We Could Be Heroes, Big Man

03*

Tommy wanted to find out. Who was Schlatt? And why had he come storming in with the audacity to shove Wilbur to the ground like he was above him?

"What about Wilbur? He looked hurt."

Tubbo cracked his fingers with a slight cringe playing on his lips. "He's probably fine. Phil will take care of it. Let's find you a book."

Tommy decided for the moment he would let Tubbo help him find a book to read. Not because he wanted a book, but because this Schlatt guy seemed to make Tubbo tense. A distraction might help. Besides, maybe he would find a book he might enjoy. He wouldn't. He was sure of it, but he was giving himself the benefit of the doubt.

However, the commotion going on outside the library was overwhelming Tommy's senses and he couldn't focus on Tubbo. It was like listening to two foster parents arguing. Do we keep the troublesome child or do we throw him back to social services? Is the child worth the money at the cost of our sanity? Keep the child and I'll leave you.

"I'm sorry, Tubbo. I need to see what's happening." Tommy decided. He turned away from the brunet boy and to the door.

"No, Tommy, wait—"

When Tommy opened the door, his heart dropped. There was blood. There was blood everywhere. It looked like Phil had just stepped in. Wilbur was on the ground still, but it wasn't him on the floor covered in blood. It was the Schlatt guy, and Techno was standing over him with Phil in between them.

Blood. Blood. There was so much blood. It was the ground, on the couch, on the walls. Wilbur had blood on him, too. Techno was covered in it, as was Schlatt. Phil had splashes of it on his face and maybe even a bit on his shirt. It was becoming unclear now. There was too much of it. Had someone died? Surely not. The Schlatt guy seemed to be screaming, but what was he saying?

It was There was so much

Is this real?
Dad?

glass every dad?

where

is he gone?

dead?

"Tommy!"

Tommy finally came back to reality, head snapping to Tubbo. He wasn't in the doorway anymore. He was sitting on a bench in the library. Tubbo must've pulled him away from the doorway, but he didn't remember it.

"What happened?" Tommy asked. He looked around. It was like in a flash, he was... what was he doing?

"You looked out the door and just froze. You weren't responding to me, and then you just started crying so I pulled you away. Are you okay?" Tubbo was crouched in front of Tommy, holding his hands tightly with etched eyebrows.

"Did I say anything?"

"Something about your dad. . ." Tubbo seemed unsure. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. . ." Tommy actually didn't know. He had never experienced something like that. What had his therapist called it? Dissociation? No, but he cried. Did he have a panic attack while dissociated? Was that possible? Or maybe the panic attack was so bad he just didn't remember it. Either way, he couldn't even remember what had caused it. Tubbo said he looked out the door. What was outside the door? No, wait, he didn't want to know. Whatever caused it wasn't worth remembering. "Sorry."

"No it's okay. Don't apologize." Tubbo smiled, sitting down next to Tommy. "It just startled me is all. You can't control stuff like that."

"Maybe." Tommy glanced at the door. "I can't even remember what happened."