𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙨𝙢𝙥 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙨 ༄

put your head on my shoulder- tubbo fic

Tubbo knew grief. It enveloped him in a warm hug each night, pulling him deeper into the covers, smothering him. He knew its gentle graces, arms reaching out, tempting. He knew its cold grasp, tight chokehold, never letting go. Tubbo was well acquainted with grief, how could he not be?
Grief had first said hello tentatively, after Eret had led them to the final control room with cold eyes and an eerie smile. Everything Tubbo had ever known was flipped on its head. He was lost, swirling in lies, having met Death himself. He grieved for everyone that day. Tubbo never wanted to feel grief's lingering touches ever again.
But he did, oh god he did. He felt it as he locked eyes with a man he once again had put blind faith into. And as the fireworks spread blooming red across his chest and face, he mourned for what could've been.
Grief came again, and again. Tubbo sobbed heavily as Philza, a father figure, stabbed Wilbur for all to see. Tubbo felt hope leave him as his great country was blown to smithereens. Grief held him in the wreckage, as everything crumbled down around them.
But he stayed strong. He built his country up from its crater into something special again. And even though he hated looking in the mirror, even though he felt the whispers of his own cabinet members, he persevered. He didn't let grief control him anymore.
And then Tubbo lost his best friend. It wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to exile Tommy. But Tubbo was tired. He was tired of not being listened to. So even when it stung looking into Tommy's fearful eyes, he said the words. And even when watching Dream escort Tommy far away, he didn't let himself grieve.
But grief never stayed away for too long. It was like an annoying bug, returning to whisper in his ears. It told him of explosions and grassy fields and one-block towers. The day Tubbo visited Tommy in exile was the day the skies opened and rained for the first time in months. And Tubbo cried with it, his tears mixing with the droplets on his face, screaming at the world for taking his best friend away from him. And he blamed himself. Perhaps he should've visited sooner. Perhaps he should've never exiled him in the first place. And so grief returned, taking its perch on Tubbo's back, crushing his soul, leaving him drained of emotion.
Tubbo vowed to never feel that way again. It didn't seem real. Tommy, the dirty crime boy... dead? The hero, banished to hell, gone. It felt impossible that he was truly gone.
And he wasn't. Once again Tubbo's world turned sideways as he locked eyes with icy blue ones and stared in shock at the boy in front of him. Oh how he had wanted to hug him with crushing arms. But Technoblade, the same man with fireworks and empty apologies blocked his way. So Tubbo stayed silent.
Mourning had a different definition now. His best friend, believed to be dead, was very much alive. But grief's cold grasp was still locked around his shoulders, leading him blindly. Tubbo didn't know how to grieve someone that was still alive.
So he didn't. He locked up his emotions. He created Snowchester, his brainchild. He defeated the greatest enemy on the server. He got the discs. He saved his best friend. He got married. He settled down. Grief no longer clung to him like rain onto grassy fields, but rather followed in his shadow. It was bearable, manageable.
And then he got the news. Sam, with his permanent worry lines and horrified expression, uttering the worst words Tubbo could possibly hear in his entire life. His world shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, the sky rained acid and the grassy fields turned yellow. Life seemed to leave the server at that very moment.
Tommy was dead, really dead.
Tubbo couldn't remember much after that moment. Only fleeting glimpses of Ranboo's hands holding him steady, and his voice soothing the screams around him. Was he the one screaming? He couldn't tell. The world tipped sideways and Tubbo melted into the grass, once again succumbing to grief's clutches. Tommy was dead. Gone was the golden boy, the one that left Tubbo clutching his sides in laughter and a great big smile. The one that never left his side. The one that Tubbo had exiled. The one that had saved him, countless times. The one that radiated the sun and made the grass green. He was gone.
Grief was Tubbo's best friend. It held his hand as he traversed the server each day, watched carefully by Ranboo. Ranboo treated him like a piece of glass, and Tubbo hated it. He hated being seen as weak. How could he be weak when he had survived so much? How could he be weak with grief whispering in his ear? Tubbo was fine. Tommy was dead but he was fine and his best friend was dead but he was fine.
Days melted together as Tubbo saw the sun less and less. He had taken to spending time in his cabin in the woods, only accepting Ranboo as a visitor. The taller boy held Tubbo close each time he cried, despite the burns blooming on his shirt. Tubbo hated it, hated this, but Ranboo insisted on being there for him.
It was exhausting, grief. Tubbo had taken to hating its existence in his life, the way it weighed heavy on his shoulders and chained him to his room. He missed the sun ever so much, and even more so the green of nature. But it was still winter, and the window view only gave way to barren white.
Ranboo managed to coax Tubbo out of his cabin one day, evading his complaints and promising him it would be worth it. Tubbo begrudgingly complied and followed the enderman across the bay to the server hub. Tubbo hadn't been here since the day Tommy died, and seeing it all again formed a pit in his stomach. He swallowed, shoving down grief's tempting hands. The two boys walked along the path, Ranboo dragging the smaller one along. The sun hurt Tubbo's eyes, but he was glad to see it. Snow was slowly retreating from the grass as its shoots began to grow through the soil. Tubbo took it as a sign, as stupid as it was. Maybe, just maybe, things would get better.
They reached the Bee N' Boo Hotel, their prized project, left untouched in the months Tubbo had grieved. Next to it was the BigInnit Hotel, its flashing red sign impossible to miss. Tubbo smiled at it, despite the pain in his eyes.
"I uh- I thought you might want to see it again, and um, we can work on our hotel? If you want," Ranboo asked hesitantly.
Tubbo sighed internally. He knew Ranboo meant well, but he wasn't sure if he was up for building.
"Hmm, okay bossman, how about you do the work, and I watch," He replied, smug.
Ranboo stuttered in protest, "Uh- Fine."
Tubbo let slip the smallest of smiles, which Ranboo returned. He made his way to sit on the edge of the path and watch as the enderboy got to work. Birds flew high above, weaving between clouds. Ranboo added to the noise with cheerful humming. Bees darted about, gathering nectar from the allium flowers dotting the grass. If Tubbo closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was back in summer, before Tommy's death, before wars and explosions, before everything, just hearing two discs play a melody.
His daydream didn't last long. Tubbo heard Ranboo squeak in surprise, and cracked one eye open to see what happened. He saw the tall boy, face pale, trembling with a grass block in hand.
"Ranboo? Everything alright big man?"
Ranboo turned to face him, his eyes glinting in the sun. He shakily pointed in the distance, some ways down the path, and whispered, "Ghost!"
Tubbo followed his gaze and saw exactly what had made Ranboo so terrified. What the hell?!
A familiar boy stood, equally shocked, at the end of the path. Tubbo staggered backwards, not believing his eyes. Oh god, he was hallucinating wasn't he. All the times he had faked being on drugs were nothing like this. He was fucking hallucinating because real people don't see dead people because he was hallucinating his best friend because his best friend was dead and oh god was he dead he didn't want to be dead and fuck was ranboo dead because his dead best friend was there he was standing there and-
Tubbo crashed into the hotel. He had his eyes locked on Tommy's icy blue ones the whole time and had failed to notice the spruce wood planks behind him. Tubbo shook his head, but Tommy was still there. Ranboo stood a few feet away, still pale, muttering something about demons and exorcism.
Tubbo didn't know what to think. Seeing Tommy's face again, alive, had thrown him down a tunnel in his brain he had recently managed to close. Grief was creeping out, latching onto his thoughts and turning them to dust. It was clutching him in a tight hold and blinding his vision. Suddenly he was choking and black spots appeared and hell he was dying for real-
"Tubbo." His vision cleared.
Tommy, with his piercing gaze and golden hair and stupid red shirt stood in front of him. Close enough to reach out and touch him even. At some point during Tubbo's break down, Tommy had walked over to meet him. He certainly looked real, but so had Ghostbur the first time he saw him. Tubbo traced his face, looking for a gray complexion and translucent skin. Tommy watched as Tubbo took it all in, doing the same to the shorter boy, who he hadn't seen, really seen, in months.
"You're not real," Tubbo choked out, eyes wide.
"Fuck off man, I am! I am fuckin' real!" Tommy shot back, indignant.
"You DIED!"
"DON'T SAY THAT I FUCKING DIED, DON'T SAY THAT!"
"Then- what- how- I don't understand. Pinch me."
"No you pinch me!"
"No, pinch me!"
Tommy reached out and pinched Tubbo on his shoulder.
Tubbo yelped and stumbled backwards, eyes like saucers. "What the hell?!"
"You asked me to pinch you, man!" Tommy exclaimed. "Look, don't fucking mention death okay, I'm too fuckin- I don't wanna hear it."
"Okay! Okay, I won't, I promise."
The two boys eyed each other curiously. A lot had changed between the two of them, and they almost seemed to look different in each other's eyes. Tommy's once fluffy hair lay disheveled and mangy atop his head. His face was grimy and small scars etched his skin. He stood tense, as if preparing for an attack at any moment, eyes watching carefully. Tubbo stood opposite, carrying himself as though he would collapse from exhaustion at any given moment. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, and his clothes were dirty from continuous use. The two of them were quite the pair, having lived through what they did.
A silent conversation hung in the air. Each equally grateful to see the other, but hesitant and wary to make full contact. They missed each other greatly, like the flower misses the sun, but they needed space. Too many times had they trusted blindly and fell to lies. Too many times had their hearts been broken. Too many times had grief sat upon their shoulders and taken space in their head.
So they settled for a safe distance, for now. Cracked grins and bright eyes shone as they strolled down the prime path. Tubbo could see the grass turning greener as Tommy walked over it once more. Everything was returning to as it was, and Tubbo knew it.
Tubbo turned to face the golden smiling boy in front of him, and grief said its goodbyes.