Tommy & Tubbo || Platonic Oneshots

Children

So, I went over all the tragic events of the Dream SMP that involved Tommy and Tubbo (just a lot of battles, really) and then I remembered that both Tommy and Tubbo are still kids (in canon and real life) so that gave me good material for a short, mildly sad oneshot :)

                        
Tubbo

      Phil had come to visit. Not with Ranboo, which might have made a little sense; no, he just came to Snowchester on his own. It was completely unexpected, seeing as he barely interacted with me anymore and didn't seem to care that much about Michael to check in on him, but I figured it was maybe something to do with the Syndicate making sure that we still weren't a government or anything like that.

      When he came up to me as I was about to go into my house, I screamed and almost stabbed him in the neck.

      "Woah, calm down, Tubbo, it's just me." He chuckled a little and held his hands up to show that he meant no harm.

      I frowned and corrected my posture from where I'd gone into a defensive stance. "Phil? Why're you here?"

      He had a sad look in his eyes as he spoke, his gaze never leaving the knife I held subconsciously in my hand. "I just wanted to check in on you, I guess."

      "Why?" I asked, even more confused than before as I slipped the knife back into my boot.

      He took a deep breath and gestured at the open door. "Can I come inside? It's a bit cold out here."

      "Uh.. Sure?" I shrugged, letting him step inside before me and closing the door once I was inside as well.

      I went over to the ladder that led to Michael's attic room and began making my way up to him. Phil saw and followed me up, being careful about the trapdoor when he got up.

      I bent down and picked Michael up from where he was staring at me on the floor, making a grabbing gesture with his hands. He made a content sound when I held him close, and I smiled.

      I then turned to Phil, who was still by the trapdoor. "So, why're you here, again?"

      He didn't reply. Instead, he was staring at me and Michael with that same sad look that he had earlier. I frowned at him.

      "Phil? What's wrong, Big Man?"

      He sighed. "I.. It's just- You're so young, Tubbo, and you've already been through so much. I don't understand how you're keeping it together after all that's happened."

      "What d'you mean? What're you talking about?"

      "You- You're seventeen, Tubbo. You're still a kid. You and Tommy, and Ranboo, as well. I guess I'm just worried for you all. You've been through fucking wars, yet you're all acting like it's just another regular thing that happened and go on with your days. That's not normal for kids. You're supposed to live a normal childhood with normal parents that care for you, not instinctively draw a weapon when someone surprises you."

      I didn't really like the conversation that Phil had started. His eyes looked so sad. I didn't understand. I didn't like that. Why was he being so strange, all of a sudden?

      "Phil, you aren't my dad. Or Tommy's. Or Ranboo's. We aren't your kids, so you don't need to worry about us." I said simply, wanting more than anything for the conversation to end.

      "I know," He said quietly, looking around the room before staring at Michael again, who was curled up safely in my arms and gently squeezing the fluff on my coat with a rotting hand. "But I am a dad. And so are you. I don't expect you to understand it all, yet - you are still young - but I want you to know that you have a chance to leave this place. With Ranboo, too. You could take Michael far away from here and give him the childhood that he deserves. Don't let him live the life that you were forced to."

      And, with that, Phil opened the trapdoor by his feet and left. I heard his footsteps on the wooden planks below, and then the gentle opening and closing sounds of the door.

      I was confused, to say the least. I hadn't really thought about anything he'd told me - I honestly hadn't understood most of it. I felt odd, like I was upset or something, maybe even angry, but I had no idea why.

      A small, worried-sounding noise broke through my thoughts, and I felt a tiny, gentle touch on my cheek. I looked down at Michael, and he had a strange, concerned look in his eye. He somehow knew something was wrong when I didn't.

      I hadn't even realized that I was crying.

      Why was I crying?

      I didn't understand.

                        
Total Word Count: 810