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“I found a good branch!” Tommy exclaimed. He ran back to Tubbo with reckless abandon towards whatever lay in the path of his bare feet.
His friend was lounging on the old blanket they had stolen acquired from Phil. “The knife’s in the basket,” Tubbo said. Tom slid right next to him, jostling the other boy.
“Hey!” Tubbo light-heartedly whined “You’re going to make me break my crown!”
“The flowers aren’t that fragile.”
“They are!”
“No. You are simply wrong.” Tommy deadpanned. Laughter took a second to break out from between their lips, but once the floodgates had opened the two were drowned in it.
Tommy was first to break out of the hysteric fit. With the stick in his left hand, he reached into their basket and pulled out his dad’s whittling knife.
“You, dear stick, are going to be the most dangerous weapon in all the land,” Tommy proclaimed.
“Against nukes?” Tubbo questioned.
“Nukes are not real. The government made them up to try to stop me from becoming king. Little do they know, I’m too smart for them!” Tommy explained to Tubbo, his voice rising in volume at each word.
Tubbo laughed and went back to tying his flowers together. Tommy took the cue and started to cut at the tip of the branch.
Tubbo paused, in thought, before smiling and saying, “This can be your crown! A king needs a golden crown.” He held it out for Tommy to see.
Tommy scrutinized the dandelions, nodding in approval. Tubbo placed what he’d made so far on his friend’s head, measuring how much bigger he needed to make it.
Once Tubbo’s hands drew back, Tommy went back to whittling down the stick.
They sat there in a comfortable silence. Tubbo’s fingers grew the crown, flower by flower, in increasing deftness.
Tommy sharpened the stick bit by bit, the wood shavings coming off in little curls.
Eventually, Tommy’s hand clutched a spear and his head bore a crown. Both of the boys’ lips held smiles.