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His comm buzzes, and Jimmy leans over to grab it, tapping at the screen and making it light up, brightening a little in the hushed tones of the morning. He finishes pouring the water into the mugs, watching as it swirls the teabags around the bottom of the mugs a little, water battering against the sides of the mug. He lets them sit for a minute, stirring them absently with a spoon. He presses them against the side of the mug as he pulls them out, watching as a few more drops of tea drip back into the mug, the liquid inside still swirling a little.
He dumps the tea bags into the sink, collecting a mug in either hand, careful not to burn himself on the hot ceramic, even as he has to curl his hand awkwardly around the handle. Jimmy’s still reading the message as he sets the mug down in front of him, nudging it towards him when he doesn't seem inclined to take it.
He still doesn't move, and worry is beginning to churn in his stomach a little, several thoughts rushing through his mind, too fast for him to actually process let alone grasp at as Jimmy continues to stare at the comm screen.
“Jimmy?” He asks, and he blinks, sucking in a breath, as though he’s only just noticed he’s not been breathing. Right. Okay. He pries his comm from Jimmy’s hands, slowly unclenching his hands from where they've clenched around the edges. He turns it towards himself, even as he shuffles a little closer to Jimmy, nudging him with a wing. He only worries a little more when Jimmy leans into the touch
The screen has gone dim once he actually looks at it, and he taps it to get it to wake back up again. The messages he’s received are still open, so it’s not even like Jimmy got distracted by something else. It’s a private message from Sausage. His stomach drops a little more, opening into a gaping chasm as he hurries to read the actual message.
<MythicalSausage> Hekp portakl wtihg tomtm
<MythicalSausage> its pulkign ush throu
God. Fuck . The comm clatters onto the table, which seems to startle Jimmy awake. He glances up at him, and he looks down. “Get your coat.” He orders, and Jimmy simply nods, chair screeching back, then toppling onto the floor with a bang. He flinches at the noise, but Jimmy’s long gone, away to the cupboard to retrieve his coat. Hopefully.
God. He allows himself a moment to crumple, burying his hands in his hair and pulling. His hands bump against his antlers, still there even as they're hidden beneath the charm. It’s an illusion, it doesn't get rid of them completely, but he wishes it did now as he struggles to pull at his hair, hands clenching and unclenching uselessly. God. He’d just let Tommy go, not a single thought to actually ask Sausage what they would be doing in the Crystal Cliffs. He could tell that they weren't going to be doing anything particularly good, but it also wasn't going to be something horrendously bad. Still, what kind of guardian is he if he can't even keep Tommy safe?
The cupboard door slams shut, and he looks up, releasing his hair from his grip, only just realising that he’s meant to be doing something, he’s meant to be going and getting ready to leave.
He pulls his shoes on with a hurry, doing his laces up quickly. They're definitely not tight enough, but he can't bring himself to care. The only thing on his mind right now is Tommy, and one look at Jimmy’s equally stricken face is enough to convey the same.
He flings his door open, even as the snow building up outside, the way it always does, cascades in, slumping over and onto his carpet. He steps over it, uncaring, even as the icy wind rushes over him, ruffling his feathers and needling at his face. He barely feels it, and Jimmy’s beside him in seconds, cheeks already beginning to redden rapidly, breaths gushing around his face in clouds.
He grabs onto his hand, finding it warm against the cold of the outside, and the two of them begin to march towards the cliff, perfectly in step with the other, even as Jimmy ducks beneath his wing, seeking the last shreds of warmth before they leave. The door slams shut behind them, a benevolent gust of wind shutting it over and preventing them from returning to a freezing house. He doesn't worry about locking it - there’s no one actually dumb enough to try and break into his house.
Jimmy ducks from beneath his wing as he stretches them out, feathers ruffled from the wind already. He pauses a moment, gauging the air currents, before simply stepping off the side of the cliff, wings open to catch him. He floats a few feet above where he initially took off from, and he swoops lower, hand stretching out to Jimmy, where he’s waiting on the cliff edge for him.
Their hands lock together, and he pulls Jimmy forward, just enough to tug him off the edge of the cliff and spark his elytra into opening. He waits, watching as they slowly snap open, waiting until he’s drifting alongside him, no longer an overbearing weight on his wings.
He ducks then, and Jimmy simply holds tighter onto his hand. He doesn't bother with rockets anymore, and he’s glad for the lack of distractions currently. Explosions beside his head, rattling in his ears, is the last thing he needs right now. Jimmy doesn't protest the speed, even as his wings do, muscles aching mere moments in.
He jolts to the side, tugging Jimmy with him. The outcrop of rock ahead skims just past his side, barely missing them. He forges on, waiting until the mountains below them fall away. He waits, skimming across the snow until it begins to dip. He follows the land, slowly descending downwards, snow close enough that he could reach out and touch it if he wanted to.
He doesn't, and it falls away a few moments later, revealing the city nestled below the cliff face, tucked close to the rocky landform. He dives, pulling Jimmy along with him, headed straight for the tower that peeks just a little above the other rooftops, standing out just barely among the pointed rooftops and shimmering skylights.
He skids to a halt in the top, snow slipping beneath his feet and he flares his wings out. They crack at the sudden motion, an ache nestling itself in the crook of his wing. An aching reminder of a long broken bone. He works past the ache, only struggling to stay upright a little as the snow beneath him seems to betray him, sending him slipping left and right. He’s sure he would have made an unceremonious descent down the steps if Jimmy hadn't been there to grab onto his shoulder, pulling him backwards and steadying him.
His breath comes out in harsh pants, wreathing around his head, crowning him as he stares at Jimmy. His heart seems to thunder in his chest, beating an incessant rhythm against his ribcage as he stares into Jimmy’s eyes. They're wide too, but with concern rather than panic, and he steps closer a few seconds later, rocking onto the balls of his feet to cup his face and pull their foreheads together.
His breath continues to form into clouds, circling around both of their heads as Jimmy watches him. “You're okay.” Jimmy says, “Just breathe for me, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, and he copies, feeling the shuddering of his bones begin to calm a little, even with one breath.
Jimmy breathes out slowly, breath barely visible in the space between them, and he copies, slumping a little further. He leans against Jimmy, leaning into his touch as he slowly breathes, listening as Jimmy speaks, quiet nothings murmured gently to him.
“Thank you.” He manages, his heart still jackrabbiting in his chest, but he feels as though he’s less likely to spontaneously combust on the spot. Or throw up. He pulls back, and Jimmy’s touch lingers on his skin a moment longer until he pulls back too.
Gem chooses now to appear, which he’s grateful for because he really doesn't know how he would have coped if she appeared while he was bordering on a panic attack. Her hat shields her from the worst of the wind and snow, the excessively large brim flapping back and forth, smacking her in the face a few times as she crouches on the stairs, half-sheltered from the storm outside. It’s better than it was a few moments ago, the flurries of snow less violent.
She watches him with wide eyes, which do nothing to help calm his recently slowed heart. At this rate he’s going to have a heart attack before he’s five hundred, and that would be really inconvenient right now, actually. She ducks back down the stairs, away from the slowly decreasing storm, and he follows, just as eager to be out of the snow, even as the cold doesn't bite at his face in the same way it does with Jimmy.
“Please tell me you have good news.” He pleads, keeping his eyes fixed on her even as a shivering Jimmy bundles himself beneath his wings, barely peeking over the tops of the feathers to continue watching Gem.
“I have news.” She tries, her wide eyes doing nothing to help him calm down in the way Jimmy keeps reminding him to, “I know what book they used, and probably what spell it was. The only problem is that, um, they've taken the book with them?” She shrugs, shoulders rising to her ears as she does so, “Wherever that is.”
“Gem. That’s really not helping.”
“I know, I know,” she shakes her head, breathing stuttering a little as she exhales. "It was a book on inter-server portals, and theoreticals on how they could be created. It was an old book, we think it might be based on how the portals were originally created-"
" Gem ." Gem blinks at that, sucking in a sharp breath. "What can we do."
She pauses, eyes fixed steadfastly on the ground just in front of her. “Well, I know the magical energy signature? There were a few traces of it in the room when I arrived back, and it’s unique to each server, but not to each portal, kind of like a fingerprint, but as I said-” she cuts herself off, exhaling a little more harshly than before. “I just need a line-up of portals to match it to, basically, I need to find the signature of those so that I can find where they went.
That’s…actually a lot easier to do than he thought it would be. He exchanges a slow look with Jimmy, before looking back to her again. “I know a way we can get that arranged.
“Fuck.” He hisses, even as tears build in his eyes and he reminds himself that he’s angry , not sad. He curls his hands into the dirt beneath him, watching as the dirt slowly clumps beneath his nails, sticking uncomfortably to his skin. “Fuck, fuck .” He pulls them free from the grass, wiping them hurriedly on his trousers, even as he winces at destroying the probably really expensive clothes Scott bought for him. Fuck.
He drags his hands through his hair, pausing at the nape of his neck and tugging furiously. He gasps a little at the pain, but only curls his fingers in deeper. He’s not actually sure where he picked the habit up from, but it’s a recent one and it’s already not working as effectively as he hoped it would
“Hey,” someone grabs his wrist, pulling it from his hair, “Don't, don't do that, yeah?”
He looks up, blinking the rain - it's rain, it's rain , not tears, he doesn't cry, he can't cry - from his eyes, allowing it to slip down his face. Sausage releases his wrist from his grip, allowing it to fall back to the ground. "Why not?" He spits out, continuing to glare at Sausage, even as the sirens continue to blare, going on and on and on, never stopping, never ending. It wails in his ears, battering relentlessly at his senses until all he wants to do is curl up in a small ball and never get back up again.
"Because you'll hurt yourself, just," Sausage sighs, standing up, towering over him, "Let's get somewhere a little more sheltered than this, we won't be able to do much in all this rain." He lets out a small laugh at that, eyes flicking over the landscape around him. It’s a little more nervous than it normally is, quieter, almost nervous. He swallows, anxiety flooding through him as he realises how utterly fucked he is- how utterly and completely fucked both of them are.
He pushes himself to his feet, smacking Sausage's hand away from him when he tries to offer it for help. "It's shit, I know." He looks at the same landscape as Sausage, the pockmarked and destroyed landscape he can't help but still feel fondness for, even as the other winces and opens his mouth to protest. "Don't even try it," he interrupts, "This place is full of everything that's just shit . How do you think I ended up here in the first place?"
"That's not true." Sausage's hand lands on his shoulder, and he stiffens under it, waiting for his fingers to dig in, right to the bone, to just contract and grind his bones together. "That's not true, you ended up somewhere, completely by no fault of your own. That does not make you a- a shit person just for that." His fingers don't tighten, they don't dig in and search to hurt.
"You don't know anything about me."
"I might not. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to blame a child for what happened to them."
"I'm not a fucking child." He spits.
"You are. And you'd be a baby in comparison to me anyway, let's not do this." He pulls him into a hug, partially covering him with his cloak. "Now, where's somewhere we can go to hide from all this rain?"
The sirens almost manage to fade into nothing as he directs Sausage towards his old house, voice muffled by the cloak he's rather certain the other is trying to swaddle him in without him noticing. They still ring in his ears, the rain slipping a little more freely down his face as he huddles beneath the cloak, sheltered from the rain completely.
"Thanks again for doing this." He smiles back at Noxite, standing in front of the portal. "Don't know what we would have done without you." His smile is strained, and he knows they can see it. He puts it on anyway, carefully ignoring the way his heart is still pounding, as though it’s trying to escape from his chest. It’s bordering on painful now, and he’s really hoping that if he ignores it enough it’ll disappear entirely.
"Died or something." They shrug, "How would I know?"
"You're hilarious." Gem steps up beside him, staff clutched tightly in her hands. Really, it hadn't required quite as many emperors as the currently have behind them, but Sausage is gone too, so obviously Pearl and fWhip are coming with them. And Jimmy's going, so Lizzie’s following along with him, and Joel's following her. He's just glad that Katherine and Shrub's date managed to fall on this day, because he really doubts they'd have managed to sneak a few more people in with them.
The firewalls were bad, but not that bad. Still, it was almost pathetic that he gave them a single poke, just a singular prod, and they collapsed in on themselves, disintegrating into whatever the code version of dust is. He hadn't actually expected them to put up a fight, it would have been a little embarrassing for him if they had.
Jimmy steps up beside him, and he watches his hands shake a little, clenched tightly around the fishing spear he’s taken to using in the past few years. He doesn't really understand the appeal of it, it’s weighted far too heavily on one end.
His sword sits nice and light at his side, safely sheathed and waiting to be pulled free at a moment’s notice.
“I’ll be waiting at the portal the whole time,” Noxite says, “If anyone needs anything, even if it’s back-up, send someone back and we’ll be ready.”
“Thank you.” His smile is a little less strained this time, and Jimmy slips his hand into his own, squeezing it once. He squeezes it back, and Noxite takes a step backwards, down and off the small plinth of the portal.
He looks back at it, the swirling magic contained within the portal carrying nothing but dread with the sight of it. He had wished that it wasn't this portal as Gem made her way down the line, testing the magic of each of them, searching for a match to the signature she had felt earlier.
As they stepped closer and closer to this one, he had slowly realised that the universe really was that cruel. And, really, he should have figured that out a long time ago, even as he attempts to deny it, even as he continues to refuse the small, neatly written plaque that declares this portal the portal to the Dream SMP.
He steps towards the magic, feels it tugging at him, pulling him in slowly. Jimmy steps with him, tugging him the last step into the magic, even as it washes over both of them uncomfortably. It makes his stomach churn, and he closes his eyes against the ache that’s slowly building in them.
It disappears a second later, and they're stumbling out of the portal, still holding hands, in the middle of nowhere.
He spins in a slow circle, ears ringing from the portal and his head pounding in tandem with it. Jimmy lets his hand slip free of his, staring into the distance at nothing. “Can you hear that?” He asks.
He looks at him, and Jimmy looks back, even as Lizzie steps through the portal, barely stumbling. Her trident clunks against the ground, sparks fizzling around the prongs as she surveys the area.
“The ringing?” Jimmy looks at him, “It almost sounds like sirens.”
He swallows, the ringing that still hasn't faded from his ears only growing louder. It sounds much more like wailing now, almost mechanical in its pitch. “Oh god,” he steps in the direction of the noise, “The sirens.” Jimmy looks at him oddly, “The sirens , Jimmy, the sirens.”
“The sirens?” Jimmy steps closer to him, grabbing onto his arms, “What sirens, what do you mean?”
Clarity washes over him, and he glances back at the small crowd behind them, then back at Jimmy. “The prison sirens.” He manages, taking another step in the direction of the sound. He hears Jimmy’s sharp intake of breath, even as he continues to walk away, wings slowly spreading behind him.
Fireworks shatter the silence, overpowering the wailing of the siren, and he startles as he leaps into the air, barely managing to actually get off the ground. Jimmy’s already in the air, his emergency supply of rockets clutched tightly in one hand, flint and steel at the ready to light the next one.
He shoots ahead of the group, and he hears more rockets firing behind him. The wind rushes in his ears, rain battering against his face as he flies onwards. The sirens slowly get louder, wailing in his ears and drowning out everything else. They're the only things he can hear, the only thing ringing in his ears as he continues on his journey.
The rain turns icy as he flies, and when what he can only assume is the prison comes into view, it’s slowly forming into hail. It’s a hulking building, dark and imposing against the skyline. He drops to the ground at the shore, dropping like a stone and only opening his wings at the last moment, even as he hears a voice in his head, berating him for the strain on his wings.
He can feel it too, the ache that had been building slowly in his bone, focused around a single line, a singular point that has seriously chosen the worst day to flare up again. Someone lands beside him, a little heavily, and the sand shifts beneath him as he stands up straighter, tucking his wings closer and pretending they're not currently aching.
There’s people in the water, standing in the shallows several feet away from them. More and more people land behind him, and he can see the people slowly turning towards him, their aggressive stands only turning more tense.
He doesn't care, wings spreading out again as he spies two familiar figures among the crowd of people. He’s gone a few seconds later, ignoring the shout from Jimmy. The water sprays around him, kicking up behind him, and he’s landing in it a moment later, gathering Tommy into his arms, pulling him close, even as the other struggles, pushing against him.
He ignores the mutters around them, pulling back, holding Tommy’s shoulders to check him over for injuries. His cheek is cut, a slow trickle of blood making its way down. He wipes at it, watching as Tommy flinches a little at the touch, and he pulls back a few seconds later.
“Who did this?” He asks, and he hears Sausage shift behind him, water swirling around him. Tommy opens his mouth to respond, eyes glancing over to the side, towards the people huddled there.
“I did.” Someone steps forward, and he turns to face them, glare turning withering. “Got a problem with it?”
Dream looks the same as he ever was, neon green hoodie only a little torn and faded. He’s still got that same cocky stance, axe balanced on his shoulder. The only thing different is his face, his mask is cracked, revealing eyes that seem to bore into him. He gets the impression that he’s smiling.
“I do, actually.” He straightens up. “Sausage, take Tommy back to the shoreline.” He’s reluctant to let Tommy go, but he nudges him towards Sausage anyway. Dream watches him go, eyes flicking after their movements. He doesn't turn to watch them retreat, keeping his glare solely fixed on Dream.
The people behind him move, shifting a little and their armour clanks. He looks over to them, watching as Philza and Technoblade both take a short step backwards. Their movements are slow through, the netherite they're wearing weighs them down.
He sees their worried glances anyway, the way they're eyeing him up and down. He feels a little underdressed for this event, lacking his usual armour. Dream looks back at him, and his eye crinkles as he smiles, flashing with something dangerous.
“You have a lot of nerve, ordering people around like that on my server.” He tilts his head a little to the side, axe tilting with his shoulders, gleaming in the light. He’s not fazed, continuing to stare at Dream. “A lot of nerve showing up with such…intact wings.”
He does shudder then, when Dream’s eyes trail over his wings, as though they're a particularly tasty piece of meat. Philza draws back a little further, and it’s only then that he gets a good view at the tattered remains of his feathers. It looks as though they've been ripped from their beds in several places, and it bends in all the wrong ways.
He looks back to Dream, feeling faintly sick, even as he straightens up, towering over the other. The water swirls uncomfortably around his legs, already soaked through completely, filling his boots with water.
“You would threaten me?” He asks.
Dream laughs, loud and manic and far too drawn out. It doesn't unsettle him nearly as much as he suspects it’s meant to. “I can do whatever I want.” He snaps, amusement dripping from his voice. “I don't know what that little brat has told you, but I'm sure he’s told you about me .” He steps forward, pulling his axe from his shoulder, holding it at the ready. “But I'm sure he’s told you that I'm an Admin , right?”
“He has.” He straightens up a little, refusing to back down, even as the man continues to try and intimidate him.
“And you still stand up to me?” He sounds a little surprised at that. “Oh,” he laughs, drawing it, “Oh I'm going to enjoy tearing your wings apart.”
“I don't think you will.” Dream pauses at that, looking to him. He steps forward, hand going to his neck rather than his sword. “You would dare threaten the Champion of a God?” His hand closes around cold metal, and he yanks, feeling rather than seeing as the illusion snaps back.
He watches as Dream takes a step back, focused on his antlers rather than his face.
He launches forward, pulling his sword with a quick movement. Dream reacts even quicker, bringing his axe up to his sword and blocking it. He twists it, and he pulls back, dancing back across the water as Dream swipes after him.
Dream laughs, shoulders shaking, and he raises his axe again. “I can't help but see that you have a broken antler already, my dear Champion.” His chest heaves, as though he’s already out of breath, hoodie shuddering with the weight of his breaths. “They’ll look nice on my wall regardless.”
The axe catches his arm, and he staggers. Dream’s on him in a moment, axe pressed against his chin, pushing his head back and back and back. He kicks him, boot connecting with a solid thud and Dream folds, falling into the water with a splash.
He kicks him whilst he’s down, taking pleasure in the solid way his foot connects with Dream’s chest, a stream of bubbles erupting from his mouth.
He gasps, yanking his foot back as Dream emerges, cackling. His ankle throbs a little, but he pushes weight onto it anyway. He raises his sword to meet Dream’s axe, their blades scraping against each other. It’s silent now, the prison sirens have long since faded, leaving only the clattering of their weapons to fill the air.
He drops, ducking beneath Dream’s swing, rolling out of the way. His wings spread a little with the movement. He jerks backwards as Dream catches one, yanking him backwards, and down into the water with a knee in the chest.
His breath escapes him, and Dream shoves him under the water a few moments later, planting his foot firmly on his chest. He struggles, bubbles escaping from him far faster than he would like as Dream continues to press and press, down and down, until he’s not sure there’s any oxygen left in his lungs.
Dream pries his sword from his hands, nails scratching against his skin. He struggles, dust kicking up around him as he disturbs the water around him. He stills as something presses against his antler, slowly digging in deeper and deeper.
He’s on his feet a moment later, Dream staring at him in shock from where he’s been thrown back. He grins at him, even as his chest heaves and his clothes drip water. The water around him is ice, and it crackles beneath his feet as he walks over it.
Dream stands back up, axe still clutched in his hands, both hands now, arms shaking as he holds it. He flicks a hand, and the ice swathes him, wrapping solidly around his body and trapping his arms against his sides.
He watches as Dream struggles, stepping closer and closer to him until he’s mere inches from his face. Dream stops his struggling then to glare at him, his visible eye narrowed and annoyed.
“You don't speak like that to a Champion.” He hisses, and his voice crackles a little. He watches as Dream registers his words, eyes widening, before narrowing again.
“You don't know shit .” He spits, even as the green sparks gathering around his hands are repeatedly dissipated, his ice absorbing any magic the other might be trying to summon.
“I've lived longer than you could ever dream.” He says. “I've seen things you could only ever imagine, and I've suffered more than you could think. You are a speck on my timeline, and I will forget you as easily as a bug. I know your type, I was around when your type disappeared, chased off and killed for their egotism, for their belief that they were unbeatable.”
A small spike of ice slowly creeps its way from the rest of the ice, pressing into his throat. He watches as Dream starts to panic, struggling again, but with the desperation of a caged animal, something led to the slaughter that’s realised its fate too late. Much, much too late.
“I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Dream .” He spits the name, and he watches as Dream pauses again, “You are just as killable as your brethren, you are not invincible, and it’s unfortunate that it’s taken me to knock this sense into you.” He can hear yells on the shoreline, but he doesn't pull his eyes away from Dream’s. “It’s unfortunate, really, because someone else might have shown you mercy.”
He turns away before it happens, not even giving him the decency of having someone else watch his last moments. He hears him choke though, the last spark of magic sending that tiny shard of ice through his throat.
There are more people on the shoreline than there were before, and he walks towards them, ice spreading out beneath his feet as he approaches the arguing bunch. He watches as Lizzie slams Techno to the ground in a few seconds, pinning him there with a singular foot.
Tommy looks up as he approaches, eyes widening, before he darts towards him. He catches him easily, wrapping his wings around both of them and allowing Tommy to cling closer. When he looks up, Jimmy’s watching him, with an almost proud grin on his face.
“You're okay now.” He says to Tommy, whispering the promise, even as yelling breaks out on the shore again. Two people are struggling to make their way towards them, and he stares at them for a moment, before looking back down to Tommy again.
“There’s some people trying to get to us.” He says, looking back at them again, and Tommy pulls back from the hug, twisting to try and look at them. His wings block his view, and he tugs them down sharply. “Little goat person and a tall black and white one.” He says, even as Tommy stares at them. “I'm assuming that’s Tubbo and Ranboo?”
“Yeah.” Tommy drags a hand through his hair, clutching at it tightly before releasing it, “Yeah, that would be them.”
“Do you want to speak to them?”
“I think I'm going to whether or not I want to.” Tommy snorts.
“We can just go now, get back to the portal if you don't want to.” He watches as Tommy glances between him and his friends (ex-friends?).
“No,” Tommy sighs, shoulders slumping, “I wanna talk to them, but.” He pauses. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course I will.” He releases Tommy from the hug entirely, gesturing for fWhip to stop restraining the teenagers. He watches as Tubbo bounds ahead of the other, skidding a little on his ice, hooves making dangerous cracks in it that he’s quick to seal over.
“I thought you were dead!” He yells as he nears, eyes flashing with anger, and Tommy shrinks back towards him, but not completely. “I thought you were dead !” He yells again, grabbing at Tommy’s shoulders and shaking him. “How,” his voice quietens a little and he slumps forward, “How could you let me think you were dead, Tommy?”
Tommy doesn't respond, and he watches, hand half-raised in case Tubbo lunges for him again. He watches, silently, as a few tears slip down Tubbo’s cheeks, even as his shoulders remain strong, in a firm line and with a set jaw that doesn't even tremble.
He watches, as Tommy’s shoulders shake, his hands clenching and unclenching in the air beside his best friend’s shoulders. He watches, silently, as Tommy bows in on himself, a small noise making its way from his throat, but not a single tear escapes his eyes and they remain almost painfully dry.
Ranboo has arrived at Tubbo’s side, towering over him in a way that would be comedic if there weren't two children in front of him moments away from completely breaking down. He pauses, then looks back at Ranboo again, taking in his half-and-half skin, the heterochromia. He pauses, then “Were you the person that tried to break into MCC?”
Ranboo withdraws at that, trying his best not to look guilty and doing a worse job of it than fWhip. He solidly avoids eye contact, bringing both his hands up and lacing them together, fiddling with them anxiously. “No?” He attempts, still not meeting his eyes.
“You might want to make it less of a question next time.” He looks back to Tubbo, who’s still staring at Tommy, waiting for him to say something. Tommy remains silent, his shoulders still shaking as he simply stands there, hunched over, as though waiting to be hit. Or yelled at again.
He eases a wing around his shoulders again, more than a little surprised when Tommy simply slumps into his side, resting against him completely.
Tubbo shifts his focus, watery eyes glaring up at him. “And who are you meant to be? Fuckin’ fairy tale lookin’ bitch.”
“Why does everyone say that.” He complains, reminded of a similarly hostile teenager he had found in his house and asked the exact same question.
“You do like a fairytale bitch,” Tommy admits, breaking his silence, “You've got pointy ears and shit.”
“I'm well aware I have pointy ears,” he sighs, looking to Jimmy as though he’s going to provide any help. He seems perfectly content in cheering Lizzie on, watching as she pins Techno to a tree with her trident. “It’s kind of in the description of being an elf.”
“You don't look much better.” Tubbo redirects his gaze to Tommy, “What are you wearing? You look like a prince.” Tommy looks down at his clothes, as though he’s only just realising that he’s not wearing the scraps he came from this SMP with.
“I mean, I am a king.” He laughs, and Tubbo’s gaze snaps back to him, “It’d look a bit bad if Tommy was still wandering around wearing rags. Axen would have my head for sure.”
“You're a king ?”
“Elvenking of Rivendell, at your service.” He bows a little, grinning as it makes all of the teenagers around him scoff.
“No fuckin’ way.” Tubbo looks between him and Tommy. “You've got an in with a fucking king. Are you shitting me?”
“And his husband.” Jimmy decides that, yeah, he’s going to join the conversation now. Tubbo startles, as does Ranboo, both of them whipping around to face him. He watches as Tubbo looks Jimmy up and down, snorts, then turns back to Scott.
Jimmy stares at the back of Tubbo’s head, before looking up at him. “What did I do?”
He shrugs, and Tubbo doesn't seem keen to give them an explanation for that reaction, simply resuming his staring competition with Tommy. “You still haven't answered my question,” he says, “Why did you let me think you were dead?”
“Because it was easier.” Tommy says, “Because I was gone, I escaped, and if I came back, if I even messaged you, all I would be able to think about is how you didn't - how you're still stuck here, and if I returned, I would be too.” He sniffles, “I just, I couldn't deal with it at the time.”
“We’ve been doing pretty good, honestly.” Tubbo shrugs, leaning back and giving Ranboo an easy smile that Ranboo returns. “I don't want to escape,” he looks back at Tommy, “This place isn't a prison for me. I know it was for you, and I'm not going to stop you, but I've managed to move on here, your moving on was just…a little more literal than we might have first considered.”
“I- I didn't move on .” Tommy gasps. “I was here one moment and gone the next. I don't even know how it happened !”
“But it’s done you good,” Tubbo tips his head to the side, looking Tommy over, “You look better than when I last saw you.”
“No I don't,” Tommy crosses his arms. “Fuck off.”
“Yeah, you do. And I don't resent you for it. Hell, it’s amazing for you and I'm glad you're happy now.”
“Prime, Tubbo, when did you start sounding like an adult?” Tommy laughs, and it’s wet but it’s still a laugh.
“When I adopted a kid.” He grins, proudness cascading off of him in waves. Ranboo places a hand on his shoulder, a golden ring flashing in the light, and wow, that explains a few things. Okay then.
“You got Michael?” Tommy asks, sounding genuinely surprised.
“Yeah, yeah we got Michael.” Tubbo smiles. “Were you worried about him?”
“No.” Tommy frowns, eyes flicking away from Tubbo and back to the shoreline. There’s a few people watching them now, and Lizzie’s released Techno from her trident, but she’s still glaring at him, the prongs of it sparking threateningly. “I think we have an audience.” He says, as though they haven't had an audience this whole time.
“You wanna head back over?” He asks, and Tommy considers it, before nodding.
“Yeah, I just,” he slips out from beneath his wing, already following the others back across the ice, “I just wanna go home, dad.” He slips away a few moments later, and he’s left standing there, staring at his retreating back and wondering whether he realised what he just said.
He finds that it doesn't matter, it makes him grin either way.