. Forgot who wrote it, but I remember Techno gave it to Will, who then had it lying around for weeks before I got my hands on it."
"I think I remember seeing it. Leather, golden sun on the cover?"
"Bingo."
They laugh.
"Do you still have it?" Tubbo asks a moment later.
"Uh, yeah, I think so. In my book stash." Tommy sits down on the floor and feels around under his bed until he finds what he's looking for - a wooden crate filled with books, of all colors and sizes. "It has to be in there. But, um... why?"
Tubbo doesn't answer. Instead, he digs around in the crate until he finds the book he's looking for. He then pulls Tommy back on the bed and sits next to him, clearing his throat and ignoring Tommy's questions.
" 'There was a time,' ", he starts reading aloud, " 'A point in time before the sun found the world interesting enough to give it light and warmth.' "
Tommy instantly stops moving and presses against Tubbo, quietly waiting for him to continue.
" 'The people shivered in an eternal night all life long.' " Tubbo notices Tommy mouthing some words with him, remembering them as his friend reads them. " 'The people had nothing, and they longed for one thing - comfort. But despite the moon's requests, the selfish sun would not help.' "
The blond closes his eyes and rests his head on Tubbo's shoulder, nudging him gently so he wouldn't stop.
So he doesn't.
He keeps reading.
Even doing the voices to make Tommy laugh.
By the end of the story, Tommy has fallen asleep, a small smile on his face.