the band-aids are in the left cabinet

Chapter 8

tubbo is miserable.

he is excellent at hiding it.

tommy is lying awake at night, like he normally does, and words are replaying in his head.

i've organized three funerals.

he feels kinda really awful about that. one of those funerals was his. he was one of those funerals, and he wasn't there. which made sense, still kinda made him feel like shit, though, because he wasn't there for his best friend. because he was stupid and got himself trapped in prison, because he was jealous and wasn't there even before he died.

maybe he's just fucking stupid.

the ceiling of the spare room in tubbo's mansion has these giant wooden beams across it, and lanterns hang down from chains. it's more interesting to look at than the ceiling of his (admittedly, very shitty) dirt hut, which is alright. way too fancy, way too big, way, way too quiet. but it's alright.

i've organized three funerals.

tommy hasn't organized a funeral. the only person he loved that died came back. and even before then, there wasn't a body to bury. tommy's never actually been to a funeral, shocking as that may be.

i want you to organize my funeral after i die.

he rolls over onto his stomach with a groan.

this is stupid.

hands slam down on tubbo's desk, on top of scattered papers and a wedding ring. "i'm organizing a funeral," tommy says, that familiar glint in his eye.

tubbo blinks at him. "...pardon?"

"i'm organizing a funeral. how do i go about doing that?"

"dude, what the fuck-"

"you have experience! tell me your ways of mourning the deceased."

jesus fucking christ.

tubbo really, really hates tommy sometimes － this may be one of those times. "i don't mourn. i have shit to take care of, i don't have time for that-"

tommy punches him in the arm.

"ow!" tubbo glares at him. "what the fuck, man?!"

"you are so stupid," tommy deadpans. "y'know what, fine. i'll do this myself."

tubbo doesn't say what he's thinking. doesn't say that he doesn't want to have a funeral for ranboo, that would make it real. he doesn't say that he doesn't want to have to take michael with him. he doesn't say a lot these days.

"ok," is what he decides on.

tommy smiles at him.

tubbo looks at his hands.

it's not fair.

it really, really isn't.

ranboo was the best of everyone; he was as close as someone could get to perfect.

tubbo is a mess － he's dirty, he's an asshole, he barely sleeps, he doesn't know how to take care of a child, he's exiled his friend for nothing, he's killed and hurt people, he steals things sometimes... he's a bad person.

ranboo wasn't like that.

it should have been me, tubbo finds himself thinking. i wish we could trade places. "i'm sorry," he whispers to nothing, just hoping and praying that ranboo can hear him from wherever he ended up. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry."

------

wilbur's funeral was silent. completely, completely silent. tubbo was the only one there. he didn't have to do this, he didn't need to have a funeral for a man who died forever ago, but here he was: alone, in a graveyard with only one grave.

'wilbur soot' is etched into the stone, tubbo's shitty handwriting somehow still transferring into carved letters instead of normal words on paper. there's a small bundle of red, blue, and white flowers, tied with a golden yellow ribbon. tubbo organized this mostly for himself.

not even tommy showed up. he was barely even around the ruins of l'manberg anymore, which was understandable.

tubbo was there all the time.

he sat silently in front of wilbur's grave. it feels wrong that tommy isn't here － everything feels wrong.

wilbur is gone.

tubbo doesn't know what to do.

------

schlatt's funeral was different.

everyone made it (except for tommy), and it was full of laughter, jeering, and malicious comments about the former president. it was fun, tubbo will admit. he participated in the bullying of schlatt, and was honestly really happy.

quackity clapped him on the back and said "you did good."

which was nice.

tubbo laughed, and yelled, and let himself chill out. it was lots of things; it was a funeral, it was a party, it was a final goodbye to someone who ruined everyone's lives.