tommy does, in fact, wake him up that night. he's shaking, and crying, and breathing too rapidly, so tubbo wakes up and pulls him to sit down, helping him calm his breathing. somehow they end up lying on their backs side by side, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. soft light comes from the window, making a thing streak of silver dance across the duvet.
the quiet is calming at night, when the world is still, where nothing really exists outside of the moon, and the sky, and the blankets around one's ankles. at night, you can ignore anything you want.
tommy clears his throat. "i think i'm still dead, sometimes," he says in a rare show of vulnerability.
"are we sharing feelings today?" tubbo jokes. he knows tommy appreciates it when he keeps the tone light, and, if tubbo is good at anything, he's good at being tommy's friend. he really hopes that doesn't change.
"fuck off," tommy snorts and elbows him in the arm. "i'm just... sometimes i think i'm still dead. that a huge chunk of me is just gone now. it's pretty stupid, innit?"
tubbo hums quietly. "i get it," he says. because he does. he understands, in some weird, fucked up, way that he always does with tommy. through loopholes and half-assed explanations, they understand each other completely. two halves of something shattered. "i think i died a long time ago."
tommy doesn't reply outside of the sound of his breathing.
"every time you die i think you take a piece of me with you."
"...i'm sorry."
"i am too."
tommy cries that night. tubbo holds his hand.
YOU ARE READING
the band-aids are in the left cabinet
FanfictionMADE BY ANONYMOUS ON AO3 (You need an account to read, so I'm putting it here) Summary: he was here. he was in this kitchen, and he was laughing, just a couple months prior. he was here, he was alive, tubbo could reach out and touch him. tubbo is s...
