sleepy bois inc oneshots

clean pink, dirty blonde

Red cardigan

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"Tommy! I have a present for you." Tommy jerked in his mound of blankets and his raccoon ears flicked in acknowledgement. "Okay, I'll be up in a sec!" He replied, voice just as loud.

Tommy reluctantly peeled the many layers of covers from off him and stood slowly, feeling his knees pop. He stretched, tail swaying, and slouched his posture.

He tiredly climbed up the ladder and popped his blonde head through the hole, meeting Techno's eyes. Techno hummed, and waved him up. Tommy nodded and hopped onto the floor.

He stood and brushed the dust off his legs. He walked next to Techno and watched him pull out a neatly folded red cardigan. When he turned to Tommy fully, he smiled, tusks jutting out of his lips.

Tommy's eyes widened. "Did you make this just for me?" He exclaimed, aura brightening by the nanosecond. When Techno nodded and handed the clothing over, Tommy almost passed out.

The fabric was so comfortable, and the color was perfect. Not too dull and not too bright. He looked up at Techno. "Thank you so much, Tech! This is awesome!"

He stared at the cardigan in awe as Techno flushed red. He heard him mutter out, "you're welcome," before Tommy grinned up at him and ran off into his little den.

Tommy threw himself on his bed and hurriedly put the gift on. He slipped his arms through and adjusted the collar against his neck, sighing. It was fantastic.

He smiled to himself and giddily laughed, shoving his face into his blankets. Techno was nice when he wanted to be. He yawned and splayed his limbs over his duvet and huffed, closing his eyes.

-

When he opened them again, he was at home. Where was home, again? Oh, right. He was at Snowchester. Tommy stood from his spot on the couch and rubbed his eyes. His ears twitched, straining to pick up on any movement or noise. Nothing.

Ranboo and Tubbo were gone, probably with Quackity and Wilbur. Man, they sent Michael and Shroud to Foolish as well. He was alone for now.

He trudged around the large, mostly empty room, and fidgeted with the ends of his- oh. He still had it. The red cardigan.

Tommy walked to the bathroom and stared at the mirror. Not only did he look very different, but the cardigan also changed a bit. It was no longer perfect. No longer the same shade of red he always liked. It was duller.

Maybe it was poetic, in a way. Tommy had changed, had been dulled by the people around him, and his clothes reflected that. Wilbur had said something like that to him, once. A very long time ago.

He left the bathroom.