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Tommy woke up to the unfamiliar weight of silence.
For a few seconds, he didn’t open his eyes. He laid still beneath a blanket that wasn’t his, listening to the quiet creak of a house settling around him. There was no shouting from downstairs. No Tubbo complaining that he’d been asleep for twelve hours and was therefore legally dead.
Tommy opened his eyes. The ceiling wasn’t his. Neither were the walls, or the bed, or the blanket pulled up to his chin.
It was Techno’s house.
He remembered that much.
His eyes immediately went to the other side of the room. Empty.
“Tubbo?” his voice came out rough with sleep.
Nothing.
Tommy pushed himself upright. The room tilted for half a second before settling again. He rubbed at his eyes and looked around, as though Tubbo might somehow be hiding behind the chair.
“Tubbo?” he called out louder this time.
Still nothing.
Something cold settled beneath Tommy’s ribs. He remembered leaving. He remembered the argument. The shouting, the words neither of them had meant until they were already spoken and couldn’t be taken back. He remembered Tubbo telling him to leave him alone. He remembered leaving. Why did he go?
After that, everything was fractured.
Tommy’s stomach twisted. What if Tubbo had followed him? What if he’d been hurt? What if–
No.
He shoved the thoughts away before they could finish forming. Instead, he looked at the empty space across the room again. That was the problem.
Tubbo wasn’t here.
And Tommy didn’t know where he was. The thought should have been What happened?
It wasn’t.
It was simply Where is Tubbo?
Tommy found Techno in the kitchen. Of course he did.
Techno was standing over the stove, one hand stirring something in a pan while the other held a mug. He glanced over when Tommy entered, his expression barely changing.
“Mornin’.”
Tommy ignored the greeting. “Where’s Tubbo?”
“Gone.” Techno turned back to the stove.
Tommy stopped. “Gone where?”
‘Dunno.”
“When is he coming back?”
Techno shrugged. “Dunno.”
The answer lodged somewhere unpleasant beneath Tommy’s ribs. He moved closer.
“Did you speak to him? Did he say where he was going?”
“No.”
“Did he take his stuff?”
“Some of it.”
“Which stuff?”
Techno finally looked at him. “Tommy.”
“What?”
“He’s gone for the morning. Maybe longer. I don’t know.
“Was he still angry?” Tommy’s fingers curled against the edge of the counter.
Techno considered that. “A little.”
“A little?”
“Ok. More than a little.”
Tommy swallowed. “Did he say anything about me?”
“No.” The word came too quickly.
Tommy’s head snapped up. “Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“What did he say before he left?”
“That he needed to go and clear his head.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, Tommy.”
Tommy stared at him, trying to find something Techno wasn’t saying. There had to be something. Tubbo didn’t just leave. Not without saying something. Not after–
He stopped himself. Techno turned off the stove.
“You could just tell me that you miss him.”
Tommy scoffed immediately. “I don’t miss him.”
Techno said nothing.
“I don’t!”
Still nothing.
Tommy crossed his arms. “He’s just– he’s usually here. He doesn’t usually just leave after a fight.”
Techno poured whatever he’d been making into a bowl.
“Right.”
Tommy glared at him. Techno didn’t argue. Somehow, that was worse.
By the time breakfast was finished, Tommy had forgotten three separate times that Tubbo wasn’t there. The first was when he reached for another mug. His hand hovered over the cupboard before he stopped. He stared at it for a moment, then shut the door again.
The second was when Techno said something about the pigs. It wasn’t even particularly funny. Tommy laughed anyway, turning instinctively towards the doorway.
“Tubbo, did you–”
Nobody answered. Nobody was there to. His smile disappeared.
The third was the worst. Techno made some passing comment about Tommy being useless in the morning, and Tommy immediately opened his mouth to complain. Tubbo would have laughed. Or argued on his behalf. Probably both. He could already imagine the stupid grin on his face. Instead, there was only Techno, sitting there entirely unbothered.
“What’s your problem?!” Tommy demanded.
Techno raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking about it.”
“I wasn't.”
“You absolutely were.”
Tommy waited for Tubbo to join in.
Nothing.
He looked towards the empty doorway again. It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous. He knew it was all ridiculous. Still, he hadn’t stopped. Every thought seemed to reach the same dead end.
He saw something funny and wanted Tubbo to hear about it. He got angry and wanted Tubbo to argue back. He remembered the argument from yesterday and wanted Tubbo there so he could apologise to him, or shout at him, or tell Tommy that he was being an idiot.
Even fear had somewhere to go when Tubbo was around. Now it just sat inside him.
By midday, Tommy had stopped trying to occupy himself. He sat on the edge of the porch, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. He heard footsteps behind him. Techno lowered himself onto the step beside him.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Tommy picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.
Then, so quietly it almost disappeared into the wind, he said, “What am I without him?”
Techno didn't answer.
Tommy's throat tightened. “Nothing.”
The word sounded horrible once it was outside his head.
“I don't know,” he corrected, quieter. “I don't know who I'm supposed to be.”
Techno was silent for a long moment. Then he said, “You were Tommy before you met him.”
Tommy looked at him. “I was different.”
“Yeah.”
Techno's gaze stayed fixed on the horizon. “That's the point.”
Tommy frowned.
“You changed each other. That's what people do,” he shrugged, “Tubbo's important to you. Really important. But that doesn't mean you stop existing when he's not around.”
Tommy looked down at his hands. It didn't feel that simple.
“I don't know how to be me without him.”
Techno finally looked at him. “You don't stop being yourself just because someone's not around to see it.”
Tommy swallowed. The words settled somewhere deeper than he wanted them to.
Techno nudged his shoulder. “You don't have to earn being Tommy every morning.”
For once, Tommy had nothing to say. The quiet lasted until the sun had started to dip.
Eventually, Techno stood. “Come on.”
Tommy looked up. “Where?”
“Inside.”
Tommy followed him reluctantly, dragging his feet across the porch and through the front door. Techno returned to the kitchen, apparently deciding that whatever had been left on the stove was more important than whatever Tommy was doing. Tommy hovered near the doorway. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for.
Then the front door opened. Tommy's head snapped up.
Tubbo walked in carrying a small paper bag in one hand. He looked exhausted. His hair was a mess, his clothes were dusty, and there was a crease between his eyebrows that hadn't been there yesterday.
For one second, Tommy just stared, then– “Where the hell have you been?”
Tubbo blinked. “Out.”
“You can't just disappear!”
Tubbo's expression immediately sharpened. “You literally disappeared first!”
“I did not–”
“You left!”
“You told me to!”
“Because you were being a dick!”
“So were you!”
Techno continued whatever he was doing at the counter. Neither of them seemed to notice him. Tommy's heart was pounding. Tubbo was here. He was angry. He was exhausted. He was being incredibly annoying.
He was fine.
And Tommy realised, somewhere between one shouted accusation and the next, that the panic he'd been carrying all day hadn't vanished. It had simply loosened.
Tubbo hadn't fixed anything by walking through the door. Tommy was still Tommy. He was still confused, still tired, still carrying everything that had happened yesterday somewhere behind his ribs.
But Tubbo was here.
And Tommy liked that.
He liked having someone to argue with. Someone who knew when he was lying. Someone who could make him furious in under thirty seconds and somehow make the room feel less empty by doing it. He didn't need Tubbo to tell him who he was. But, apparently, being himself was a lot more enjoyable when Tubbo was around to call him an idiot.
“You're impossible,” Tubbo snapped.
Tommy grinned despite himself. “Yeah, well. You're still here.”
Tubbo rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately.”
Tommy took a sip of his tea. “You're still annoying.”
Tubbo looked at him. “And you're still a dickhead.”
From the kitchen came a long, suffering sigh.
“Both of you are going to be quiet eventually, right?”
“No,” they said together.
Techno sighed again, apparently regretting every decision that had led to either of them being in his house. Tubbo reached for the paper bag he'd brought home and pulled out something wrapped in paper. He tossed it across the table toward Tommy without looking.
Tommy caught it. “What’s this?”
“Food.”
“You got me food?”
“You complain when you're hungry.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
Tommy unwrapped it anyway.
For a moment, everything was ordinary. And Tommy thought about the morning. About waking up and reaching for a second mug. About looking at the empty space beside him and wondering who he was supposed to be when Tubbo wasn't there.
He'd thought needing Tubbo meant there was nothing left of him without him. He knew better now. He was still Tommy. Tubbo just made being Tommy considerably easier.
Tubbo leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn't leave forever, anyway.”
Tommy glanced at him. “Why not?”
Tubbo shrugged, already reaching for his own food. “What would I even do without you?”
Tommy smiled into his tea. Yourself, he thought. But he didn't say it. He didn't need to.