𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝙸𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚁𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

— tripping on skies —

— sipping waterfalls — 

im so tired <3 i need clout yall please vote 🥺

also warning for someone not caring if they die and anger/implied past ab*se 

"You're..." Tubbo paused, recollecting his thoughts, then he looked back down at the broken brunette. "you're quite the idiot, you know that?" He could understand his grief, of course. Betrayal hurt like hell, and he knew that as fact, on both sides. He wanted to fix George and Dream's partnership before it was too late; hoping it wouldn't end like him and Tommy's friendship. George rolled his eyes, too tired to put any malice into it, and stared at the clouds. It was beginning to get darker now. The day'd passed too quickly. 

"I am. For falling for a hero, and for feeling so sad now." He groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "So fucking stupid." Tubbo breathed out a small sigh, the building swaying dangerously under their feet. George didn't notice it; if he did, he made no motion of wariness. 

Tubbo could survive if the entire building fell on him. It would be painful as all hell and he wouldn't be able to move for days, but dying isn't a problem, as he can always wake up again later. Not immortality, mind you. Just (annoyingly, sometimes) good healing. George, if Tubbo couldn't get to him in time, could not survive the building falling on him, or falling beneath his feet. If he tried he could save himself. Probably. But he probably didn't want to try very hard right now.

"What if I told you're not an idiot for those reasons? What if I told you that right now, maybe three blocks away, Dream is going to fix the mess we're all in, and he's gonna come back and explain it all in his own words? What if I told you, George, that there's something you don't understand that only he can explain after this is over? Now, help me out of this god forsaken broken mess of a tower or I'll show Dream pictures of your emo phase. The pics from your old Instagram." 

George stared at him, mouth fallen open. He clamped it shut, collected his thoughts, and glared at Tubbo. "How did you find those pictures?" Tubbo grinned, but didn't say anything else. That prompted a tired but begrudgingly hopeful smile from the older man. "Fine. I'll hear him out. But if he makes me cry sad tears again, I'm going to leave the thing we had behind. Savvy?" 

Tubbo nodded. "Obviously."

𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ

Good exhaled, leaning his head back and swirling his drink around. He had spilled the last one he got, and Aya had brought him a new one when he asked, even though they hated being his own little assistant. Aya had as many debts to pay off as the next person. Good adored being able to pull their strings so they could pull other people's, the chaos of outside delightfully devastating. 

Exactly what he always wanted. 

He knew all those good people wouldn't be able to stop themselves from helping him when he showed off all the horrible injustices the Hero Council was doing. All of them, so easily persuaded, so quick to join and throw their lives away. Almost laughable, if he was being honest. He didn't know that it would be that easy to sway all of them, to manipulate them as easily as ribbons, change their opinion or everyone, even on themselves. He was powerful. And now, just as they figured it out, it was too late! A shame for them. A great show for him. 

Aya coughed, taking a shuttering hand and placing it on their chest. Good narrowed his eyes in confusion, but they paid him no mind, only taking a shaky breath and struggled to compose themselves. He sat up straighter. "Aya?" 

They looked up. "Yes, Good?" Their voice was ragged and rough at the edges, ripped like paper and full of exhaustion. He stared into space for a second, thinking of what to say next, then sharply tapped his knuckle to the polished desk. "How's the control keeping?" He spat, leaning back against his chair. They sighed, steadying themselves and rubbing their temple, the hesitance to speak only making Good more irritated. He rolled his eyes angrily. "I asked you a question."

"Oh my god, you're acting like a cishet frat guy right now. I asked you a question, wah-wah-wah." Someone behind him mocked. Aya looked up, eyes shining with hope. Good felt a thread of sweat drip down the back of his neck. Maia eyed him coolly, voice sharper than the two daggers she flipped casually, menacingly; "Now, how about you step the fuck away from my sibling." 

₊❏❜🥛 ⋮ ࿐ྂ 

Dream, Bad, and Skeppy had split up; Skeppy and Bad were staying together, and Dream was on his way to where he hoped he might find Tubbo, and maybe George. He wasn't sure what to do about George. He hadn't had the time to explain, so he did what he did best— he ran away; or in this case, flew. Well, it wasn't as much flying as making himself weightless, but you get the point. 

Dream knew that was a jerky thing to do. His mind had blanked. He just hoped Tubbo had convinced George not to kill him on sight... 

It only took a couple of minutes for him to get to the building, colossal but collapsing to the brink of almost leaning on the skyscrapers around it. He shielded his eyes when he looked up at it even though it wasn't that bright— the sun was slowly sinking down into the ground, painting the clouds brilliant oranges and pinks, what was left of the Hero Tower's glass reflecting the light. Dream sighed, slowly, regaining himself; then he rose up, just slightly, so his feet weren't touching the ground, and glided forward until he could touch the concrete if he reached out. 

It had only been a little while, maybe thirty minutes?, surely George wasn't too mad... right? It wasn't like he had left him on read for weeks or anything. Only half an hour. He couldn't be completely pissed. 

Dream was trying not to overthink, it wasn't exactly working. That was okay, though; in the end, saving the lives of civilians came before his stupid crush on the villain. Yes; he had admitted it to himself, ironically moments before he jumped out a window, away from him. The universe works in funny ways sometimes. Dream didn't even think he could blame "the universe" for what he did this time. 

Tubbo and George were walking down what remained of a staircase, taking slow, deliberate steps, strands George's hair falling in front of his face almost ethereally. His eyes were shining with both the wet of tears and bright fire of determination, in theory opposites, but in this case fused together. He faltered, voice not working as he wanted it to, hand stuck reaching forward to nothing. Neither George nor Tubbo noticed him through the window. 

He let himself become heavy for just a second before catching himself again, one floor lower. He stared at the stairs through the glass, waiting for the pair to come down. Maybe he'd be able to speak this time. Maybe he would have to wait until they were out of the building and he didn't have a choice. 

He could see their shoes. Don't give yourself time to think. 

Dream flitted inside, breaking the window, hearing the shard crackles as he made them weightless. He said the most stupid and bland thing he'd ever say, the only thing that he thought of— "Hey," he blurted, eyeing George's deadpan expression nervously, "why didn't you fly after me?" 

"I didn't think of it. I didn't really want to. You left, you can't expect me to come after you every time, you know?" George replied coolly, voice unreadable. On the inside, he was a flurry of both indignation and relief, not completely happy with feeling either, resulting in a fire worthy of a messed up chemistry class. 

Tubbo stood awkwardly to the side. Men. He thought, somehow being ironic and unironic at the same time. 

"That's..." Dream paused. "That's fair." George cocked his eyebrow, and Dream stumbled to find more words to say, something to make it okay until he could explain. Really explain. 

Sometimes it just takes two sentences, five words. 

"I'm sorry. I love you."