He Used To Sing To The Flowers

~~~

"He used to sing to the flowers." They'd whisper whenever he passed, a cold glare as he kept moving forward.

"What happened?" Their friends would always whisper back.

He would always have to pretend that he couldn't hear. Couldn't see the odd stares, couldn't feel the pity oozing off of the strangers. It was hard, but Tommy managed.

He couldn't really blame them, after all, death followed wherever he went. Flowers once bloomed wherever he stood, and now anything he touches wilts, a testament to the finale. He, just like the plants he touched, began to wilt. Something had clicked off, and his purpose suddenly had disappeared. Only a husk of the boy he used to be, he found himself wandering pointlessly, not caring about what others thought of his strange appearance. Old friends tried to contact him, but he never responded, and after a while, they all either gave up or forgot.

A sad story Tommy's life was, and every pitying glance, every small whisper, every stranger's stare, reminded him of every part of his life he wanted so desperately to forget.

He would always sing to the flowers. The soft hum of the song Hallelujah was believed by him to make the flowers grow and bloom. And they did.

He was always embarrassed by it. Wilbur wasn't. Wilbur was always proud of the quirk- more than happy to share a talent with his younger brother.

And so whenever they met someone new, Wilbur would always tell them.

"Did you know Tommy sings to the flowers? That's why our anthem is to the tune of Hallelujah!" And Tommy would get red in the face, yell some obscenities and stomp away.

Truth be told, Tommy was proud that L'Manburg's anthem was in honour of him.

After all, when he sang to the plants of L'Manburg, they grew over and fixed the seemingly permanent scars of war. Grass grew greener and taller than it ever did, lilies and poppies grew over the valley and vines grew up the walls, adding colour to the bleak black.

But what Tommy was proudest of was that his singing brought wildflowers into their country. The bright vibrant colours and smell of the flowers was nothing compared to the smile on Tubbo's face when he saw what the flowers brought with them- bees. Lots and lots of bees. Tommy couldn't be happier about how he cheered his friend up with the surprise.

"Look at that, bee boy! They must really like you." He told Tubbo with a strong pat on the back, who in turn shook his head and thanked Tommy for the flowers.

Life was honestly perfect. Tubbo would run around with the bees, practicing fighting with Jack, Niki baking cake for the group and Wilbur playing guitar from the Camarvan (with Fundy by his side) to accompany Tommy, sitting on the top of the wall, singing.

When Quackity came to L'Manburg and a fair election was promised, Tommy wasn't worried. Maybe Wilbur and Tommy were a little full of themselves, but Tommy knew they would win. How could they not? Especially after what their singing had done for the nature in the bordered off land.

When they were preparing for the election, Tommy sang to the vines and grasses to cover the podium with a fresh greenery. He sang to the trees to provide good shade for the server members, and he sang to the flowers to create a lovely array of colours.

When they lost, something disconnected. Maybe Schlatt and Quackity and George missed it, but he knew Tubbo could tell. He knew Niki and Jack and Fundy could tell, but most of all he knew Wilbur could tell. The panic in his voice as he pushed Tommy through the crowds to run to safety wasn't as nerve-wracking as the way his face fell when he announced the winners of the vote, and the way his eyes widened when he, and undoubtedly every citizen of L'Manburg, saw something, for the first time, break.