Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I'm sorry Tubbo. I'll make it as painless as possible."

The boy perched on the roof could see his best friend break into a cold sweat at those words. He could almost feel the others heart hammering, probably going faster than his own. But the blonde held his fire. Techno wouldn't do it.

… Right?

Tommy’s whole body tensed as he saw the man lift his crossbody, pointing the tip of the firework straight at Tubbo's chest. The small boy in the cage cowered against the back wall.

Please… Tommy begged Techno in his mind, straightening up in anticipation. Dont..!

The boy still held his fire. He could sense his teammate's uncertainty from a few meters away. Even Wilbur's confidence in their comrade was wavering.

"I'm sorry." Tommy watched in slow motion as Techno lifted up his hand. NO! The boy's mind screamed, hands fumbling with his bow. But it wasn't aimed straight at Techno. By the time the blonde managed to get it locked on his target, Tubbo's mini jail was exploding in a shower of bright firework sparks. "NO!" Tommy leaped off the roof, watching Schlatt and Quakity get caught in the mess of deadly, burning rain.

"TUBBO!" He can't be dead. His mind repeated feverishly as the frantic boy ran towards the stage and started to climb with shaky hands. Somewhere in the background he could make out Wilbur yelling about the button. But Tommy didn't care.

He can't be dead, he can't be dead, he can't-

When the boy finally got up, Techno was gone, and so was Schlatt. Quakity seemed to be trying to crawl away with a deep burn in his side, a bunch of smaller ones littered on his face. But the boy paid no attention to him. He rushed up to the tiny, makeshift jail cell, kicking down the scrawny fence that imprisoned his best friend.

And there he was. Tubbo. Curled into himself at the taller boy's feet. Barely breathing. Tommy crouched down to him immediately, gathering Tubbo's small, shivering frame up into his arms and brushing the hair away from his face.

"Tubbo…" Tommy whispered in a weak voice. The injured boy just kept gasping, his breathing uneven. Tommy examined the boy's injuries. Tubbo’s face was a mixture of different shades or red, and some black on his chin. His eyes were closed. Then Tommy looked down, and he noticed where his best friend took the majority of the hit. Tubbo’s shoulder had a huge burn, which ran all the way down to his waist, tearing through his black suit and curving around his neck and chest.

And even though Tommy's brain screamed and frantically reasoned otherwise, the boy knew there was no way his best friend could survive this. The best thing I can do is be there with him, and make sure I can speak to him one last time. There's so much I haven't told him. And soon he would never get the chance to.

"Tubbo." Tommy tried again, his voice managing to be stronger. The smaller boy shuddered, and his mouth spread into a tiny smile. "Tommy…" His voice was so quiet, the blonde boy could barely hear it. How he wished everyone outside would shut the hell up and stop screaming.

"Tubbo, it's ok. It'll all be ok. You were so brave. And you still are." Tommy's eyes welled up with tears, and he held back a sob.

Tubbo cracked open his right eye and smiled a bit bigger. He reached up a small hand and gripped his best friend's shirt surprisingly hard. "Tommy," he repeated, voice sounding stronger. "Don't give up. Please. For me." Tubbos one open eye starred Tommy down with urgency, his other one covered by a pretty big burn.

"Ok." Tommy spoke steadily, sniffing. "I'm sorry Tubbo. I shouldn't have held my fire." The boy's voice cracked, and he reached a hand up to wipe a stray tear off his cheek.

"It's ok, Tommy. As long as you're alright." Tubbos voice was quieter, weaker. His breathing started to slow down, and Tommy could feel the strength drain from his best friends body. There wasn't any time. No time to say any of the things he wanted to say. No time to confess that he stole the last cookie at dinner that one time, no time to say that it wasn't Wilbur who "borrowed" one of Tubbos honey bottles for a month. No time to say how much he appreciated his best friend.

"Tubbo, I…" Tommy couldn't hold back his tears, so he hugged his best friend as if his life depended on it to hide them. Tubbo didn't need to see Tommy crying during his final moments. The other returned the hug, but barely. "You were the most amazing best friend I could ever ask for." Tommy said into the smaller boy's shoulder.

Tubbo mumbled something that Tommy didn't catch. "Hmm?" The blonde hummed, rocking the boy in his arms and forth slightly, stroking his hair. "Don't give up on it." Tubbo said, a little louder. "Give up on what?" Tommy asked. "L'manburg. Don't give up on it." The brunette whispered. "Never." Tommy reassured. Giving Tubbo's back a pat. The boy had mere seconds left.

"Thank you.." Tubbo managed, before letting out a final breath and relaxing in Tommy's arms. The younger boy gently lowered Tubbo to the ground, leaning away from him. His eyes were closed, and his mouth held the ghost of a smile.

The crowd seemed to have scattered since the incident. Tommy roughly landed on the ground, being extremely careful not to drop the small, lifeless boy he held.

"TOMMY!" Wilbur yelled urgently, running over towards him, but slowing down when he saw the person in the boy's arms. "Tommy…" he whispered, eyes widening. "Is he…” Tommy’s stare hardened, and he looked up to try and keep more tears from descending down his cheeks.

“He’s gone, Wilbur.” Tommy said gruffly, continuing to speed walk as Wilbur stood still in shock. The older man rushed to catch up to the boy. "Tommy, I…" He started.

"Save it." The younger snapped, hugging his best friend's limp body closer. The warmth was already leaving it.

Wilbur shut up, opting to just walk alongside Tommy as the latter wiped his eyes with the hem of his shirt and kept walking, clearly holding back more tears.

~•~

He sat at the grave in the bright orange light of the setting sun. Wilbur had left a few minutes ago to give him some privacy, but Tommy didn't move. Didn't react or say anything. But he owed Tubbo at least that much.

"Tubbo," the boy started, voice hoarse. "Thank you. You were," he let out a strangled sob. "Always such a good friend to me." And he broke down, crying hysterically beside his best friend's grave, surrounded by the bright flowers and bees of Tubbo's favourite little clearing on a mountain next to L'manburg.

Oh, how Tommy wished there was someone to hug him at that very moment. To tell him that it was all going to be ok. Why couldn't he have appreciated Tubbo's affections more? I guess what they say is true. He thought with a sad chuckle. You don't fully appreciate something 'till you lose it.

~•~

"Tommy?" The boy shot up from the ground as a familiar voice called his name. He had unintentionally fallen asleep. Where was he again? "Niki?" He asked the concerned girl. "Tommy, what happened?" She asked in her soft voice. Then everything came rushing back. It was so sudden, Tommy couldn't hold back a sob that straight away arose in his throat. "He's gone." The boy choked out, before breaking down into a crying mess all over again.

He felt a pair of delicate arms around him, trapping him in a warm embrace. "Tommy, it's ok." She soothed. "HOW IS THIS OK?!" Tommy yelled in a sudden burst of anger. "MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD! THINGS ARE FAR FROM OK, NIKI!" Tommy screwed his eyes shut. "He's gone…" The boy whimpered.

"To cry." Niki said softly. Tommy loosened his grip on her shirt a bit, which he hadn't realised was so tight. "I meant that it's ok to cry, Tommy." She stroked his hair gently, rocking them back and forth. The sunlight had long disappeared, and now it was just the two of them, sitting in eachothers arms, and only the crickets could be heard alongside Tommy's gasps and sniffles.

"It's ok to cry, Tommy." Niki repeated, wiping away a few tears of her own. "It's ok to cry."

Chapter Text

The sun shone bright and hot in the evening. The grass fluttered in the wind, and the bees buzzed over the vibrant flowers.

Just how he had liked it.

This would be the time when the two of them walked up to their bench, that wasn't really even theirs. They just spent so much time on it that it became a place unofficially intended for them.

Jokes and laughs would pass between the two friends as they made their way up the hill, exchanging giggles and bright smiles and friendly teasing.

When they had made it up, one of them would slide a disk into the jukebox that stood right by the bench. The sound would jingle in the air, as they could proceed to talk about random things or crack ridiculous jokes until night fell, and it was time to go home.

They both liked it like that.

The wind whispered to the boy making his way up the steep hill. The wind wondered why he was still going up there everyday. There wasn't anyone waiting, after all. And yet the boy persevered.

His muddy shoes crushing the grass underneath them, he made it to the bench. The boy sat down, his mouth widening into a small, shakey smile. "This is how you liked it." The boy's voice was raspy. Maybe from crying, maybe from the fact that he refused to speak with anyone after what happened. These were his first words in days.

"This is how you liked it." He repeated, like a broken record. "Remember?" His voice broke, and his eyes brimmed with tears. "Which one do you think today?" The blonde's voice shook as he took out a few music disks of varying colours. He stood strong, though. At least, for the moment. "Come on, don't be shy. Tell me what you want to put on." His voice got bossier. But only the wind howled in response.

With unsteady hands, the boy slid a red disk into the box. A light, happy tune started hopping around in the air, a sweet melody. "I remember you liked this one a lot." He continued, clearing his throat to try to even out his voice. "It's …" The boy held back a sob that suddenly shot up his throat. "It's not the same without you here!" He suddenly blurted out, lifting his hands to cover the tears streaming from his eyes, to muffle his loud sobs.

The music continued to play, as if nothing was wrong. But everything was so, so wrong. The boy cried for what seemed like hours. Curled up on the wooden seat, knees tucked in and face hidden. His sobs got quieter, less frequent. The blonde kept his eyes closed. If he didn't look, he could almost pretend that his best friend was still there. Right there with him. Just a touch away. Just a pair of his closed eyelids away. He could almost believe it.

But if the brunette was here, he would have done something. Said something. Anything, to let the hurt, broken boy know it was ok. But only the wind and the song reached his ears. The sorrowful boy opened his eyes, the sunlight too bright for him to fully see at first. After his vision adjusted, he looked out onto the fields, the towers, the buildings. He hoped the boy with the green shirt was watching over him. Maybe the small brunette was even sitting right next to him. The only problem was that he was a whole world away.

The blonde boy placed a hand down on the spot next to him, right where his best friend would be sitting. The music combined with the chirping of birds brought a sense of peace to the grieving blonde. He smiled a full smile, for the first time in days, and closed his eyes. "Just how you like it, right, Tubbo?" And he swore he heard a voice in the wind say, "yeah."