Chapter Text
“Tommy Innit!”
The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of the words sinking into them. The feeling of dread, guilt, longing, despair that clawed desperately at their conscious, sinking its teeth into their gut, clogging their minds. It felt like a misty fog had coated their thoughts, like the world itself had shifted off its axis.
Techno opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form words or even a single coherent thought. The ghost’s words had felt like they were clogging his throat. Like thorny vines, snaking up through his lungs and sprouting roses in his vocal chords. Figuratively, of course.
Goosebumps coated his arms, making his body more shaky than it was on the regular. He gasped for air, or at least it felt like it. He felt like he was drowning, like water had filled up his lungs. Like hands had snaked up to his neck and squeezed. Every second he spent in the room felt like another stab to his heart.
Suddenly, everything was too much; overwhelming. The walls were closing in on him, the shadows were taunting, he couldn't breathe, his vision was cloudy, his hands were clammy, his ears were ringing.
He couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe he couldn't—
“Hey, pinkie, you with us?” The ghost snapped his fingers, he blinked a few times. He was back in the room. The walls weren't closing in, the room had a decent amount of natural light, he could breathe. He was okay. He was okay.
He was never okay.
All eyes were on him and it made his curl into himself more than he already had been.
“Yeah, uh— sorry, didn't mean to— uh— freak out like that.” He covered quickly, ignoring the way everyone seemed skeptical(Wilbur was skeptical, enraged, venomous. The other two were concerned).
“You weren't… freaking out?” Tubbo replied hesitantly, making air quotation marks at the ‘freaking out’ part. “You just kinda… zoned out? Like, nothing could snap you out of it. Freaky as fuck, if you ask me.” He shrugged, earning a light smack from Ranboo.
“Tubbo! You can’t just— say that!” They chided. Techno however? Well, Techno laughed. Like, had to put his hand over his mouth, eyes creased, bright laughter.
Tubbo joined in soon after and, for a moment, it was like nothing had happened. It seemed like Tommy hadn't died, and they hadn't discovered his ghost right fucking there.
Of course, nothing good ever lasts for Technoblade(and co). Soon after, Wilbur snapped his fingers and pointed towards the ghost impatiently, snapping the three out of their happy haze.
“Ahem, if you three are done being fucking idiots,” All three of them looked to Wilbur, properly affronted. “There's the ghost of my dead best friend here.”
“Our best friend, Wilbur.”
“After what you did? Absolutely not.”
Techno relented, unable to bring up a fight. He tried to ignore the way Wilbur faltered at this
Now that he thought of it, chat had been unusually quiet. Usually, chat would be shouting a series of ‘skill issue’ or ‘L’ at him, or insulting Wilbur.
He didn't have time to worry about that, however. Now, his attention needed to be on the situation at hand. Tubbo was grumbling something incoherent under his breath, probably something about Wilbur, and Ranboo was sat with his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees and head placed neatly on his knees.
He looked to the middle to see the spectre—Tommy—babbling on about anything and everything. He couldn't help but melt into the familiarity.
For a second, it was almost like he could pretend this was the real Tommy, the alive one who had a bright smile and even brighter smile. The kid who walked into a room and didn't need to demand attention because all immediately averted to him. But this wasn't him, it wasn’t. Tommy was dead and gone, this was just some ghost pretending to be him
Techno snarled, averting his gaze from where the ghost sat in the middle, curling into himself, practically vibrating with anger. It was misdirected and he knew it, he was thinking irrationally. It wasn't the ghost’s fault he died, nor was it Tommy’s—Tommy Tommy, not his spirit, the husk of his past self.
Say, now that he thought of it—
“Why are you acting like you don't know us?” Techno blurted out, still refusing to meet the spectre’s stare. Tommy tilted his head.
“Because… I don't? I mean, I might have— I don't remember much from my life, like small bits and pieces but y’know— no faces.”
Techno felt his heart break yet again.
Wilbur looked pained, facial expression scrunched together. “Well, what do you remember, Tommy?”
“Well… I had two brothers, I think. I know I had two people who cared about me a-lot. I remember one of them used to dote on me and the other one was more subtle with their affection.”
Wilbur and Techno had looks of equal shock. He was talking about them. Tommy was talking about them. Holy fucking shit, Tommy remembered them—
Well, not them. But he remembered who they were, kind of. Not that the “brothers” were the two, but he knew he had them in his life.
“Tommy, what did they look li—”
“They sound lovely, Tommy.” Techno cut in, shooting Wilbur a look that said ‘shut the hell up for once in your petty life’, which, surprisingly, Wilbur listened to; closing his mouth, but not without sticking his tongue out at Techno.
“I’m sure they were.” Tommy replied sadly, a small smile curving onto his lips. “Y’know, I feel like they have something to do with why I’m still here.” He continued, Techno had to swallow the bile growing in his throat to prevent himself from puking on the spot.
Everything that had happened today was too much. For the first time since Tommy died and Wilbur left, Techno had agreed to leave his home, only because Tubbo had threatened to spill some secrets that Techno was… less than eager to have out in the public (“How the hell do you know about that?” “I have my ways.” “Tommy told you.” “Tommy told me.”)
He left his house expecting to have a quick, get in, get out sort of thing, not whatever was going on. Wilbur hadn't insulted him in 20 minutes, Tommy was in the room with them, even if just as a ghost, chat wasn't talking, how much weirder could today get?
It could get so much weirder.
—---------------
“Say, Tommy, isn't your time almost up?” Wilbur asked, Tommy jumped.
“Fuck— Yeah, yeah it is.” He sighed sadly, pressing his translucent hand to where his heart should be. “Guess you all gotta go, make sure to come back soon!”
He waved them off and, albeit reluctantly, they exited the room.
“Hey, creepy spirit—”
“—Tommy—”
“—can we explore the house before we go?” Tubbo asked, hands folded neatly behind his back.
Tommy hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, I don't see why not.”
The brunette grinned, taking off down the stairs. Ranboo, who had been unusually quiet during the interaction with the ghost, sighed and leveled a stare at Tommy. “Is there anything you don't want leaving the home?”
“I don't think so, why—”
“Because Tubbo will most definitely rob you.” Ranboo deadpanned, Wilbur giggled at the affronted expression the spectre made.
“Fine, just— Don't let him take the record player.”
“Will do,” Ranboo nodded, following Tubbo down the staircase and immediately forgetting what Tommy had told him.
As soon as the two left, Tommy disappeared into thin air, but the two left in the room could tell he was still there. Watching, waiting, slinking through the shadows.
Wilbur grabbed Techno’s wrist and dragged him down the stairs and out of the house.
“Wilbur—”
“Shush. I’m still mad at you asshole.”
“Figured.”
“Now, let me speak, Techno.”
“Go on,” Techno cocked a brow.
"So ghosts have unfinished business on earth... right?" Wilbur asked. Even if Wilbur had always been the one more interested in the paranormal whils Techno preferred mythology, he wanted to double check with Techno (which was stupid, honestly).
"Yeah."
"And Tommy said his 'brothers' had something to do with why he's still here.."
"Yeah..?" Techno seemed to be picking up what Wilbur was putting down, but he didn't like it.
"So, I propose we don't tell him. If he doesn't know, he can't move on."
"You little fucker." Techno laughed, placing his head in his hand. “That's so stupid, I’m in.”
“Yeah? Well you look stupid, mr. The Blade.”
They both ignored how easy it was to fall back into the old banter. They couldn't get used to it, not again. After today, they’d all go home and then move on with their lives and forget about each other.
they could never forget each other.
—---------------
Tubbo explored through the manor; the kitchen, dining room, living room, bedrooms, bathrooms, the garden, backyard. All coming up empty handed.
It was as Tubbo was exiting the house that his eyes landed on an old record player with a new looking record on it, playing a broken melody. Without much of a second thought, he grabbed it and bolted out of the house after Ranboo.
What could he say, he wanted a souvenir.
If a certain ghost with a soul attached to a record titled ‘Mellohi’ followed Tubbo and Ranboo home that night, they were either too tired or just too unobservant to notice.