Work Text:
Tubbo was sick.
He had been for a very long time. He didn’t remember how, or why. But he recalled waking up in a frozen prison with black goo erupting from his lungs, having to cough it out for hours each morning, gagging around black goop that tasted like sludge. On good days it was a thin liquid akin to water, on bad days it was a sticky gloopy that stuck like slime on his tongue.
Safe to say he was ill, sickly even. He had noticed coughs and splutters from his fellow inmates in prison, but they all took it better than him. Or died. Not at once, no. Even after being freed from Prison Tubbo noticed them all slowly disappearing one by one. Lenay was the first, Mouse was the last one to disappear that Tubbo knew about, and now all that was left was him and Tina.
He kept his eyes on her when she was around, no cough, no splutter. But she seemed to get out of breath easier than most. It was funny. Tubbo had it worst out of all of them and he was still alive. They all had such little coughs, Tubbo had been spewing his guts out each morning.
Was his time near? He wondered.
He smiled at the thought.
Many moons ago Tubbo would begin his days ill, he would hold it down through, resist the urge to cough and splutter when his princess came up to play. He couldn’t get her sick, not his girl. Sunny noticed, Tubbo knew she saw the way he heaved and staggered some days. But she didn’t ask. His daughter was smart, she knew what it meant and she never wanted to hear an answer.
And after all Tubbo was stubborn, he wouldn’t let the disease that killed Lenay and Pol take him too. He was resistant. He was strong. He was ill. And he was making it out alive.
In the Regime it was easier to hide. He spent hours huddled in his factory just coughing into buckets before dumping them into the ocean. “Pollution” he told Ash, smiling at him as the man nodded in approval. He wondered if he was infecting the fish. He had stopped being careful after Sunny.
Maybe that was why his skin had started to turn black, rot covering his shoulders with spots dancing from there down to his fingertips. Maybe he was finally dying. Tubbo wore gloves under his uniform. Covering every inch of skin. He was going to die, and if he was it wasn’t going to be dramatic.
Tubbo laid heaving over a bucket, breath coming in without going towards his brain and he leaned over it, one hand on the wall the other on his stone floor.
The world was swinging, colours dancing in his vision as he sucked in air, hoping to push away the nausea. “I’m going to die” he whispered to himself, the lack of air forming a deranged smile to spread across his face. He shook with a laugh and ducked his head into his chest, not caring for the black dribbles of sick spilling onto his shirt.
He laughed, a sick demented laugh that bubbled out of him at the same time tears began to leak from his eyes.
Tubbo UnderscoreSideUp was going to die.
There would be no daughter to bring him back with black magic this time, no teary eyed god son to hold his hand as he came back. He was going to die in this factory. Surrounded by population and disease he himself was spreading.
Tubbo’s manic laughter was cut off as a wave of sickness washed over him and he turned back to the bucket as another sloppy wave of black liquid bursted from his throat, He cougheed as his spit mixed black, spilling over the edges of the bucket. Fuck, he was grateful his daughter would never see him like this.
He probably had people to tell, warnings to give that he was going to die. That seemed like a nice thing to do.
—
Tubbo leaned against the walls of the death star as Foolish continued to build and furnish the area, chittering amongst himself with the little builders on his shoulders who muttered and giggled. All Tubbo could look at was the purple crystal around his neck, over his heart. It didn’t take a smartass to realise who that was meant to represent.
“Foolish?” he called out, hands wrapped around the remote controls for the death star, just fiddling with the gears in the back as the totem turned his head and got closer.
“Yeah!” he called back, yelling even though they were now right next to each other. Tubbo snorted and Foolish bared his teeth in a sharp grin. Truth be Foolish was his closest friend. Fit and Pac had left him behind for their romance, Tubbo had relied on Foolish in the aftermath and the man had never left him alone like that.
If he was going to tell anyone he knew it had to be Foolish first.
He knew he would take it the best after all.
“I’m dying.” he huffed, eyes sunken in as he stared behind him at the sunset. And true to what Tubbo knew of Foolish the totem didn’t cry and sob, he didn’t plead with Tubbo to reconsider, he lifted a brow with a sort of amused look. Not happy. No, Tubbo knew Foolish was mourning in his own way, he’d just already moved on to acceptance. “Why?”
Tubbo fiddled with his uniform, taking off the jacket and tugging it off of his shoulders, he lifted his undershirt and displayed the black shoulder that had begun to expand into his veins.
“All of us from Prison were sick, pretty sure it killed the rest of them off, beside me and Tina. I’ve always had it worse than the others, and now it’s doing this.” Tubbo gestured to his shoulder as he spoke, looking at the way Foolish’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Shit man, are you going to end up crazy like Forever?” he asked, hand reaching out to touch the skin. It was numb, Tubbo couldn’t feel a thing. He shrugged. “I’m not sure, I mean I assume it’s the same infection but all the others got taken by the Fed when they got too sick, they’ll probably do the same to me, but if not. Put me down.”
Foolish nodded, They had both witnessed Forever’s crazy, they’d been stressed out of their minds protecting the kids from him. The kids weren’t here now to be cautious of, but Tubbo doubted they wanted a crazy Regime engineer around, if he didn’t betray them once it corrupted his mind.
“Any burial wishes?” Foolish asked as he pulled away once Tubbo began to put his uniformed jacket back on, buttoning it up as he thought.
“I want to be preserved in ice.”
A logical part of him informed him that any sort of contagious disease would be contained if frozen. The other part of him knew he still craved the cold.
Sunny would punch him if she knew.
—
Telling Ash and Haiper didn't go as intended, he had asked for a meeting for a completely separate reason, his factory needed more resources and he needed help being the reason. He did not intend to warn them of his upcoming death. However as they all climbed up into the pantheon and were about to sit in their chairs, Tubbo felt a wave of nausea curl in his gut, he paused.
“Tubbo?” It was Ash’s voice that broke through the quiet as Tubbo stumbled down into his chair, his breath slightly uneven. Haiper turned his head, cautiously sniffing with his nose as he looked between Ash and Tubbo.
There was no use covering it now. He would never make it to the bucket in the factory. So he leaned over, just far enough not to dirty his chair and he felt a gush slide down his throat as he spluttered around goop that slushes out of his body in a never ending drip.
There’s a panicked shout from above him and Tubbo can feel as hands pull his curls back and out of his face and one hand rests on his forehead. He feels warm. “Haiper, get a bucket!” Ash shouts.
It takes less than a minute for Haiper to pull a bucket out of his inventory, splashing the white floors as he empties the water out before holding it to his mouth. He smiles, or he would, if black vomit wasn’t burning his throat. He’s surprised to find a furred hand pressing against his back, rubbing circles.
“Shit-” he can hear Ash above him. “You’re okay Tubbo, you’re alright.”
He keeps throwing up, acid blending into his puke. Is it even puke at this point?
“Don’t worry?” Haiper tries, less sure of himself but no less appreciated.
Together they hold Tubbo, work him through his fit, it lasts almost exactly five minutes, it's too much. It leaves him feeling empty and pale as Tubbo finally rises his head from the bucket to find two worried faces before him. He smiles. “Have I mentioned I'm dying?” he asked.
The bucket almost falls before Haiper grabs it again in his panic. “What.” Ash spits out, his face beginning to warp and distort as his grip on Tubbo’s hair tightens. “I’m sick.” He explains with a groan, whining as he tries to wipe off the goop on his chin with his gloves, gritting his teeth at the vile texture.
“Since when?” The fox questioned this time, putting the bucket down to stare straight at him, his tail pointing all sorts of directions. Tubbo feels bad, he does. But it had to come out somehow.
“Since the day I woke up on the old island, probably longer than that… But I don’t remember before.” He grumbled, heaving as he staggered towards his feet, as if on auto pilot Ash grabbed his arm, stabilising him.
“You’re not dying Tubbo, over my dead fucking body. Haiper. He’s on bed rest, ensure Tubbo has a place to stay and do not let him out until he is well.” Ash demanded
The engineer smiled, he doesn’t have much time left. If they want to play recovery they can. A part of him knows he’s going to die soon. And the chances they’ll save him are slim.
‘Coming home to you Sunny.’ He smiled to himself as Haiper and Ash began to lead him somewhere. Probably to a bed. It’s been so long since he’s slept.