Chapter Text
The kid’s park was laid out in tiers on a wide sloping hill. Each one formed a terrace graced by a dinosaur statue that looked as good as what most adults think is good enough for children. Tommy thought the sunset did the things a favor, casting them in dramatic lights that complemented their still-imposing size.
The stair-like path connecting each tier was made of brick and concrete. On both sides, untended grass crawled all over the surface, stems and blades alike nearly a foot tall. They formed little nets that squeaked against Tommy’s shoes, sending their pungent odors into his nose. The smell annoyed him eventually, but he still thanked the overgrowth. It kept his footsteps muffled, allowing him to trail Tubbo without surprising him.
That was what he thought at first. But then, he felt stupid banking on it. There were only a few trees around the park and the statues had so much space between them. Tubbo had definitely seen him shuffling in his peripheral vision when the steps turned to the side. He just didn’t say anything, much less react.
Ouch.
The temptation to run up behind Tubbo for some rough-housing was strong. But Tommy knew better than to indulge it. Out of everyone in the crew, Tubbo was always the most sensitive. He wore his big heart bare on his chest come hell or high water. And he, of all people, shouldn’t try brushing the bruises. Tommy didn’t need Jeb’s posturing to remind him of that.
It’s just that he wanted this over and done with. And fast.
As he kept his eyes on the boy, something tickled the back of Tommy’s mind. Then, he laughed at it internally.
He didn’t remember the last time he took in Tubbo’s profile. But it did not look like that. There was a proud air in the way he held his back, and his shoulders were open, lifting his head high even as he looked downcast. All the weight he put on paid off in the sturdiness of his gait. Aside from his height, there was no way he could look small, no matter how hard he shrunk in his shyness.
He was not the clumsy shophand at the strip mall store anymore.
Warmth trickled in Tommy’s chest. Tubbo had come quite far from where they started. He was proud of him.
He wished he could just tell him that right now. Along with the apology, of course.
After minutes of aimless walking between the path and the terraces, Tubbo came to a stop. Tommy crouched on instinct, thinking the boy would turn around and hurl an insult or a rock.
But no. Instead, Tubbo quietly walked up to the replica of a dinosaur that looked the most peculiar from the rest. It had an elongated body plan that hung close to the ground, starting with a sharp snout and ending on a long tail studded with spikes. Two ridges of kite-like plates ran along its sloping back.
Tommy squinted at it. The image, though quite silly in this rendition, knocked on his memory hard as if it was very important.
And then, it clicked. They made their own replica of this creature, a stegosaurus if he remembered it correctly. It was some random day in Old Manburg, and they sorted through a scrap heap to put the thing together.
It was one of the first things they did together as pals. Tommy’s stomach swelled at the recollection, and the warmth doubled as he wondered whether Tubbo recalled the same things. But of course, he did. He had to! It’s what stopped him in his tracks.
The warmth climbed to the back of Tommy’s eyes. Swiping a hand through them, he was finally set on what to do. With this simple, shared memory, he could finally address Tubbo openly and mend the rift that grew between them.
He took a step forward.
And Tubbo looked back. The glint in his eyes stung Tommy, making his insides wilt. The latter clenched, then unclenched his fists, trying to rally himself.
He took another step.
Tubbo flitted away like a gazelle, up the last flight of steps, past the brontosaurus statue and the sad pole with the faded American flag dangling from the top, and toward the cell towers and groves littering the hillscape. Tommy could only gawk at his speed as he dwindled to a mere point in the horizon before hollering in pursuit.
As his feet pounded on compact soil, his thoughts raced. What was Tubbo doing? He wouldn’t make Jeb, much less the rest of the group, worry by dipping out of sight, surely. Did Tommy’s presence really repel him? Was he pulling him into some wild goose chase before immediately circling back to the wayhouse, leaving Tommy a sweaty, panting mess out of spite? Did whatever fit that took over him back at the campsite take him, as well?
The thought frightened him. What would he do if that were the case? He doubted if he could calm him down the way Wilbur did. And how would he face Jeb and the others then?
His huffing and puffing gave way to whimpers. The cold fire of adrenaline could do nothing to quell the despair clawing at his stomach and chest. Soon, his strength began to fizzle. His steps slowed, and he nearly fell to his face once he stopped. He placed his hands on his knees and wrestled with his breathing. Tears pricked his eyes yet again. Which was bad; that’d make finding Tubbo among the trees in a deepening twilight more difficult.
He took one labored gulp of air, straightened, and cupped his hands to his mouth.
“Tub—”
Thwack.
A pebble hit the back of his head. He yowled in pain, rubbing the sore spot while looking around in frustration.
And then, he found Tubbo. The boy leaned against the trunk of a tall pine, halfway hidden from sight. In his palm, he shook around a few more pebbles, giving them a toss every now and then. He scowled at Tommy, though the furious glint from earlier faded somewhat. Now, there was only an open dejection, a sadness that begged to be answered and would definitely seethe at whatever it might receive.
Tommy had the exact opposite expression. For a second; such was the relief that broke over him like a stuck pipe.
This is it. Please, Tubbo. I’m sorry. I was in too deep and didn’t think about how it made you feel.
“The f*ck are you on?” he bellowed, a look of annoyance taking over.
“Funny you ask that,” Tubbo yelled in reply, catching the last pebble he tossed and holding it tight with the rest in his fist. “Though I guess taking a break from your yammering did us some good.”
Despite the clear lightness of the jibe, it incensed Tommy. There he was, getting desperately worried over what his estranged friend could have done, only to get this.
But he pushed the notion down. He had a mistake to correct.
“You mind if I end it now? Set it all straight for you?” he offered Tubbo. A hint of softness came over the other boy’s face upon hearing those words.
But he was not about to give up his ground. So, he threw another pebble, one Tommy neatly dodged. “Nah, this is better. You’ve got a huge noggin on your knobbly shoulders, Toms. You know that? Bet it’ll make a noise when I land a sound hit.”
A thousand pin-pricks ran across Tommy’s face. He sighed as he began walking up to the grove. “Just let me talk, please.”
Tubbo threw another one, this time at his feet. It nearly grazed Tommy’s shoe. “Stay back,” he warned. “I wanna test my theory.”
“Let me talk!” Tommy yelled, his arms bunching.
The glint flickered back on for a moment. “Sucks when it happens, doesn’t it, Toms? When someone never lets up after you try so many times?”
Whatever tension Tommy held drained out of his body in an instant, replaced by a suffocating heaviness. He lowered his gaze from Tubbo’s eyes. “I know that. I know that, and…”
He lowered his face altogether. “I’m sorry.”
No response came. It was as Tommy expected. The reconciliation would come slowly and begrudgingly, and whatever warmth they once had would have to be kindled again with long, hard work. He didn’t mind that. Getting the first step out of the way was the main point, and everything else would follow.
But then, the silence continued. Tommy shifted his shoes about, wondering if Tubbo was still thinking of a response. He sure did a good job of sounding like he wasn’t there anymore.
Or was he?
Tommy looked up. In response, Tubbo, who was still definitely there, threw yet another shot right at his forehead.
With no pause, Tommy snatched it out of the air. He looked closer at the projectile, admiring the speed at which Tubbo threw it, before letting it roll out of his palm.
He looked up, ready to shoot Tubbo with a questioning brow.
But the boy didn’t give him a chance to shoot. He was already off, the pebbles falling forlorn onto the grass.
Tommy gave chase.
“Oi!”
“Stop following me!”
“Just listen!”
“Piss off!”
Tommy gnashed his teeth in frustration. And yet, his body felt light. The wind whipped across their hair, whistling in their ears as they passed grove after grove of birch and pine. Tubbo would fake a pass before speeding into one of them, and Tommy would follow, lobbing barbs like they were passing hot potatoes back and forth. For all their force, every word felt as light as the autumn air that cooled the sweat on their faces and limbs.
They found themselves near one of the cell towers, tall spires of red and white that stretched so high toward the sky that they seemed to be trying to prick a hole into it. Tubbo shot Tommy a cheeky glance as he sprinted to one of its ponderous legs.
Tommy caught the look, turned to the tower, and felt his stomach lurch.
"Oi, wait!" he called out. But as he feared, Tubbo grabbed hold of the ladder and clambered to the nearest bracing. The speed at which he did this stumped Tommy for a moment, though he shook himself out of it. Every second wasted was a step closer to his dear friend risking his life on a game.
He got to the ladder and looked up, suddenly realizing how high it reached. The minute motion made his head spin.
Again, he shook it off with a puff. His eyes scoured for Tubbo's skittering frame inside the lattice of metal. But the boy was already four bars up.
"That's dangerous, Tubbo!" he cried out again, grasping the closest handle with trembling fingers.
Tubbo's brown head bobbed to the side. "How so?" he hollered back, his voice echoing glibly from the heights. "Can it even be bad if I can do this?"
Then, to Tommy's amazement, Tubbo began to snake across the bars, hoisting himself down and then meandering through the criss-crossing lattice. Every time he landed, the thud reverberated across the tower, the clang and hum taunting Tommy as much as his stunts did.
And then, Tubbo crossed to the other side of the tower. He leaped, landed in a smooth roll, and made for the trees yet again, flashing Tommy an impish grin.
That drew a groan from Tommy. But he was impressed.
He was also grateful that Tubbo went on solid ground again.
With double the gusto, they resumed the chase. The air was different this time: bright despite the dimming of the day. Even their lengthening shadows danced on the grass as they zoomed around like birds relishing their first flight. The world was a whirling carousel of gold, blue, green, orange, and red. And every now and then, their pink faces would flash by: nostrils flared, eyes wide, and mouths stuck in big grins even as they breathed hard.
And then, Tommy heard it: Tubbo chiming in laughter. When was the last time he heard it? The sound was so bright and clear that it felt like music, wrenching yet soothing his chest at the same time.
He laughed along. Their voices filled the canopy of the grove they circled in, so much so that it nearly split apart.
The one momentary hush came when Tubbo took yet another hare-brained step, this time climbing straight up a tree.
Once again, his deftness wowed Tommy. "How do you do that?" he asked breathlessly.
"Tons of practice," Tubbo replied with a shrug, his voice shaky from exertion. He sat on the lowest branch and tapped the spot next to him, all while giving Tommy a self-pleased look.
Tommy's eyes flashed as he flexed his fingers. "Well, I've put hours into this one."
He eyed the trunk of the pine tree, then ran straight at it. Instead of leaping onto its girth with the momentum, he continued to dig his feet into the bark, tilting almost perpendicularly to the ground.
It was Tubbo's turn to gawk in wonder. Tommy managed to make one, two, three, four steps! On the fifth, he kicked hard, sending him in a half-arc away from the trunk, missing Tubbo's branch by a couple of feet.
Just before he fell, he flash-stepped toward the branch, wrapping his arms tightly around it while his legs swung loose. The smile on his face could be sold for a million dollars.
"No fair!" Tubbo protested.
"Who cares?" Tommy replied.
The former responded by twisting off a bundle of pine needles and throwing it into Tommy's face. Then, he leaped over the boy and flash-stepped onto the next tree, leaving him to sputter and flail before finding his footing.
So began the third leg of their chase. The space was narrower, though it made up for it in height. Now they came even closer to being birds, hooting and howling in delight as they zoomed this way and that through the blankets of leaves. The pace picked up, too. They might as well have been the two most wanted the way they were trying to escape each other's grasp. Tommy believed they were practically floating, and any moment now, any slight miscalculation of their next step would send them right into the sea of violet miles above.
Gravity quickly shut that down. In their exhilaration, they both ended up on a branch that barely clung to its trunk. They heard it snap, looked at each other, and then hollered like mad as they suddenly plummeted.
At the last second, Tommy regained his wits. He flash-stepped mid-air, sending them into a groaning, yowling tumble on the grass.
They stopped by bumping into another tree. It shook the branches and sent pine needles cascading from its highest reaches.
The world hushed. Tommy and Tubbo were deep within arm's reach of each other, the former looking up at the other as he laid on his back beneath the latter. The sun stalled in the sky. The earth itself paused its heedless march as it watched them with bated breath.
In that time out of time, all the world was just their faces, their eyes blue against brown, their stifled panting, the smell of herbs and sweat, and their hearts galloping against each other.
And then, they embraced.
No words passed between them, both absorbed in their shared weight. All the trouble that built over the last few days vanished into thin air like slain cursed spirits. There was only warmth now, and the smiles on their faces, and the glimmer in their eyes, and their pulses dancing to one song.
Tubbo broke away first, taking to his feet all of a sudden. The chase was not quite over; a victory lap was still needed, one for the two of them. He pushed Tommy down just as he sat up, getting a yank on his leg in return. They both chuckled and then scurried up the tree they bumped into. No bickering this time, only one purpose: to reach the top together.
And they did, breaching through a thick, lush roof of grays and greens into the open technicolor sky. The sun was already on its westward rest, and it peeked over the mountain ranges in the distance as a parting gift. The wind carried it to them, and they gladly accepted it with deep breaths.
They settled on the crook of a branch just a few notches down to the very top. A content quiet fell on them both as they let the light warm their faces.
"Everything looks so small up here," Tubbo muttered softly. Tommy looked around. They had climbed up the highest tree on the low, rolling hill. To the north, the kid's park winked wanly from the distance, shadowing the parking lot that was now a hazy square from their vantage point. Beyond it, Rapid City spread out in patches of purple and gray in all directions. Most of the landscape was taken over by treetops, and they would undoubtedly cover more of it should the abandonment continue. To the south, the Interstate looked like a thin ribbon winding across plains and hills. At one point, the earth reached further up from its bounds, shrouding itself in great swathes of green and cresting in a great wall of white stone. That was Mt. Rushmore, a monument to an era in American history meant for the ages, now merely the size of its cheapest dioramas.
Indeed, everything looked so small from up here.
And so were they.
The thought... loosened something in Tommy. Something incredibly big yet small enough for his thin, wiry body. It gripped him from head to toe, completely silencing all other thoughts in his head, as if he had just learned how to learn.
"Yeah, it is" was all he could muster for a response.
A beat of silence passed. Then, Tubbo asked in a furtive, quiet voice, "Are you leaving?"
Tommy tried to put some thought into it. It was the big question, after all. Yet try as he might, he could not put together a semblance of deep reflection. His brow refused to furrow, and his lips refused to tighten. The answer came clearly from his mouth like he was always going to say it in the end.
"No. I won't," he replied.
"You swear?" Tubbo asked again, this time with his voice carrying a tiny bit of weight. That didn't pass Tommy's notice at all. With the same easy assurance, he raised his fist and offered it to his friend.
"From the bottom of my heart."
Tubbo turned to him with a wistful expression, the last beams of daylight making his deep-brown hair glow. He said nothing and even ignored Tommy's gesture. The latter wondered why, lowering his fist haltingly. What thoughts were running in Tubbo's head this time?
But then, Tubbo leaned into him, laying his head against his shoulder. He slipped his hand beneath Tommy's arm and placed his hand on his chest.
The move took Tommy aback for a moment, and he held his breath for a punchline or trick that would send him (or them) tumbling down the branches. But neither came.
Which was alright.
He breathed easy, letting the soft pressure from Tubbo's touch lull him into stillness in the blowing wind. His heart, still recovering from all their running, fluttered under the boy's palm. It was an unusually calming mix of sensations, reminding Tommy of the sheer glory of being alive, of being simply, truly here: a small part in a big, big universe.
Peace. There was peace in it, this simple acknowledgment of abandon. And it comforted him even more to know the other times when he felt the same thing. He figured Tubbo was in the same boat.
And that it was what he, too, was looking for in a long while. Because only then did he finally begin to talk.
"Remember Austin?"
Austin. The place where everything changed. Of course, Tommy remembered: the place and the pain that followed. The weight of them both kept his mouth shut. He could only nod once.
"Me, too," Tubbo continued, his voice a sweet, airy whisper. "Back when we faced down that curse, you got hurt really bad. I ran to save you, but then I couldn't feel this."
He pressed his hand a little further into Tommy's chest. The latter gasped inwardly. So, he was dead and gone for a moment? Was that what really happened?
He was surprised his heart didn't stop for a second from all the weight coming down on him. The denial, anguish, and despair that Tubbo must have felt was beyond imagining.
"Even then, I refused to think you were done for. And I clung to it so fiercely Jeb thought I had gone mad. He even asked why you meant so much to me."
Tommy felt the tremors running up and down Tubbo's body as he went on.
"And I thought about it," Tubbo said, his breathing turning harsh and his voice growing heavier. "And to be honest, I'm still not sure why. I only have the same answer I gave him."
He laughed only for it to break into a sob. "I mean, first off, you were the only friendly British kid I could find for miles, a bit of home from far away. Couldn't have helped it if I could. And second, the only time I've ever felt bigger and braver than I really am was with you. And ever since I lost Mum and Dad, it was the world to me."
He buried his face into Tommy's shirt. "So when I heard that you wanted to leave for good, I couldn't stand it! It felt like everything was turning wrong again. I know it sounds stupid and selfish, but you can't go yet. We still have that promise, remember? It doesn't matter how silly it was or how different things turned out to be. I lost my parents, and then Niki, and then I thought I almost lost Jeb. I can't lose you, too! Please, Tommy, don't leave me!"
Tubbo wept on Tommy's chest. And Tommy...
Tommy became everything. He had no words for it, just the feeling that he was everything, everywhere, all at once. The autumn breeze, the sighing pines and birches and oaks surrounding the hill, the stoic towers and the forlorn satellites sitting beside them down to the last atom of steel, the lively birds coming out for their evening meal, the vapor rising to join the panoply of clouds in the firmament above. He was the earth itself, the soil pushing up every single blade of grass greeting their eyes wherever they looked. He was the homes and the buildings and the long, winding roads. But he was also the clothes they were wearing, the cotton, denim, and leather, each bead of sweat drying up on their skin, the very breath they inhaled and exhaled, the drum beating the hot blood through their bodies.
He was everything and he was nothing. But above all, he was Tommy.
He grabbed Tubbo's hand still planted on his sternum and squeezed it as they curled into an embrace. "Never," he whispered, his tears running anew in grief and gratitude. "I'll never leave. I'll keep our word, Tubbo. Until that time comes, I'll always be with you."
There, atop the tallest pine on the hill, overlooking the stillness of Rapid City, they felt like the biggest men in the world.
Then the sun blinked its last, and the world turned to shadow, and they became small again. But that was alright. They were here, and so were their friends, and that was all he needed.
"Yeah," he whispered to himself. "All I need."
"Are they close?"
"Shut the f*ck up."
Wilbur rolled his eyes. The diner was extremely close to being turned upside down when Jeb realized Tubbo had disappeared along with Tommy. Phil, who dropped by for a moment, quickly snapped Jeb out of his panic and got him to search through his options, upon which he remembered that he had Tubbo's phone tracked on an app. Wilbur visibly leered at that revelation—a poor choice, as Phil caught him, handed him a flashlight, and convinced ("Ahem, coerced.") him to accompany the poor guy in retrieving the boys.
Finding them should be easy; according to the app's findings, Tubbo had gone further down the hill's slope, sitting somewhere by the old cell towers. No need for a drive to catch them in some hole and take them back through hell and high water.
Still, it went just as well as they hoped.
"So. The tracker thing. Is that in parental controls or something?"
"Shut the f*ck up," Jeb huffed, plodding into the gloom like a troll. Wilbur clicked his tongue and twirled the flashlight about in his hand. The sun sank half an hour ago. None of them asked for a light yet, and he was not about to offer it. There were, after all, many opportunities to see Jeb trip on a stair and roll to a heap as they made up where he last saw Tubbo.
"Just a question," he hummed in reply.
"If ya got more, just go back and leave me be."
"Can't. Tommy's gone, too. And they're probably together. At least, that's what we hope," Wilbur explained.
"And if I had it my way, Tubbo would've stuck by me instead of him!" Jeb seethed, pumping his arms in rage.
Wilbur raised a brow. "But that's never been the case since the start, right?"
He watched Jeb pause in his tracks, spasm violently while sputtering half-words, and then jog down the stairs with a look between shame and spite: a dangerous combo on one Jebediah Schlatt VI. Yet Wilbur merely sighed as Jeb fumed right in his face, dutifully telling him that he would have turned him into a bagel if he didn't respect the old man.
Thankfully, it did not take too long. Once the first cell tower came in sight, Jeb perked up over his phone and ran across the field, hollering for Tubbo. Wilbur slowly tailed him. He didn't believe Tommy would abandon his best friend after taking him far away from the camp. Not this time.
He later found Jeb trying to climb a pine tree, cussing repeatedly as his hands slipped from the bark. He squinted at the canopy, wondering if the boys were actually there.
"Is this it?" Wilbur asked.
Jeb, who managed to cling to the trunk and climb six feet off the ground, craned his neck toward him. "Whaddya think, genius? Hey, shine me a light. I can't see up ahead."
Wilbur replied by turning it on while it pointed right at Jeb's mug. The latter yelped, lost his grip, and tumbled back to the ground.
Suddenly, a voice came down from beyond the canopy. "No need for that!" cried Tommy. "We're coming down."
"Give us a minute!" chimed Tubbo right after.
Wilbur and Jeb looked at each other, then back up. They held their breaths as the dark branches above creaked and rustled.
Then, out came Tommy into view. He leaped on the lowest branch over them and swung his arms to steady himself. After that, he flash-stepped to the ground with a grunt.
"All clear!" he shouted, holding out his arms. A quick series of noises followed, and then Tubbo appeared, bowling into Tommy and nearly toppling him over. The two laughed as they both found their footing.
Wilbur and Jeb were confused. Relieved, but confused. Nonetheless, they walked up to the boys, the latter faster than the other.
"Tubbo!" Jeb cried, crouching down and patting the boy from head to toe. "What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing. We were playing," Tubbo answered nonchalantly.
Jeb's face wrung. "All the way here? I told you to stay where I could see you!"
"But nothing happened, though," Tubbo replied, lowering his head bashfully.
"Yeah, nothing happened," Tommy repeated, backing him up. "You should've seen us, though," he went on, addressing a weary, unimpressed Wilbur. "We ran around that cell tower and even jumped all over it. On the trees, too. It was cool."
"Wicked. And pog!"
"Yeah, pog!"
"That's great and all. But that doesn't change the fact that you risked yourselves out here," Wilbur droned. He put on a disappointed face, but he didn't truly feel that way. His focus was on the way Tommy was holding himself. He looked completely at ease, jiving with Tubbo as if all their trouble never existed.
"We can handle ourselves!" Tommy cried defensively, demonstrating Wilbur's point. "We're teenagers, not toddlers."
"Big men," Tubbo affirmed with a nod.
"Brill men."
"Sure," Wilbur replied bemusedly. "Well, whatever story you have, you better save it for Phil. Now, come along, you two."
"Right," Tubbo said. Then, he turned to his uncle, who stared at him like he was speaking Greek. "Is dinner ready?"
It took a while for Jeb to come out of his stupor. He scratched his head and replied, "Well, they got a microwave going and some Hot Pockets."
"Sweet!"
Tubbo threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around an even more bewildered Jeb. "Thank you for looking out for us," he whispered.
Despite his confusion, Jeb couldn't deny his relief and gratitude. And so, he, too, wrapped his arms around Tubbo, warmth shining on his face.
Wilbur observed the way Jeb's expression melted once he had his nephew in his arms. It stirred something in him.
But then, Tommy tapped him on the bicep and pointed at the flashlight. "You still need that?" he asked.
"Um..."
Wilbur twisted it around then handed it to the boy's eager palm. "Nice!" Tommy crowed. Then, he gestured at Tubbo, prompting another race as he took off and the other followed.
"Catch you guys later!" Tommy shouted back at them, before erupting in jeers and laughter as Tubbo bumped into him several times, trying to snatch the lit flashlight in his hands. The boom shot around in the gloom, accompanying their hoots and hollers as they disappeared the way they came.
Wilbur and Jeb watched them do so, unable to parse what was going on.
"They've made up," Jeb observed aloud, his voice quiet over the buzz of the insects in the evening.
"Yeah," Wilbur replied, a strange wistfulness taking him. He continued to stand still with his thoughts whirling in his head, failing to notice that Jeb had straightened beside him.
When he did, the guy was shooting him a smolder.
"What?" Wilbur went, cringing away.
Jeb co*cked his eyebrows and said, "Sorry about that."
"That?"
He jerked his head in the direction of the kid's park. "That."
Wilbur scrunched his nose and shrugged. "That's nothing."
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"We should do it, too."
"..."
"..."
"No."
"C'moooon!" Jeb replied, knocking his elbow into Wilbur's. The latter twitched away as if it was diseased. "We gotta catch up to the kids."
"I'd rather asphyxiate," Wilbur hummed as he began walking away.
"Not even for Niki's sake?"
"Don't start with that!"
"Hey, hey, sorry."
"..."
"..."
"Give it tomorrow?"
"Oh, brother."
