𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝙸𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚁𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

|𝟙𝟝| 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀𝕗 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 𝔼𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝔸𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥?

Trigger warnings: I'm... sorry?? Angst 

"Wait— Tommy?" Tubbo took a step back, stumbling over nothing. He dropped his arms and his entire body deflated, the mirth from just a minute ago leaving him like air from a balloon. The hero— Tommy, he supposed, hesitantly walked closer. Techno tightened his grip on his blade and put an arm protectively in front of his friend. 

"No, no, you're not Tubbo— you're not! There's no way... he wouldn't..." Tubbo gently pushed Techno's arm away, giving it a small squeeze; a sign of don't worry. Tommy's eyes looked to be watering. Techno's fluttered wide, his mouth dropping open slightly. 

Innit. That's Innit. Oh god, please no.  

Innit was the hero he had trained when he was still a good guy, when he wasn't pink, when he wasn't Technoblade. The blonde had been loud and energetic, clumsy but learnt quickly, and he fit right in with their group. Sleepy Bois Inc. It made his heart feel like it was trapped in a blizzard to remember the fond moments they had together, like each snowflake had ragged edges. 

Tommy had grown so much. From the kid that chased him around with a cardboard sword, playing heroes, to one holding an actual sword, an actual hero. Guilt bubbled up like lava. He choked on the words he wanted to say, but Tommy didn't know it was him, and Tubbo seemed to know him, and shit they still had to leave, and— 

"Tommy... I'm so sorry..." Tubbo wasn't crying. His eyes were devastated, his hands were shaking, and he looked like he was about to collapse, but he wasn't crying. Tommy was trying not to, but small sobs wracked his body still, drops falling down from behind his mask. He couldn't wipe them away because he couldn't show his face, couldn't show anything. What a sick thing to realize. 

"Tubbo, how could you?" All of his words had the same amount of emphasis, equal bits of watery emotions. Tubbo wrapped his arms around himself, turning away from both of them. He didn't want Tommy to know. Not now. Not like this. He wanted to tell him by his choice, not because he took too long leaving.  

"... I don't know, Tommy..." Tommy threw his arms down, sadness evaporating into anger, and stuck his sword into the ground with such force it cracked the concrete. Techno flinched. Tommy's eyes flicked over at his movement, leaving his gaze for Tubbo's. His mood shifted again, the tiny outburst leaving the hero with nothing but the miserable truth. Him and Tubbo. Another pair pitted against each other. 

"Tommy, I'm sorry!" Tubbo pleaded for his turned back. Techno put a hand on his shoulder, almost crumpling by how little light there was in the boy's face. His eyes that used to glint happily, smile that used to make dimples on his cheeks... All of the joy was leached out of him, guilt and pure, unbridled sadness carved on his features. 

"I know, Tubbo." Tommy unsheathed his sword from the road, pointing it at the brunette. "I am too." 

· • —– ٠✤٠—– • · 

Tubbo locked himself in his room when they got home that night; only coming out red-faced and shaking to hand Maia his ripped sweater and overalls before leaving immediately. Each of them tried knocking, Techno a quiet, hesitant tap, Maia worriedly rapping on his door, Philip not being able to bring himself to even touch the wood. 

"Tubbo? We made dinner... and dessert, if you want any..." Sapnap, having been told what occurred by Techno, asked in a low voice. No reply. Not even a sound. Tubbo hadn't said anything, no sniffles, no sounds from his computer setup he loved so much, just echoing silence. "It's chocolate chip cookies." 

 Techno stood in the hall. He didn't have dinner. Just leaned against the wall, eyes on the ceiling to avoid any eye contact. There wasn't any way to heal the slash on his leg that Tommy gave him without Tubbo, but he didn't really want to heal it yet, so he just let it hurt. How cliché this all was. It didn't hurt as much as his chest did, and he had yet to be struck there.  

 He might've fallen asleep standing there, as he closed his eyes, a second passed, and then the clock read eleven. Soft snores drifted through the air, and rustles of a fitful sleep came from Tubbo's room. His eyebrow furrowed, but he walked away, knowing Tubbo wanted to be left alone. He walked to his room at the end of the hall. George and Dream were passed out on the couch, not touching, but their breathing was matched, and what greater intimacy is there than that? 

 He tripped on a book on the floor when he stepped through his doorframe, sighing as he picked himself up and into his bed. He didn't pull the covers over his body, didn't change into more comfortable, less bloody clothes, just plopped onto bed and fell into a more state of unconsciousness that sleep.  

｡o°✥✤✣　　✣✤✥°o｡  

It was snowing! How odd. How peculiarly lovely. Darryl stood in the middle of a sea of white, fluffy pieces drifting through the air and stopping gracefully on his eyelashes and collecting in his hair. Everything was a little hazy; mysterious, even. Déjà vu, like he had seen this before, in a dream. The sun was rising, beams of morning light fading in with the bright golden yellow of the sky, clouds only thin wisps despite the falling snow. 

He waded through the blanket of frost slowly, the wind quieting and playing with snowflakes, making them shimmer as they swirled around his body. There wasn't a place he was going to. He was just walking. It changed from day to night, stars winking into shining like tiny, bright freckles on the face of the night sky. Darryl smiled at them. 

When he looked back to where he was headed, a path had cleared. Black sand, like pieces of diamond, made a road leading up to a figure. 

Zak. 

The sight of him sent an unmistakable pang of love in his chest; happiness similar to seeing the icy fog on your car window sparkle as you drive past streetlights spreading like liquid gold through his blood. Zak gazed at him, offering his adorable giggle. Darryl sped closer to him, grinning from ear to ear. But when he approached near enough to touch, Zak's body turned into a flurry of snow, and blew away. 

Then Bad woke up. He was in his room, at the base, in his bed. Someone was making breakfast, the sound bacon sizzling and batter for something being whisked a cheerful background noise. The dream had made him have a bit of gloom settle in his stomach, but he had to carry on, even though missing Skeppy made his heart feel like someone had taken an axe to it. 

"Morning!" Philip stood holding a pan and a bowl of pancake batter, looking very confused and slightly concerned. Maia sat on the table— not one of the chairs, table— reading a new book. Sapnap was using fire to cook bacon. Their conversation halted when he walked in.

"Good morning Bad. Can you?" Philip replied, motioning vaguely to the pancakes. He nodded, raising an eyebrow. 

"What were you talking about?" Maia glared at Sapnap, who threw a piece of raw bacon at her face. She flicked it away. 

"... We're discussing a plan. A plan to ruin the hero society." Two dollops of batter hit the pan with a sizzle, spreading out into uneven circles. Sapnap continued. "If gone well, this will all have been worth it." 

"Ruining the hero society?" Bad asked, talking over his shoulder and flipping the pancakes. Maia intervened, standing up and slapping the piece of bacon to the back of Sapnap's head.  

"And making a new one. Plan N-H. New Heroes." 

Y'know what's more pog than voting? Following my editor because she's amazing @kittedcotten